Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a deep, rumbling voice that made Hermione look up from her work. It was eerily familiar. One that she had heard dozens of times before. She had heard it droning on and on, accompanied by the sound of knives cutting, liquids bubbling, and damp air, filled with the strong herbal smell of potions ingredients- Hermione froze when her searching eyes found the only person who that voice could truly belong to. It was unmistakably him. Severus Snape.

Hermione stared at him like she’d seen a ghost. And for all intents and purposes, he should be one. But how could he possibly- everybody had presumed him dead. ' 'But they’d never found a body,' Hermione realised with a start. She suddenly recalled Harry mentioning it to her once.

Her, Harry, and Ron had been sharing stories in Grimmauld Place’s drawing room. At one point, there had been a lull in the conversation. Hermione had been sunk in thought, mindlessly swirling around the last of her Merlot. She felt her eyelids start drooping and surreptitiously checked her watch. Past midnight. She should be heading home soon-

“They never found his body, you know?” Harry suddenly blurted out.

Hermione and Ron looked up in confusion, giving Harry confused and questioning looks.

“Snape,” Harry elaborated, “they never found his body.”

“He was as good as dead when we left him,” Ron reasoned. “Nagini’s attack was brutal, we all saw what happened. She didn’t relent.” He paled slightly as he recalled the memory. “Looked pretty lethal to me.”

“Snakes like Nagini have venom that contains anti-coagulants. Even if the high dose of venom didn’t kill him, blood loss would. I don’t believe there’s anything he could’ve done to save himself,” Hermione added soberly.

Silence descended on the room again as everybody processed that information. Hermione’s eyes were involuntarily drawn back to her wineglass. She stared at its scarlet contents. She suddenly felt her stomach churn and hastily put the wineglass down. She wiped her sweaty and slightly shaking hands on her trousers.

It was once again Harry that broke the silence, “I guess you’re right. I just can’t quite believe he’s truly gone, you know?”

Hermione and Ron both nodded in understanding. Hermione reached over and patted Harry's hand comfortingly.

“His life was tragic. Despite his many wrongdoings and flaws, I think we can all agree that he deserved better. A second chance, without people constantly questioning where his loyalties lie. Without needing to prove himself over and over again.” Hermione drew in a shuddering breath in an attempt to stop her hands from shaking.

Harry hummed his agreement. Ron didn’t say anything, his inner turmoil clearly written across his face.

Hermione remembered heading off soon after that, as the evening’s sombre turn of conversation could not be salvaged by broaching less heavy topics.

She mentally shoved the memory aside, opting to pay attention to what was happening at present instead. The current Snape was alive and well and talking to her boss: Maureen Harding. He was wearing dark trousers, leather boots, and surprisingly - a navy blue blouse, whose sleeves he had rolled up to combat the desert heat. His posture was as rigid as Hermione remembered, shoulders drawn back and pale hands clutched behind his back. For once, he wasn't wearing his hair down. Instead, he had tied it back and out of his face. She thought he looked better that way, for once not hiding behind his previously greasy locks. Hermione noticed he looked healthier, too. This was most likely due to his slight tan that was visible on his exposed forearms and his more relaxed facial features. Overall, it seemed to Hermione that - now that the war had ended - Snape was taking better care of himself.

The more time she spent observing, the more an insatiable curiosity took hold of her. She tried acting inconspicuous, seemingly engrossed in her task of measuring a shard of ancient pottery. In all actuality, she desperately tried to catch snippets of the conversation that was being held just out of hearing range. She started somewhat leaning forward-

“Miss Granger.”

Hermione jumped up, and in her surprise, almost dropped the piece of pottery she pretended to be cataloguing. She forced herself to meet Snape’s black eyes. He was looking down his nose at her. His hands still firmly clutched behind his back. His steadfast gaze did not waver.

“Professor Snape!” she blurted out. To her own annoyance, her voice came out loud and shrill-sounding. She hastily scooted her chair back and jumped up. “What are you doing here?”

“As you’re probably well aware,” he drawled, “there’s no need to call me Professor, as I haven’t taught at Hogwarts for many years. I am here in my capacity as a Curse-Breaker. Your superior mentioned you were in ‘desperate need’ of my services.”

“Curse-Breaker? Surely-”

But Snape immediately cut her off, “Mrs. Harding made your disdain for Gringotts’ Curse-Breakers quite clear.” He lifted his lip in disgust as he spoke the word ‘Gringotts’. “An opinion we seem to share.” A short pause. “Wholeheartedly,” he enunciated every syllable, spitting out each one as if they had personably offended him. "I can assure you, I would never allow myself to be associated with them."

Hermione couldn’t suppress her surprise. “So you’re only here to dismantle curses?”

Snape looked insulted at Hermione’s implied accusation. “I can assure you I am only here to carry out the job I was hired to do. I am aware of your low opinion of me, but I must admit that even I am taken aback by your baseless accusations.” He sneered, his nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“I'm not accusing you of anything!” Hermione hastily replied. She knew that was a lie and Snape did too, as indicated by his unchanged insulted expression. “It’s nothing personal, I swear! It’s just that I’ve had such bad previous experiences with Curse-Breakers - it makes me assume the worst. My apologies." She had almost added ‘Professor’ to the end of that sentence, but managed to swallow the word just in time.

Snape’s eyes narrowed and his gaze turned scrutinising as he took in Hermione’s earnest expression, flushed appearance, and slightly trembling hands, which she was now nervously using to smooth down her frizzed plait. Apparently he decided upon giving her the benefit of the doubt, or perhaps he just wanted to drop the subject, “please enlighten me in which capacity you require my assistance.”

So Hermione did.

As they were about to leave, Hermione was pulled aside by Maureen. Before speaking, she glanced over Hermione's shoulder to make sure they were out of Snape's earshot, "now Hermione, I know that we've discussed this at length already-" She took a steeling breath before she continued on, "everything points to Mr. Snape being the real deal. But if you keep letting your distrust guide you, you will end up driving him away, too." She pinned Hermione with her gaze, making sure she was receiving the message. "The Association is in desperate need of an honest, independently operating Curse-Breaker. As you're well aware by now, they are in low supply and high demand. I know our collaboration with the Gringotts Curse-Breakers wasn't ideal-"

"Wasn't ideal?" Hermione broke in. "They were common thieves! Stealing the ancient artefacts we'd painstakingly uncovered right from under our noses and selling them to the highest bidder!" she bristled.

"I know, Hermione. As I've told you before, I fully agree with you on the ethics of the matter. Be that as it may, we were dependent on them too. I know you're well aware that, because of your reckless behaviour, we haven't been able to practice proper wizarding-" Maureen said the word 'wizarding' under her breath, due to their close proximity to Muggle colleagues, "-archaeology for months."

Hermione had the decency to feel remorse then, although one burning question still needed answering, "if you don't trust me yet, then why allow me to work with him at all?"

The 64-year-old witch suddenly looked older, and tired. Her expression softened slightly. "Because from what I've heard, you and Mr. Snape have a history. Is that right?"

Hermione nodded hesitantly. "That's one way of putting it."

"I've also heard he can be a difficult wizard to work with. Maybe it's just a hunch, maybe it's from gained life experience, or perhaps just sheer foolishness- but my gut says you're the right person to work with him." She squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "Don't let me down." She turned to leave but halted, "Tarek can provide you with more information on the site's location. Oh, and Mr. Snape already took the Vow," Maureen said over her shoulder, before disappearing around a corner.

Left unsatisfied with Maureen's answer, but unable to do much about it, Hermione stomped back to where Snape was standing. "I'm ready to leave if you are," she told him flatly.

"Trouble in paradise?" Snape sneered. He continued before Hermione could answer, "pity I find myself feeling wholly uninterested." His bored look matching his cutting words. He nonchalantly flicked a grain of sand off of his shoulder. "Shall we?" he asked, before immediately heading off and leaving a stunned Hermione behind.

She felt herself start to seethe and was about to call after him, but bit her tongue at the last second as Maureen's words replayed in her head, "play nice Hermione, this is your dream job," she muttered to herself as she hastily started following Snape. His long strides forced her to jog in order to catch up with him. "It's this way," she said as soon as she reached him, slightly panting and gesturing towards the direction where she knew a big tent had been erected. "We're going to have to go around the temple, though."

Snape nodded. They made their way over there in silence, which allowed Hermione to mull over Maureen's words. Hermione had always been told that the Gringotts Curse-Breakers broke curses on enchanted "treasure" and brought it back to the bank. Back at Hogwarts, she hadn't really given much thought to what these treasures would entail. In hindsight, Hermione should've known better. She'd only discovered the true issues that arose from the collaboration between the North-African Archaeological Wizarding Society (NAWS for short) and Gringotts however, once she had started her work as an archaeologist and Egyptologist. As it turned out, in exchange for the Gringotts Curse-Breakers services, the NAWS's Wizarding Archaeologist were forced to hand over the most valuable of the artefacts they uncovered during their excevations. Hermione had been shocked into speechlessness when she first discovered this.

Bill Weasley - of all people - had volunteered to help Hermione break the curses on her first solo unearthing of an ancient Egyptian wizard's tomb. She had just finished owling Maureen the good news and was fleeing back inside to avoid the scorching desert sun, when she was met with flashes. She found Bill taking pictures of the inside of the sarcophagus.

"Documenting, I see?" Hermione asked him with a friendly smile as she joined. She withdrew a notepad from her pocket to start her translations of the hieroglyphs that covered the walls.

He hummed non-noncommittally, put the camera away, and exchanged it for his wand. He magically lifted a several amulets out of the sarcophagus and to Hermione's complete bewilderment, started stuffing them into his bag.

She grabbed hold of his wrist on impulse, forcing him to lower his wand and look at her curiously. "What the hell are you doing?!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with panic. "Artefacts of this age may only be handled by trained professionals!" She futily tried to pull the bag from his iron hold. "You're damaging them!" she added as Bill wrenched his wrist free from her grasp. To her utter dismay, he simply ignored her protests in favour of continuing with what he was doing.

"Keep your cool Hermione, we've always done it like this. It's fine. Besides, this bag contains plenty of protective charms."

"But that's not the point-"

He glanced her way and carefully flung the bag over his shoulder when he noticed her intense look of distress. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. His scarred face was slightly flushed. A look of resignation flickered across it. "Hermione, where else do you think Gringotts Curse-Breakers collect treasure?"

Hermione felt speechless, her words stuck in her throat. She tried to take a step back, but Bill held firm.

"Hermione, listen! I'm only taking the most valuable items, we tend to leave the artefacts with true archaeological value behind for you guys. We've done it like this forever!"

"No…" To Bill's clear shock, Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at him. "Hand over the bag." Her voice sounded threatening. Low and steady. It booked no room for argument.

"Hermione, please. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

Hermione didn't relent. She took a step closer and pressed her wand tip to Bill's chest. "Hand. Over. The. Bag. Now," she said slowly. Magic started crackling in the air.

"Fine!" He tugged the bag from his shoulder and shoved it into her arms. "But I'm warning you, tension between Gringotts and NAWS have been rising. The Goblins won't like this. You will lose your job." His footsteps echoed around the tomb as he exited.

The seething Hermione hadn't noticed Bill looking over his shoulder one last time. He seemed to hesitate, but then closed his eyes in resignation, and turned back around with hunched shoulders.

The loud bang of his Disapparition announced his departure, startling Hermione out of her rage and making her become aware of the sheer gravity of her impulsive reaction.

Apparently that hadn't been the first time members of the NAWS had provoked Gringotts' Curse-Breakers. Unluckily for Hermione however, this particular altercation had turned out to be the straw that broke the camel's back. After receiving Bill's report, the Gringotts goblins had reportedly been livid. They ended up altogether cancelling their collaboration with the NAWS. The Association had been very close to laying Hermione off because of this. Only the fact that she hadn't been informed about the nature of their collaboration with Gringotts and the fact that she hadn't been the first incensed Wizarding Archaeologist who had taken a stand against the bank's workers had saved her skin. Hermione also had a sneaking suspicion that her status as war heroine had something to do with the NAWS's meriful decision. After all, she could have easily contacted the media about their highly controversial arrangement.

They had a hard time finding replacements, though. Almost all Curse-Breakers went on to work for banks with similar motives to Gringotts or practised the career purely for their own gain. Curse-Breaking was a dangerous job - high risk, high reward. In comparison, the salary that the NAWS paid their employees was merely average. That's why there were few Curse-Breakers interested enoug to work with them.

Ever since these events had taken place, Hermione hadn't enjoyed her job as much as back when she had first started. She had become disillusioned, even bitter at times. She had also been allocated to the Muggle dig site for the time being, spending her days translating pictures of hieroglyphs and documenting, measuring, photographing, and archiving artefacts. It was fine, but her real passion and interest lay with discovering more about the wizards and witches that had inhabited ancient Egypt.

'No,' Hermione silently vowed, as she and Snape finally approached the tent. She would not mess this up again. She glanced at Snape from the corner of her eye. If she knew one thing for sure, it was that the wizard beside her held onto strong ethical beliefs. Besides, he seemed genuine in their shared hatred for those vile Gringotts Curse-Breakers. She would give him the benefit of the doubt. For archaeology's sake, as well as her own.

Hermione pushed the tent flap aside and stepped inside. Her skin tingling as she passed the strong Muggle-repelling charm, which was followed by the blessed cold of the ever-present cooling charms hitting her in the face. She spotted Tarik right away. He was sat behind one of the many tables that were scattered around the tent and was feverishly scribbling on a piece of paper.

"Hi Tarik," Hermione greeted her colleague. She watched as his head shot up, his dark curls falling into his eyes with the sudden movement. He smiled brightly when he spotted Hermione approaching.

"Hermione!" he greeted back enthusiastically.

She watched him put down his lime green quill - Tarik was in the habit of writing with Fwooper quills. He had once told Hermione that he loved their bright colours, so she had gifted him a rare bright blue variety this past Christmas. He had been over the moon when he had unwrapped it and had spontaneously tackled her into a hug. Now that she thought about it, Hermione had never seen Tarik be in any less than a cheery mood. Hermione noticed he had accidentally smudged ink on his nose and couldn't help but return his smile.

"So Maureen finally allowed you to head back into the field?" he asked, while he stood up and stuck his hand out for Snape to shake. "And you must be the new Curse-Breaker everybody's been talking about," he addressed Snape cordially.

Snape shook his hand stiffly. "I am. Severus Snape," he said, before quickly letting go of Tarik's hand again.

If Tarik recognised his name, he didn't let it show. "Tarik Hamidi," he introduced himself back. "I started working here right around the time Hermione did." His smile didn't waver as he turned his attention back to Hermione. "Maureen sent ahead a memo to let me know that you were on your way." He grabbed the manilla folder he had apparently pulled out ahead of time and handed it to Hermione. "Here you go."

"Thanks," Hermione said, offering him a smile back. She eagerly opened the folder and perused its contents. A map with coordinates, parchment scribbled with detailed measurements of the magic levels, photographs of the site, a small vial of sand - the usual. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Snape curiously glancing at the folder's contents too. She closed the folder with a snap. "Right! Off we go," she said jovially, and marched down to the magically silenced part of the tent which they always used for Apparition. Hermione nodded smilingly at some colleagues that she passed along the way, while secretly gaining some satisfaction from the fact that this time around, Snape had been forced to follow her.

"Good luck!" she heard Tarik call after them.

Hermione stuck up the hand that was still holding the folder in acknowledgement. She halted as soon as she stepped over the chalked off square in a deserted corner of the large tent. She had just pulled out her wand when Snape reached her. Hermione offered him her right arm.

He didn't move, his face filled with disdain as he frowned down at the proffered limb.

"Apparating to a new location with only limited information to go off of takes some practice. I propose you Side-Along with me until you get the hang of it," Hermione explained impatiently. She shook her arm in an indication for him to take it.

Snape's reluctance was clear, but he finally did as instructed. His long fingers wrapped around her forearm. His grip was tight, the digits digging into her skin painfully. Hermione tried to ignore the sensation as she checked her map one last time. She mentally combined the photographs and map, trying to conjure up a vivid image. As if to tell her brain that, 'yes, I've been here before.' "Hold on tight," was the only warning she gave him before Apparating them both to the new location.

He let go of her as soon as they landed, causing Hermione to stagger while she tried to find her footing in the loose desert sand. Ignoring the slight irritation that she felt well up, Hermione righted her clothes, put her bag down, and immediately started casting protective enchantments around them with practised ease. With displeasure, she realised it was her task to instruct Snape on the NAWS's procedures that were in place when visiting a new site. She finished by transfiguring a handful of sand into a small marquee tent above their heads and gentle lowering it onto the ground. While she was making sure it was anchored correctly, she began listing the spells they always used and explained why protection from the elements was one of their first priorities.

Snape held himself stiffly while he listened. His dark eyes - which were trained on hers - were the only indication that he was paying any attention to her. When Hermione was finished with her explanation he only gave her a curt nod.

It made her feel unsettled, Hermione realised; this new dynamic between them. Their roles had reversed, and it felt foreign to her. Not to mention the history they shared. She had borne witness to what should have been his last moments. The stiff set of Snape's shoulders and his slightly uncomfortable expression made her suspect he felt similarly. Hermione found herself actually preferring their sniping at each other to the awkward silence that had now descended upon them. She cleared her throat. "Right," she said, turning her attention back to the manilla folder. "The next step is ascertaining that we've actually Apparated to the right spot." She took out the photographs and map and showed them to him, stepping closer when she saw him crane his neck at an uncomfortable angle. She pointed at the map. "According to this, we're located relatively closely to the Siwa Oasis." She put the first photograph on top and gestured towards the still image. "We rarely develop these pictures in developing solution. We found that the pictures actually come out less accurate, because the magic in the potion sometimes embellishes on what is already there - to make the photograph more compelling to look at." Hermione shrugged. "Most of the time, deserts just aren't that interesting. Muggle photographs will do."

Hermione went on to demonstrate how she compared sand colour, looked for corresponding landmarks, and how she used her knowledge of Egyptian geography to ascertain if the terrain type matched. She let the sand she'd been showing Snape slip through her fingers as got back up out of her kneeling position. "Based on the observations I've just shared with you and the information our colleagues have provided us with, I think it's safe to say that we Apparated to the right place," Hermione said while she rubbed her hands together to get all the grains of sand off. "Do you agree?" She asked casually, not showing the slight relief she felt at Apparating to the correct location the first time around.

Snape nodded his agreement.

Hermione felt herself perk up. "Right! Now all that's left is tracing the exact location of this archaeological site. Maureen mentioned you've made the Unbreakable Vow already?"

"I have," was all he said.

Hermione glanced at him to gauge his mood. Snape was shielding his eyes against the bright sunlight while scanning their surroundings. He didn't look as irritated as he had seemed ever since their forced reunion. Rather, she would describe his facial expression as a thoughtful, mildly interested one. Hermione grinned to herself. Apparently, she had been able to pique his interest. She bent down and rummaged through the bag she had brought with her. "Ah, here it is," she murmured after a moment. Hermione pulled out the 'Heka Meter' triumphantly and held it up for Snape to observe.

He quirked his eyebrow. "They made me take an Unbreakable Vow so you could show me a battered old Game Boy?" he asked drily. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not in the mood for playing Tetris."

Hermione stared at Snape. His facial expression didn't give anything away. Had the taciturn man just cracked a joke? She blinked twice, not quite sure how to react. She averted her eyes, choosing to settle her gaze on modified Game Boy instead. In the end, she decided to answer Snape seriously, "all jokes aside, your observation is accurate. While yes, this used to be a handheld gaming device, you can no longer play Tetris on it - or any other games for that matter. We call this the Heka Meter. It was magically modified years ago to detect levels of magic - the ancient Egyptian's called it heka." According to ancient Egyptians, every living being possessed heka. The standing theory was that only wizards and witches were in possession of enough heka to wield it though. As it turned out, the ancient Egyptians were highly aware of this fact, which was why witches and wizards were held in high esteem back then. They believed that only the Gods were more powerful beings.

"I know what heka is-" Snape interrupted her musings, "-and Heka Meter is a ridiculous name," he added, distaste clear in his voice.

"It is," Hermione admitted. She allowed herself to smile this time. "Be that as it may, it is dead useful, too." She tapped her wand on the Game Boy's discoloured plastic shell. "Ludere," she said aloud for Snape's benefit. Hermione beckoned him closer as the device sprang to life.

Snape obliged.

Their shoulders brushed. She fiddled with the contrast wheel, while cursive hieroglyphs and numbers started appearing on the screen. When she inquired, Snape told her he knew some hieroglyphs, most of them of the magical kind. Hermione patiently explained the meaning of the hieroglyphs he didn't recognise and the meaning of the values that were assigned to them.

Once she was finished explaining, she handed the Heka Meter to a mildly surprised Snape. "Think you're up to the challenge?" she asked him, offering him a genuine smile of encouragement. Hermione loved the thrill of visiting an undiscovered archaeological site. This, combined with the satisfaction that she gained from teaching, had put her in a good mood. Even Snape's acerbic attitude could no longer put a damper on it.

The latter was looking at her with suspicion in his eyes.

Hermione ignored him, in favour of conjuring a comfortable chair and sitting down with a content sigh. She crossed her legs. "Well?" she asked when he didn't move. "I'm right here if you have any more questions."

He scowled at her, then frowned down at the device in his hand. Determination crossed his features. "Fine," he muttered, before heading out into the desert plains.

Hermione watched on as he started searching, halting every once in a while to read whatever the Heka Meter was displaying. Seeing her colleagues use the Meter always reminded Hermione of that time she had looked out of her parents' car's window, and had spotted a diviner walking around a field. The woman had been equipped with a divining rod, which was seemingly pulling her into different directions. Hermione knew that she also looked a little like that whenever she used the Heka Meter. 'It is a small price to pay, though,' she thought, while she pulled a thermos from her bag and took a sip from it. Wizarding archaeology was much too fascinating for her to care about what she looked like while practising it. Hermione conjured a small table and set the thermos down, before rummaging around her bag and pulling out a biro and the scientific paper she had brought with her. She settled in for the long haul. The first time she had used the Heka Meter, it had taken her over two hours to locate their next dig site. She remembered feeling overheated, annoyed by her frizzed hair, and her cheeks and nose glowing hot from sunburn when she had finally waved Maureen over for inspection. Hermione had actually cheered out loud when it turned out she had been spot on.

Imagine Hermione's surprise when only thirty minutes later, she suddenly became aware by Snape's close presence. She looked up and found him looming over her little table. She took in the man that stood before her. Snape looked cool and collected, not a hair out of place.

"I've located the site," he told her impassively, before turning on his heel and walking back to the spot he had marked with a small, floating orb of light.

Feeling sceptical, Hermione reluctantly put her paper down, and slowly made her way over to where Snape was now waiting for her with crossed arms. She asked him for the Heka Meter and he deposited it into her waiting hand. Hermione stared as the screen indicated heightened heka levels, as well as increased wielded heka and carbon-14 readings. She checked thrice, and felt her eyebrows slowly creep up as she realised that Snape had taken thirty bloody minutes to accomplish a task that should have taken him hours to complete. She tried to school her features while her back was still turned to him, but found it to be a useless endeavour. Astonished, she whirled around and was met with Snape's smug expression. "How?" she spluttered.

Snape smirked at her in a self-satisfied manner and shrugged. "Beginner's luck?" he purred.

She shook her head. "Impossible, this should've taken you hours."

Snape played with his wand nonchalantly. "You see, Granger, not everybody is as incompetent as the people you chose to surround yourself with at Hogwarts."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, knowing exactly what 'people' Severus was referring to. Unimaginative git. "Keep Harry out of this," she told him in a low tone of voice. A surge of protectiveness swept through her when she spoke her best friend's name.

Snape stepped closer. "Or what?" he asked.

Hermione looked up into his dark eyes, which were silently challenging her. She felt her wand-hand twitch, desperate to take action. Hermione resisted the urge however, opting to avert her eyes to the horizon behind Snape instead. She took a deep breath in, held it, then slowly let it escape through her nostrils. She knew she had to pick her battles when it came to a difficult person like Snape and she wasn't going to blow this opportunity either. She simply stepped around him instead, choosing to focus on the potential archaeological site before them. She felt his eyes burn holes into the back of her head, but she simply chose to ignore him. Hermione did brandish her wand then, but instead of granting her own wish (using it to hex Snape), she only utilized it to start excavation.

Most likely reluctantly, Snape eventually came over to stand beside her and observe what she was doing. This time around, Hermione ignored him, and refused to offer an explanation. He would just have to figure things out through careful observation.

To start off, Hermione transfigured some sand into another small marquee tent to further shield them from the elements. Next, she started carefully clearing away sand, using freezing charms to stop the sand from falling back into the hole she was creating. She frequently consulted the Heka Meter to check if she was on the right path.

It took about an hour of careful siphoning for Hermione to finally encounter worn stone. "There!" She said excitedly, in spite of the brooding wizard beside her. She beckoned Snape to come closer, which he did. Despite his sour mood, he still looked slightly curious. "This is the point where a Curse-Breaker typically gets called in," Hermione explained. "As you know, all ancient Egyptian wizards typically placed protective spells and curses on their tombs. Mostly to ward off grave robbers. The magic is often woven within its structure, so even so much as touching this stone can be dangerous."

Hermione stood up and gestured for Snape to take her place. "Your turn," she said, while she summoned her comfy chair and supplies. After she sat down, she watched on as Snape started examining the ancient magic. Hermione pulled out her paper again. Regrettably, she couldn't leave. She needed to stay around in case something went wrong and Snape would require her for back-up.

She was about half-way through her second paper, when Snape approached her again.

"It's done," he announced.

Hermione put her paper down. "Great. How did it go?" she asked neutrally.

"Fine," was his only response.

If Hermione's senses weren't betraying her, some of the tension that existed between them had let up. To test this theory, she decided to hand Snape a cup of water; called it a small peace-offering if she would. He accepted it with only a slight hesitation, which Hermione considered to be a minor success. It seemed that just like her, Snape was enjoying the work they were doing, which had in turn improved his mood. She watched him gulp the contents down before handing the empty cup back to her. She checked her watch while she packed it away. Unsurprisingly, he had broken the ancient curses in record time. As Hermione rose, she had to begrudgingly admit to herself that Snape would be an outstanding addition to their team. "Right, let's unearth the remainder of this structure."

It only took Hermione about two more hours to uncover the entrance of what turned out to be a small tomb. By that time, the sun had already started setting. Hermione stretched her stiff muscles while she took in the magnificent purple and orange colours that seemed to have been painted across the sky with heavy brushstrokes. Coupled with the burnt orange hue that the desert sand had taken on, the view could only be described as breathtaking.

Hermione was startled by the low timbre of Snape's voice that rose up from behind her.

"Shall we continue before we lose all daylight?"

Hermione nodded distractedly and turned to face him. She noticed that the sunset's orange glow had softened out his features. It made him look younger, more approachable. She glanced away. "Very well," she finally said. "Have you succeeded in removing all of the curses on the entrance too?"

"Naturally," he drawled.

Without further ado, Hermione approached the ancient, magically preserved wooden door. She discreetly cast a few detection spells, but as it turned out, Snape had been true to his word. The door creakily swung open with a simple Alohomora. Trembling in anticipation, Hermione lit her wand and was about to step in, when she felt a hand land on her shoulder.

"I think it would be prudent if I entered first," Snape said.

Now that Hermione thought about it, it did make more sense for the Curse-Breaker to head in before the archaeologist did. 'Then why had Bill been happy for her to lead to way?' With a slight shake of her head, Hermione stepped back and watched on as Snape entered the small space with his wand stuck out in front of him.

It was silent for a couple of minutes, before he called out to Hermione that it was safe for her to come in.

As she entered, the first thing Hermione noticed was Snape's crouched form due to the low ceiling. His face was lit up by his wand, which he seemed to be clutching tightly. He looked troubled and somewhat distraught. Before Hermione could think about what she was doing, she took a step forward. "What's wrong?"

He grimaced. "See for yourself," he said, while gesturing towards the coffin that was placed in the middle of the tomb.

Hermione shone her light onto it and immediately understood Snape's reaction.

The size.

It was unmistakably a child's coffin.

Hermione felt the air rush out of her lungs. She had to blink several times. The child couldn't have been older than five when it had passed. Her mind immediately went to - no, she couldn't be thinking about that right now. "Oh," was the only thing she managed to bring out.

"Indeed," was all Snape said.

Hermione was suddenly reminded of an ancient Egyptian's speech she had read in a paper a couple of weeks ago. Without thinking, its words started spilling from her lips, "who hears my speech, his heart will grieve for it," she started reciting softly. Snape turned towards her and looked surprised, but didn't interrupt. She went on, her photographic memory kicking in, "for I am a small child snatched by force." She swallowed with some difficulty. "Abridged in years as an innocent one. Snatched quickly as a little one. Like a man carried off by sleep." Hermione stopped her spontaneous recital as she felt tears well and her throat get constricted by the sudden sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her.

A loaded silence filled the cramped space. Hermione's words echoing in both their minds. She felt Snape's heavy gaze rest on her, but she avoided his eyes on purpose.

"Can we continue this tomorrow?" she finally asked. She met his eyes and slightly shrunk into herself when they bore into hers.

His expression was hard to read. He only gave a short nod in answer, allowing Hermione to flee the eerie atmosphere of the long lost child's tomb.

Without saying goodbye, Hermione Apparated straight to her room at Cairo's wizarding quarters. She threw herself onto the bed and finally gave herself permission to let her thoughts, as well as her tears flow freely.

Chapter Text

Once Hermione had managed to calm herself down sufficiently, she headed to the shared kitchen to warm up a tin of mushroom soup. Back in her room with a bowl in hand, she kicked the door closed behind her and wandlessly cleared a small space on her cluttered desk before sitting down. The day replayed in her mind while she spooned the creamy soup into her mouth and stared unseeingly at the blank stretch of wall opposite.

Now that Hermione had gotten over her initial shock at Snape's unlikely survival, she realised that he had been behaving like a right prick throughout most of the day. Hermione was of the opinion that she, at least, had tried remaining civil most of the time. Snape, however, had mostly acted short with her. Frankly, she found his behaviour childish. He knew they'd be forced to work together for the foreseeable future, so why not bury the hatchet and at least try be civil to her? Was Hermione - after all these years, after everything they'd been through, and the complete change of setting and dynamics - still only Harry Potter's annoying little friend in Snape's eyes?

Spoon still dangling from her mouth, Hermione summoned her mobile phone from her bag on impulse. She flipped it open and finished the last of her meal while she selected Harry's number. Because Floo-calling from Egypt to Britain was impossible, it had been Harry's idea for them both to purchase mobile phones.

"Hiya, 'Mione. Everything alright?" Harry greeted her when he picked up the phone after the seventh ring. He sounded worn out. Little James could be heard wailing in the background.

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry. Bad time?" She asked guiltily.

"No, no, it's fine. You can ring any time, you know that." Hermione could hear the muffled voice of Ginny speaking soothing words to James. "Jamie has just been having a rough time of it, you know?"

Hermione closed her eyes and let her head rest on the back of her chair. "I do know," she whispered.

"How are things at work?" Harry asked after a short pause.

Respecting Harry's wish to change subjects, Hermione decided to tell him about Snape.

"I knew it!" Harry exclaimed, once she'd finished her story. Hermione could hear Ginny shushing him in the background, followed by Harry's quick apology before - by the sound of his footsteps - he moved out into the hallway. "Sorry about that- but do you remember me telling you?!"

"I do," Hermione replied with a laugh. "They never found a body," she quoted him.

"Exactly! So he's truly alive? I can't believe it! Did he look well?"

Hermione recalled Snape's appearance. "Apart from the permanent scowl that is etched on his face, he does. He looks better than ever, I'd say."

Harry snorted. "I guess that's what no longer acting as a double spy does to a wizard."

Hermione hummed noncommittally. "Most of the time, he still acts like a right git though. He went right back to insulting you, too."

"Yeah," Harry mused thoughtfully. "Well… I can imagine he's not feeling too happy, encountering someone from his past like this. The fact that a man of his talents accepted a low paying job on a completely different continent kind of speaks for itself, doesn't it?"

Hermione could hit herself on the forehead for her own stupidity. Any other person in Snape's position would either have demanded to work with someone else, or would have tried to keep it civil. But Snape wasn't like most other people. He was incredibly stubborn, and you could say that his speciality was driving people away by acting like a miserable bastard. It certainly explained his hot and cold behaviour towards Hermione. "Of course." Hermione let her head hit the desk. "How hadn't I thought of that?" She said with a slightly whiny tone of voice.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, 'Mione. Dealing with Severus Snape does that to a person. He makes you seethe and rage until you can't think clearly anymore. Besides, I've got the benefit of an outsider's perspective." Hermione heard Ginny's muffled voice call out for Harry. "Right. Sorry, I've got to go. Try remaining the bigger person when interacting with him and unless he insults you directly: Don't take the bait."

After saying quick goodbyes, Hermione slid from her chair and onto her still unmade bed. Her head was still reeling from the revelation the conversation with Harry had brought. She stared up at the ceiling, before closing her tired eyes.

Being the bigger person. Yeah, she was capable of doing that, right?

Hermione could take it no longer. "What are you doing?" Hermione asked agitatedly. She lowered the camera she had been using and turned to face Snape.

He lifted his quill from the notepad he had been writing on and looked up at her calmly. "I am translating hieroglyphics."

"Yes, I can see that," she said impatiently. "What I'm questioning is why? You're not an archaeologist." She gestured at the wall she'd been photographing. "Curse-Breakers don't translate hieroglyphics."

Snape lifted an eyebrow at her. "This one does."

"But you don't even have the qualifications!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration, while she testily tugged on an untamed curl that had been bothering her all day. Today had been trying, to say the least. Yesterday's conversation with Harry was still playing on Hermione's mind and she had slept fitfully because of it. To top it off, the atmosphere of the child's tomb unnerved her greatly, and she was feeling confused by Snape's behaviour. The latter was acting in a reserved - some would even call it professional - manner. After he had finished inspecting the child's grave for lingering curses, he had spent the remainder of that morning quietly observing her work. It made Hermione feel nervous. She didn't like someone breathing down her neck, especially not when it was the exacting former Hogwarts Potions Master.

"Last time I checked," Snape said acidly, cutting off Hermione's ruminations, "one does not need any specific qualification to translate hieroglyphics. Possessing the knowledge on how to carry out said translating should suffice, I expect." Clear disdain for the words Hermione had just uttered was written across the wizard's face.

He was challenging her again. She knew he was. Although to be fair, this time she was the one who had practically asked for it. Harry's words still ringing in her ears, Hermione let the camera she had been using to document the hieroglyphics dangle fromthe strap around her neck and held out her hand for Snape's notepad. "Do you?" She asked impatiently when he didn't make a move. "Possess the knowledge to translate hieroglyphics?" Hermione clarified.

Snape gave her a short nod.

"Which part were you translating?"

"There is no need-"

Hermione sighed in annoyance. "There is, actually. As far as I'm aware, I am more experienced in this field of work. That is why I am the one who is currently training you and not the other way around. So like it or not, it is my responsibility to check if your work is up to standard. Seeing as carrying out translations is not what you were hired for, I am now kindly asking you to hand over your work so I can look it over." She gave him a sweet smile. "Or would you like me to start carrying out Curse-Breaking duties? I'm not qualified to do so, but as you're probably aware, I have plenty of experience in dealing with the Dark Arts." She knew she sounded insufferable. She didn't care.

Snape pointedly glared at her first, before reluctantly handing her his notepad. "I wrote the hieroglyphics down in cursive too. I started at the top right of this wall." He turned on his heel. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be outside, taking my lunch break." He strode off, and Hermione almost expected to see his robes billow out behind him. Of course, they weren't at Hogwarts anymore and Snape wasn't wearing long black robes in this kind of climate, so all he actually left behind was an eerie silence. Hermione checked her watch and realised that Snape was right; it was past their lunch time already. Her stomach gave a protesting rumble when she decidedly turned away from the tomb's entrance and looked down at the notepad she was holding instead.

She immediately recognised the spiky, slanted handwriting as Snape's own, and felt a sudden, unexpected pang of sorrow. The last time she'd seen it was in bright red ink, taking the form of critiquing words, scrawled in the margins of her final sixth year Defence Against the Dark Arts paper. Shortly after, Hermione would spend almost a year on the run alongside Harry and Ron. The next time they saw Snape would be during Voldemort's brutal attempt on his life. Reading the words written by his hand again… it reminded her of days past. A different time of her life she was never able to return back to. Her "eighth" year at Hogwarts hadn't been the same. For one, Harry and Ron hadn't been there. For another-

Hermione shook her head when she felt her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Raking a trembling hand through her hair, she mentally berated herself that she could only allow such a thing to happen under the covers of her bed. Tucked away, where none were the wiser. Because those close the her knew. They knew that this Hermione wasn't the person they had known before the war. The pity in their eyes and their lingering gazes made Hermione's skin crawl. It had been a big reason for her to start travelling the world as soon as she had completed her N.E.W.T.s.

As Hermione was suddenly no longer able to bear spending even a single second longer in the confines of the small tomb, she chose the lesser of two evils: Joining Snape for lunch.

Casting her gaze about with squinted eyes against the sudden bright sunlight, she found him sitting in the shade of the small marquee tent Hermione had placed there the day before. He had conjured his own chair and a book was resting in his lap. His long legs were crossed at the ankles and stretched out before him.

Hermione joined him quietly. She dumped her bag on the sand before her own chair, spread out her lunch on the little side table, grabbed her own book, and propped her legs up on her bag once she had taken a seat.

Snape hadn't acknowledged the fact that Hermione had joined him in any way, so they both continued to read in silence. Occasionally, the quietude that settled over them was interrupted by the sound of a page turning, Hermione chewing a bite of her sandwich, and the calls of birds flying overhead; who were on their way to fetch food and water from the nearby Siwa Oasis.

Feeling slightly sleepy from the high temperatures, Hermione yawned as she turned a page. She was reading a Muggle book on ancient Egyptian literature. She had been drawn to it because of the ancient Egyptian speech she had recited the day before. The volume was mainly filled with references to ancient Gods, which gave Hermione some more insight into the meaning of the hieroglyphics she commonly encountered within tombs and graves. To her delight, the book also contained some ancient Egyptian love poems and tales. The translations of the poems was quite literal though, so Hermione found her hands itching to rewrite them into better, more flowing prose.

She dared a glance at Snape, who was still seemingly engrossed in his own book, and then checked her watch. She might still have enough time to try her hand at a poem that had caught her eye. Silently summoning parchment and biro, she got lost in the work and consequently, lost track of time.

"An hour has passed," Snape suddenly declared, startling Hermione out of her concentration.

Hermione blushed slightly in realisation. "Has it really?"

Snape only nodded, before rising from his seat. Without Hermione's noticing, he had made the book he was reading disappear to Merlin knows where. While she hastily began packing her bag, for some reason, Snape hadn't headed back to the tomb yet. Hermione noticed his dawdling and looked up curiously. He seemed to be deep in thought, his black eyes tracing the outlines of the sand dunes that surrounded them. She was about to ask him if he needed something from her, when the pieces of parchment that were still laying in Hermione's lap got picked up by a sudden gust of wind. Hermione jumped up and hastily pulled out her wand to summon them to her, when Snape beat her to it. She watched as the pieces of parchment flew towards him and landed neatly in his hand. Hermione looked on in mortification when he started reading what she had written down.

"Love poems?" He finally asked in surprise.

Hermione regarded him with suspicion. She had expected him to immediately start making fun of her. "Yes, it's ancient Egyptian literature."

He grimaced. "This second one is much too saccharine."

Hermione wasn't able to hide her surprise; he hadn't gone straight to mocking her. He was reading a love poem after all, so the opportunity was right there. Was Snape actually attempting to hold a normal conversation with her for once? She tentatively made her way over to him and glanced at the piece of parchment. It was a poem praising the beauty of its writer's love interest. "It is," she carefully replied as she found herself agreeing with him. She pointed at a poem further down the page. "I quite like the third one, though."

Hermione was bowled over when Snape actually started reading the words aloud. His voice was low and barely audible. The words almost got carried from earshot by the steady breeze that tugged at their clothes. The words, combined with the deep timbre of his voice, caused involuntary shivers to run down Hermione's spine.

"The shrill of the wild goose,

unable to resist,

the temptation of my bait.

While I, in a tangle of love,

unable to break free,

must watch the bird carry away my nets.

And when my mother returns,

loaded with birds,

and finds me empty-handed,

what shall I say?

That I caught no birds?

That I myself was caught in your net?"

Silence descended upon them while they both let the words sink in.

"I agree. It is the most lyrical of the three. The others are too maudlin for my tastes."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Her next question left her mouth before she could stop it. "And what are your own tastes," she started asking tentatively, "when it comes to poetry?"

Snape's black eyes locked with hers. Without looking away, he fished what Hermione recognised as the book he had been reading from his trouser's pocket. His nimble fingers quickly flipped it around to show its cover to her.

It was a collection of Emily Dickinson's poems. Hermione felt astonished that this was what he had been reading. What surprised her even more, was the fact that he had volunteered to show it to her. The copy was worn and many of its pages were dogeared; it looked well-loved. Knowing Snape, he had probably filled every blank space with his own notes and observations.

Hermione tried to call to mind the last time she had read Emily Dickinson's work. She vaguely recalled sitting in the deserted classical languages section somewhere in the back of her primary school library. A book, opened to a page filled with short verses would be balancing on one of her legs, while she placed a notebook for jotting down notes on the other. She remembered sitting there often. By the end of her lunch break, she the shelving of the bookcase she was sitting against would always be digging into her back painfully. Hermione also knew that her 10-year-old self had kept glancing left and right, always silently praying that none of her teasing classmates would find her before lunch break was over.

"I don't favour one poet in particular," Snape said, his voice pulling Hermione out of her memories. "This was simply one of the only pieces of poetry I happened to have brought with me." He stowed the book away again.

Hermione followed his movements with her eyes and noticed that his pockets most likely contained extension charms. The same one she had cast on her own bag. "Me neither," Hermione replied thoughtfully, while they slowly started making their way back to the tomb, kicking up sand with every step they took. "Different poems suit different times of the year, different phases of one's life, different experiences someone goes through..." Hermione started listing, as she felt her enthusiasm at finally being able to discuss literature with another person rising. "I could go on and on, but what I'm trying to say is that a singular poet's works - however extensive it may be - would never suffice." They halted before the tomb's entrance and Hermione met Snape's steady gaze. "It's the same with books. Where Hogwarts a History might've been my favourite book during my first year there, though still very interesting, it is hardly relevant to my current life."

Snape paused, while he considered her words. "I do agree for the most part, although…"

They carried on an animated discussion. Meanwhile, Hermione checked Snape's translations and he waited patiently for her to finish. As she pulled out her wand, Hermione realised with a start that she was rather enjoying her conversation with Snape. He possessed a vast knowledge on a broad variety of subjects. It also seemed that he thought about matters in at least as much depth as Hermione did. The fact that she was enjoying herself was in such stark contrast to the tense mood of that morning. She kind of had a hard time wrapping her mind around it. Hermione quietly observed that this might have been the first civil conversation she had ever held with Snape.

Setting the thought aside for now, Hermione lowered her biro and beckoned Snape over. "I've finished checking over your translation. It is mostly correct, although you've missed some of the trickier nuances that inevitable occur while working with wizarding hieroglyphics." Hermione raised her wand. "You see, you'll only be able to understand the full context once you've actually seen the hieroglyphics like they were intended to." Performing a complex wand-movement, she spoke aloud her favourite spell to date. "Tabula Expergiscendi."

Hermione smiled when she could hear Snape's sharp inhale as they watched the stagnant hieroglyphics on the wall beginning to stir. Snakes slowly started slithering and hissing, men began bowing, eating and drinking, a seated child started dangling their arms, eyes started blinking and looking around, owls were rotating their heads, and sparks shot out of ancient wands. Hermione had seen it all before, but still, goosebumps always spread across her limbs whenever she watched the ancient scenes unfold before her eyes. She glanced at Snape. His eyes were glittering as he took it all in and his eyebrows were raised in surprise. Hermione had never seen his face become this animated before and she could feel her smile lingering at the sight.

"It's pretty amazing, isn't it?" She asked him after a couple of minutes.

Snape gave a small nod, before averting his eyes from the scene before them. "So how does this affect the translation?" He asked as he met her eyes.

Hermione showed him how the meaning of certain hieroglyphics could change depending on their movement and their interactions with surrounding hieroglyphics. "Attention to detail is important, you see?" She pointed to a man getting hit by a spell. "Is this a fatal spell, or actually a healing one? Assumptions are easily made."

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon teaching Snape the nuances of translating wizarding hieroglyphics. Once she arrived back in her room, she realised she had actually enjoyed herself during the latter part of that day. Perhaps working alongside Snape wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

The following day, Hermione found herself feeling on edge, as she checked her watch and realised Snape was now almost an hour late. She chewed on her bottom lip. Snape didn't seem like the type of person to ever run late, unless he would have a very good reason to do so. During Potions class, he had always arrived perfectly on time. One time during fifth year, she was just checking her watch when he had strode into the dungeon classroom. It had been nine on the dot and Hermione recalled feeling impressed by his accuracy.

Hermione looked down at the photographs she had developed that evening. She wanted to show Snape how they could use them to translate the hieroglyphics off-site.

Suddenly, Hermione's attention was grabbed by the sensation of magic stirring the air. She looked up just in time to witnessed Snape appear out of thin air, as he silently Apparated right in front of the tomb's entrance. She watched on, as he undid the warding spells with sharp movements of his wand, before he wrenched open the door, and disappeared inside with long strides.

With a feeling of unease creeping up on her, Hermione trudged through the sand, and paused when she reached the tomb's entrance. Hesitantly, she opened the door, slightly wincing at the creaking sound the ancient wood made. She stepped over the threshold, quickly turned to face the door, and pushed it closed.

Tense silence permeated the air. A sense of foreboding was brought along with it. Loathe to acknowledge Snape immediately, Hermione kept her back to him while she nervously studied the pattern of the wood in front of her. The scuffing sound of shoes against stone was what finally made her gather her courage and turn around.

Hermione instantly knew that she had not imagined the frenzied quality to Snape's earlier movements, nor his agitation, which she had sensed as soon as she had laid eyes on him. She was immediately pinned down by Snape's cold, black stare, and froze. Hermione forced herself to remain calm and return his stare with her own even one. Whatever she had done to anger him, she would handle it.

While she waited for Snape to speak first, Hermione tried to subtly gauge his mood. Apart from his eyes, Snape looked perfectly calm and composed, which she knew from experience usually meant he was fuming on the inside. Clearly, his ire was directed at her, so Hermione tried to figure out whatever she had done that enraged him so. She came up empty. Hermione actually thought they had gotten on quite well the day before, especially considering their shared history. She figured about half a minute had passed and began to shift uncomfortably when Snape finally spoke.

"You're not even aware of what you've done, are you?" His voice came out in an accusing, silent hiss.

So she had been right. This was about something Hermione had done wrong. She desperately wracked her brain, but was interrupted by the folded piece of parchment that Snape suddenly shoved in her face. Hermione was barely able to grab hold of it before Snape drew back and folded his arms.

With trembling hands and slight curiosity, Hermione slowly unfolded the parchment. She felt the colour drain from her face when she immediately recognised her best friend's handwriting. Now Hermione knew what this was about. She scanned the letter's contents, which confirmed her suspicions.

Harry had written to Snape, because Harry now knew Snape was still alive. Something he could only know if someone had told him - and it had been her who had. It was Hermione who had told him. She shook her head at the impulsivity of her friend. "Oh, Harry," she whispered with a defeated sigh.

"Indeed," Snape said with clear disdain. He snatched the letter from her hands and wandlessly set fire to it. Ignoring Hermione's shocked gasp, he went on. "Imagine my surprise when this morning, I was woken by the sound of an owl insistently tapping at my window. You see, Miss Ganger," he spat out her name like the words contained venom, "I rarely receive owls, as most people presume me dead."

Hermione flinched at the word and took a step back.

"To my immense displeasure, it turned out that Potter-" his lip curled in disgust, "has discovered that I am, in fact, not. Apparently, someone informed him of that fact." Snape glared at her. "As you have finally managed to deduce yourself, there is only one person who that could've been."

"I'm sorry!" Hermione blurted out. Unable to bear Snape's withering look any longer, she averted her eyes.

"I don't care," he replied cruelly.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she forced herself to look back up at Snape. "I know I shouldn't have told him. I wasn't thinking! I was just telling him about my day, trying to distract him…" She frantically searched for the right words, but came up empty.

Snape stepped closer then, causing Hermione to back up further. She felt her head hit rough wood, but ignored it. She looked up at Snape.

The rage that had undoubtedly been building, started showing on Snape face. It was reflected in his burning eyes, flared nostrils, and quivering top lip.

"And that's exactly the problem Granger, you weren't thinking. Allow me to assist you with that, as you seem to be in desperate need of it. There are several possible consequences you should have considered before running your mouth." He was fuming now. The low volume of his voice didn't diminish the cutting viciousness of his words. "Firstly," he held up his index finger, "I will remind you of the existence of Potter's other annoying little friends. He will have told his weasel wife and weasel best friend as soon as he could. I won't be surprised if the news will have reached the general public by tomorrow. Secondly," he added his middle finger, "I will point out the possible consequence of this happening. As you're probably well aware, I have made many enemies during my time as a spy. A lot of them still want to see me dead. Not only will this put my own life in danger, but those of our colleagues as well."

Hermione started shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she started saying again, but Snape just raised his voice to talk over her.

"I took a big risk by coming out of hiding. I will have to go back if the papers get hold of this news. There's a big chance of public outcry for a trial if that happens, seeing as I'm responsible for the death of their beloved Dumbledore, and taking into account the many war crimes I've committed on behalf of The Dark Lord. I could be sentenced to life in Azkaban. I won't even rule out the possibility of a Dementor's kiss. So no, Miss Granger," Snape said, loud enough to drown out Hermione's continued weak protests, "I will not accept your apology." His face was filled with pure hatred, which was clearly directed at Hermione. "I have requested Mrs. Harding to be assigned to another project. She has agreed. I will be taking my leave now."

Without further ado, Snape stepped back and pulled out his wand.

"No, wait-"Hermione began weakly. She started reaching out for him, but was forced to watch in shocked disbelief as Snape Disapparated on the spot. She slid to the ground and buried her head into her hands, silently cursing her own stupidity.

Hermione stayed seated like that for a long time. She didn't attempt to quell the silent tears that were now running down her cheeks. She was angry with herself, but also with Harry. Why had Harry sent Snape that letter without consulting Hermione first? What did he think Snape's reaction would be? Had he been hoping for a happy reunion? A chance to burry the hatched? Hermione shook her head. The mere thought was laughable. Snape hated Harry; Hermione was convinced that would never change. She knew Snape had a point about Harry telling Ginny about his survival, as she was Harry's wife after all. Hermione knew that Ginny would understand the gravity of the situation however, and would therefore not tell a soul. What she wasn't so sure of though, was Ron keeping his mouth shut. Had Harry told Ron? They were both aurors. Co-workers that saw each other daily. Be that as it may, that still didn't mean Harry had told Ron about Snape the first chance he got.

Hermione steeled her resolve, and dug her agenda out of her trouser's pocket. Today was Friday, which meant Harry had the day off to care for James.

Determined to practice some damage control, Hermione stuffed her agenda back into her pocket, wiped her eyes, and stood up. When she wrenched open the tomb's door however, she was forced to halt in her tracks. Shielding her eyes against against the bright sunlight, she was met with the sight of Tarik - who had seemingly just Apparated to the site - as he made his way over to her.

"Hermione!" He called out by way of greeting. "What happened? Where's Severus? Maureen just told me that you needed a new partner, but she didn't explain why."

Hermione suppressed a sigh. She didn't feel like explaining herself right now. If only she had left a minute earlier. "It's… a long story," she settled on, as Tarik halted before her.

He paused to take in her dishevelled appearance, puffy eyes, and tear streaked cheeks. He opened his mouth, and closed it again. His eyes softened in understanding. "I imagine Snape must be a difficult person to work with. Come," he turned around and started trudging back to the marquee tent, gesturing for Hermione to follow him.

Feeling her resolve slightly wavering, Hermione did so after a moment of hesitation.

Once arrived, they sat down in the conjured chairs that still littered the tent. Tarik rummaged in his bag, pulled out a thermos and two glasses, and filled them both to the brim with a foaming black tea. He thrust one of them into Hermione's hands.

"Here, some shai. Ommi always told me that nothing can't be fixed with a good, strong cup of shai. I imagine your English omm said something similar?"

Understanding that Tarik was alluding to her mum, Hermione nodded carefully. She inhaled its spicy aroma, before taking a tentative sip of the well-sugared tea. She actually found that it made her feel a bit calmer. She let out a small sigh, "thanks."

Tarik winked at Hermione, before taking a sip of his own. He sat back and sighed in contentment. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked her after a moment of silence.

Hermione considered her colleague. "Not really," she replied honestly. "I need to do some damage control first. Otherwise, you - along with everyone else - will have found out what has happened by tomorrow morning."

Tarik cocked his head. "That bad, huh?"

Hermione nodded. While finishing her tea, she listened with half an ear as Tarik told her about a promising potential dig site they had recently discovered. "This might be big, Hermione. Isn't it exciting? I reckon it'll take months of work, but-" he stopped talking, as he seemed to have gotten distracted by something behind Hermione's back.

She turned around and was met with the sight of a bright pink Fwooper soaring through the sky. It was clearly heading their way. She watched as it landed on Tarik's leg and dropped a folded piece of parchment in his lap. He put his shai down and scratched the bird's head distractedly while unfolding the note and reading its contents. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he read on. Once he was finished he, looked back up at Hermione. His gaze was steady.

"I think I might know what this conflict was about after all," he only said, before handing Hermione the piece of parchment.

She accepted it apprehensively and felt Tarik's eyes resting on her as she quickly read the note. In it, Maureen briefly reminded her colleagues that Snape's involvement with the NAWS was confidential. Hermione handed the note back to Tarik and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I told Harry."

"Ah, that explains it," Tarik only replied. Hermione watched the Fwooper slowly close his eyes contentedly as Tarik continued petting his feathers.

"Harry sent him a letter this morning. Snape arrived fuming because of it." Hermione hung her head in shame. "I wasn't thinking when I told Harry! And Snape's convinced that Harry is going to tell everyone that he's still alive. I tried to explain to him that yes, Harry has always regretted Snape's death, so it explains the letter. But that doesn't mean he's stupid and is going to tell everyone he runs across."

"So- damage control," Tarik summarised.

Hermione nodded and stood up determinedly. "Damage control." She handed Tarik back her glass with a muttered thanks.

"I'll cover for you!" He called out to her, just before Hermione Apparated.

She smiled at him gratefully while the world around her started fading away.

Chapter Text

Hermione Apparated directly to the Apparition zone of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic and stepped out into its big, glass foyer. Bright sunlight filtered through the glass and lit up the space. Despite the hot weather outside, thanks to the integration of extensive cooling charms, the temperature inside remained pleasant. As always, this part of the Ministry was buzzing with activity and Hermione was met by a bustling crowd of witches and wizards which she had to weave her way through. Most were walking with a sense of purpose; a clear destination in mind. These were most likely either Ministry workers or people that were heading to an appointment. Some workers were holding coffee and tea cups and lingering in small groups at the sides of the foyer, taking a break and probably longing for their workday to end. If they were anything like Hermione's colleagues, they were probably asking one another generic question about each other's weekend plans.

Interspersed throughout were the usual tourists. Some of them had their noses pressed up against the glass, taking in the sprawling oasis that surrounded the Ministry building. Others' attention was drawn to the ancient Egyptian wizarding artefacts that were showcased around the foyer. Hermione looked on proudly when she recognised the display that showcased some ancient Egyptian wands her and her team had unearthed about half a year ago. Most of the tourists, however, were looking up in awe at the tall, obelisk-shaped part of the Ministry, which was an extension to the foyer and could clearly be seen rising up into the sky thanks to the glass walls and ceiling. This was where Hermione was heading.

The obelisk was far bigger and taller than the ones ancient Egyptians used to build. Hermione always found that she couldn't stare at its busy exterior for long periods of time, because it consisted of many a colourful and ever-changing hieroglyph and image.

Once Hermione had made her way inside the obelisk - the main part of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic - she only had to cross over to its other side to reach her destination. Hermione slowed her pace and took the time to look up, and was - as always - met by the sight of a dizzying amount of flying carpets. They were whizzing about the whole length of the building, moving vertically, horizontally, and diagonally. If Hermione hadn't known that their magic prevented crashes, she would've gotten nervous at the sheer amount of carpets flying around and crossing each other's paths. Most carpets were occupied by one or more witches or wizards, who were heading towards one of the balconies that ran around the obelisk's perimeter. Hermione knew that the Egyptian Minister of Magic's office was located in the very top of the structure. She shuddered. Despite what must be a stunning view, she couldn't imagine having to ride a magic carpet up to that height multiple times a day.

'No,' Hermione thought as she crossed the hall and walked into the Portkey Office. While she would choose flying carpets over brooms any day, her preferred method of travel would always remain Apparition. She halted before the counter and was greeted by a pretty witch in her thirties. She had kind brown eyes and had cut her dark hair into a short bob, which Hermione thought suited her.

"Welcome to the Portkey Office. How can I help?" She asked with a friendly tone of voice.

"Hi," Hermione greeted the witch with a small smile. "I'd like to use one of my monthly Portkeys to travel to London." She took out her wand and handed it to the witch.

The witch nodded, pulled out a clipboard with a piece of parchment attached and a self-inking quill, and gave both to Hermione. "Certainly. Please fill out this form and my colleague will set up a Portkey for you shortly. Next!"

Hermione quickly got out of the way, as the impatient wizard that had queued up behind her almost bumped into her, and chose a seat at random. She began to fill out the questionnaire, but her eyes were almost immediately drawn to the quill she was holding. These were new. Self-inking quills always reminded her of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and therefore, of Fred and George. Her ears suddenly filled with the chilling echo of Percy's horrified screams. The image of Fred's lifeless body and the ghost of his smile still visible on his face was suddenly clear as day. Hermione watched on in stunned horror, as his brother desperately tried to shake him awake-

Hermione clutched the quill tightly between her fingertips and pushed its sharp tip into to the parchment with more force than necessary. Despite almost ripping the form twice, she managed to fill out the rest of the questionnaire on auto-pilot. She knew it by heart, as she filled it in many times a month. She wished the Ministry could speed up the process by providing her with a pass or something. Sadly, bureaucracy seemed to be as prevalent within the Egyptian Ministry of Magic as it was within the British one.

Hermione wordlessly handed the clipboard back to the witch behind the counter and waited patiently while the witch scanned the answers she had provided. The witch handed her wand back and pointed to her right. "Second door to the left. Safe travels!"

Hermione nodded her thanks and headed to the indicated door. A familiar wizard who had introduced himself to Hermione as Mr. Farid was on the other side of the door.

"Ms. Granger," he greeted her, without looking up from the Portkey he was preparing. "Heading to London I presume?"

"I am," she answered.

He nodded and pulled out a chair. "Please have a seat while I finish preparing your Portkey."

They exchanged some pleasantries while Mr. Farid put the finished touches to the fake Knut that would be transporting her to London. The Egyptian Ministry of Magic always used fake Knuts for Portkeys. Why they chose Knuts specifically, Hermione couldn't say. It probably didn't really matter what they used, because these standard issue Portkeys always brought its user to the Portkey Office of the Department of Magical Transportation at the British Ministry of Magic.

Hermione was pulled from her musings by the feeling of cold metal being pressed into the palm of her hand, as Mr. Farid handed her the Portkey. He touched the tip of his wand to it. "Safe travels," was all he said before wordlessly activating the Portkey.

Hermione felt the familiar, though unpleasant tug behind her navel as she was propelled towards her destination. It took a couple of seconds before she landed in one of the padded rooms that was used for Portkey travel at the British Ministry of Magic. Having gotten used to Portkey travel by now, Hermione luckily managed to land on her feet. She walked out of the room and into a deserted hallway, deposited the used Portkey in the jar that was placed next to the lifts, and pressed its 'up' button.

It soon arrived with great jangling and clattering. A cool female voice filled the hallway as its golden grille slid open. 'Level 6: Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center.'

To Hermione's chagrin, the lift was filled to the brim with witches and wizard, so she had to squeeze her way inside. The grille closed again and the chain started rattling as they descended up into the Atrium. Not knowing where to look, Hermione focused her eyes on the paper aeroplanes which were circling the light fixture that was softly swinging from the ceiling.

"Hermione Granger?" A voice suddenly piped up from the back of the lift.

She closed her eyes in annoyance as she felt the attention of every occupant of the lift shift to her.

The wizard inched closer. "Out of my way, thank you. By Merlin, it is you!"

Hermione didn't recognise the man, so she smiled at him weakly, but didn't respond otherwise.

In the meantime, the people around her started murmuring and looking at her curiously. The wizard started prattling on about how Hermione had disappeared from the public eye and what great service she had provided to the wizarding world.

Hermione nodded politely, but didn't respond to any of his questions. Relief washed over her when the golden grille slid open again and the cool female voice announced that they had arrived at 'The Atrium'. She tried to disappear into the crowd, but the overenthusiastic wizard grabbed hold of her arm and halted her from doing so. Feeling her annoyance quickly rising, Hermione tried to wrench her arm loose, but his grip was almost vice-like.

"If you could spare a minute, I would love to hear you opinion on the Wizengamot's most recent decision regarding-"

"Sir, really. I only have a couple of hours before my next Portkey is scheduled to take me back home. I really don't-" Hermione started saying.

"Hermione?" A familiar voice asked from somewhere within the crowd.

Hermione looked up and was met with the comforting sight of none other than Arthur Weasley. She sighed in relief and was finally able to shake off the insistent wizard's grip. "Mr. Weasley!" She greeted him warmly.

He finally managed to reach her, put a comforting arm around her shoulder, and quickly led her to a less busy part of the Atrium. As they walked, she looked up at him gratefully. Once they had managed to separate themselves from the crowd, Mr. Weasley immediately pulled Hermione into a tight hug, which Hermione returned gladly. It felt like coming home and she found that she had a hard time letting go. When she finally did, her eyes were slightly wet. She was grateful that Mr. Weasley didn't comment on it. He only grabbed hold of her shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly.

"It's so good to see you Hermione. How have you been?"

They talked for a while about Hermione's job, how all of the Weasleys were doing, and the purpose of Hermione's visit.

"Tell you what, I'll walk you to the Floos," Mr. Weasley proposed as soon as he heard about Hermione's plan to visit Harry. He steered her towards the part of the Atrium that was lined with fireplaces. When they arrived, he gave her one last hug and made her promise to drop by the Burrow soon. "Just know that we're very proud of you Hermione. I'll give Molly your regards, too." Mr. Weasley said as he stepped back to make room for Hermione to enter the Floo.

She threw in the Floo powder and called out 'Number Twelve Grimmauld Place'. Hermione turned to face Mr. Weasley and gave him one last watery smile. "It was lovely to see you again, Mr. Weasley. I promise to visit soon."

"Please do," Mr. Weasley said earnestly.

With one last wave, Hermione stepped into the green flames and was whisked off to Harry and Ginny's home.

When Hermione stepped out of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place's drawing room, she was met by the sight of Harry, sitting on the sofa with what seemed to be a fast asleep James. The former looked up in bewilderment when Hermione stepped through.

"'Mione?" Harry asked in surprise. He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't quite belief that Hermione was, in fact, standing in his drawing room on a random Friday morning in October.

"Hi," she greeted him sheepishly while she started cleaning the soot of her robes using her wand. She was glad that - if asked - she could blame her moist eyes on to the soot that always got everywhere when using Floo travel.

Before Hermione could explain her surprise visit, however, both their attention was drawn to James, who began to stir in his father's arms and slowly open his eyes. He yawned and blinked up curiously at Hermione, before understanding dawned on his face and he quickly crawled off Harry's lap. "Aunty 'Mione!" He exclaimed happily. He made his way over to her as quickly as he could and wrapped his arms around her legs tightly.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she crouched down and hoisted the 18-month-old up and into her arms. "Hello sweetheart," she greeted her godson fondly. "How have you been?"

He wrapped his arms around her neck and planted a big kiss on her cheek. "I brave!" He exclaimed proudly.

Hermione swallowed with difficulty as she felt herself getting choked up. She cuddled her godson close. "Right you are love, very brave indeed."

Harry stood up and approached them. "We've been telling him he's brave a lot. Although I sometimes think the word has lost all meaning to him. Maybe it doesn't matter, at least he knows it's a positive attribute."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "So you're probably wondering why I'm here," she said after a moment.

"Well, I was when I initially saw you. But now that I think about it, I think I can kind of guess."

"Can you now," Hermione said drily while she shot Harry a look. James began wiggling out of her hold and she put the toddler back down on the ground. She watched him walk over to the blanket Harry had spread out for him and start playing with his toy dragon.

Harry led her back to the sofa and quickly started gathering up sippy cups, another blanket, a variety of toys, and a couple of picture books. "Sorry for the mess," he apologised, while he magically put the clutter back in their rightful places.

Hermione waved him off as she sat down. She handed the toy truck she nearly sat on back to James, who placed his dragon into it immediately. She waited patiently for Harry to finally sit down too, who called over Kreacher first and asked him for lunch.

"So," Hermione began once Kreacher had left and Harry was finally seated, "you wrote Snape a letter."

"I did. But listen Hermione, I'm so sorry. As soon as I told Ginny I knew I messed up. I was going to ring you as soon as you got off work today."

"So you only told Ginny?" Hermione asked for clarification.

Harry nodded. "Only Ginny."

Hermione released a sigh of relief and sat back as she felt some of the tensed muscles in her shoulders loosen. She allowed her head to rest on the back of the sofa. "He's beside himself, Harry," she spoke to the ceiling. "He refuses to work with me any longer. Why did you think it was a good idea to send him a letter?" She tiredly rolled her head to the side to face Harry.

Harry looked at her apologetically. "I knew he would never want to speak to me in person." He clenched his jaw and looked at James. "But you see, Snape is the only person left alive that was close to my mum." He shook his head, causing his fringe to fall into his eyes. "I needed to at least try."

Hermione raised her head slowly as she registered the pain in Harry's voice and pulled him close. "Oh Harry," she said softly. She felt herself choke up, but didn't allow any tears to spill. The image of hungry flames licking at parchment sprung to mind. "I wouldn't count on receiving a reply," Hermione added carefully before she let go of him. She chose not to disclose that the reason for this was Snape's bout of pyromania.

Harry gave a curt not. Resignation briefly flickered across his face.

They didn't speak for a long time after that, both lost in thought. It was James who managed to lift the sombre mood that had descended upon the room, by clambering up the sofa and planting himself firmly in between them.

"Hi, Jamie," Hermione greeted him with a watery smile.

He cocked his head as he took in her wet eyes and sad frown. Suddenly, his face lit up in understanding. "'Mione brave!" He exclaimed proudly while clapping his hands once, as if he had managed to formulate the answer to a very difficult question.

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't suppress a laugh. "You're absolutely right, James."

Harry looked down at his son with a fond smile and pulled him into his lap. "I think lunch should be ready by now."

They headed downstairs for lunch. Afterwards, Harry put James down for a nap. When he reappeared in the drawing room, Hermione pushed a cup of tea into Harry's hands and forced him to sit back down on the sofa with her. She eyed the monitoring spell Harry had cast to check if James was really asleep, before turning to Harry. Hermione knew it was time to broach the subject they had both been tiptoeing around for the past hour. "So," she began, searching for the right words, "I noticed James looks a bit different from since the last time I saw him," she settled on.

Harry tensed and looked down at the mug he had tightly wrapped his hands around. After a moment passed, he nodded. "We ended up having to shave his head. It was falling out in clumps. His whole cot was covered in it. We decided that shaving it all off was the best course of action. Ginny luckily knew a spell that made quick work of it and so far, Jamie doesn't really seem to have noticed."

Hermione ground her teeth. She could cry at the unfairness of it all - and she actually had; plenty of times already. About three months ago, James had quite suddenly fainted. At first, Harry and Ginny thought he had just fallen down, as children of that age often tended to do. However, James had hit his head quite hard, so they had ended up taking him to St Mungo's. There, the healers had healed James' head wound and had also performed some standard diagnostic tests. One of those consisted of general blood testing. It came back abnormal. A specialised healer had to be called in. After additional testing, the healer had sat Harry and Ginny down and told them two devastating pieces of news: Firstly, James seemed to be suffering from some kind of blood cancer. Immediate treatment was necessary. Secondly, wizards and witches don't get cancer, as normally, the magic in wizards' and witches' bodies prevented abnormal cell growth. She concluded that therefore, James had not inherited the magical abilities his parents possessed. In short; James was a Squib. As a result, Harry and Ginny were forced to take James to a Muggle hospital for treatment. There, they diagnosed him with childhood leukaemia. Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia to be more precise. Treatment was to be started right away; chemotherapy, too. Right now, James had just finished his third round, which had apparently resulted in his hair falling out.

The news had devastated Hermione. She actually remembered sinking to her knees in the middle of Cairo's wizarding marketplace when Harry had rung her up to inform her of their horrifying new reality. As James' godmother, Hermione tried to be involved as much as possible. Maureen had even given her some time off to stay in England for a while. As it turned out though, apart from offering moral support, there wasn't much Hermione could do. She was back on the job after only two weeks.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts by Harry, who suddenly buried his head into his hand. "I didn't want to tell you this over the phone, but they gave him on a heavier dose, Hermione. The first two rounds haven't done enough. We're still waiting to hear if it has been effective." Even though his voice was muffled by his hands, Hermione could clearly hear the anguish that permeated through it.

Hermione started shaking her head in disbelief. "Surely-"

Harry abruptly sat upright. His eyes were bloodshot and his chin was trembling. "They saw no change. How is that even possible?" He swallowed and tore his eyes from his clenched fist. "I feel like I've failed him." His voice was barely audible.

Hermione took the mug from Harry, quickly set it down, and then grabbed hold of both of his hands. "No, Harry. No, you mustn't say that. You've all had rotten luck. That's all this is. Bad luck." She willed him to look up at her. "Harry, do not draw conclusions." She gestured at the image of James' cot on the monitoring spell, "Jamie is still here, alive and well. People without magical abilities beat cancer all the time, especially young children. Their bodies are young and they're bloody resilient. His doctors clearly haven't given up on him yet and so shouldn't you." She quickly wiped away an errant tear and forced a smile.

"You sound like Ginny," Harrytold her quietly

"Good! You know as well as I do that there's no point in arguing with us. We always end up being right."

Harry let out a laugh. "I do know, unfortunately."

Hermione squeezed her best friend's hands one last time before letting go.

That evening, Hermione stood in the communal kitchen of her place of residence, where she was dumping the contents of a tin of soup into a saucepan. She turned on the hob, and added a wooden spoon which she magically set to stirring the asparagus soup. Hermione turned around with a small sigh and allowed herself to lean tiredly against the kitchen counter. Lost in thought, she stared at the crooked kitchen cabinets opposite her while she waited for her soup to warm.

Hermione was about to turn back around to check on her supper when her attention was drawn to a figure appearing in the kitchen's doorway. Her head snapped up and she frowned when her eyes met none other than Snape's. He was carrying a tray of what seemed like dirty dishes and froze when he spotted her. He wore different clothes, those he had for most of her life - severe black robes and a matching scowl.

Strangely, the first thing that flitted through Hermione’s head was how odd it looked to see Snape engaging in a common household task like carrying dirty dishes to the kitchen sink. Then there was the fact that he was apparently also living in the shared accommodations NAWS provided to their non-native employees. It made sense, of course, as it had to Hermione when she had chosen to move in. The rent was cheap, their wages average, and affordable housing within the wizarding quarters of Cairo was scarce. The fact that Snape would actually be living in the same accommodations as she was had just never really occurred to Hermione.

Hermione raised her hand slowly, placatingly, as if approaching a wild animal. "Prof- Snape," she began. She knew she had to grab this rare opportunity with both hands. She needed to tell him her side of the story.

Snape immediately turned back around.

"No- Wait!" She stepped forward. Hermione would not let him get away this time.

He was walking away from her with long strides and Hermione hurried to avoid losing him in the maze of hallways. She had just caught up with him, but was forced to watch on in dazed resignation as Snape wandlessly opened his door and was about to throw it shut.

No. Hermione gritted her teeth in renewed determination. She would not let him get away this time. She swiftly closed the distance and was able to place her foot in the door opening right before Snape tried to slam it shut. Hermione yelped out in pain as the door bounced off her foot.

She ignored the pain as best she could. Ignoring the tears that sprang to her eyes, she righted her back and faced the now fuming Snape.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," he said in a low, intimidating voice.

"I need to speak with you," Hermione told him with determination. She knew she had crossed into dangerous territory, but didn't really care. The saying 'in for a penny, in for a pound,' flitted through her mind as she placed her hand on his door and pushed it open further.

Snape narrowed his eyes at her and grabbed his wand. "Get. Out."

Hermione shook her head. Without further ado, she launched into her speech. "Firstly, I'd like to apologise for my reckless behaviour. I'm sorry. You had every reason to be angry with me." She paused to steel herself. Speaking to Snape about Harry was never a good idea. "I spoke with Harry today. He only told his wife about your survival. Ginny immediately understood the gravity of the situation and made sure Harry will keep his mouth shut. Your secret is safe with them." Hermione paused to eye Snape's wand, which he was now pointing at her.

"You have ten seconds to step outside," he told her icily. His narrowed eyes were shooting daggers at her. He looked livid.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath, but decided to dredge on. "Secondly,"

"One."

"Secondly," Hermione repeated, choosing to ignore Snape's unnerving countdown, "I asked him why he sent you that letter. I think you would like to hear-"

"Two."

Hermione raised her voice. "It was only a harmless letter."

"Three."

Hermione felt her anger rise and changed tactics. "You chose to come out of hiding." She pointed at Snape’s chest. "You decided to take a job where you are required to go out into public."

"Six."

"Wait, that's not fair-"

"Nine."

"Oh, will you get over yourself?!" She screamed at him in frustration.

Snape opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"You could've just as easily taken on a new identity and brewed potions to order! But no, you just had to become a bloody Curse-Breaker." Hermione crossed the threshold without breaking eye-contact. "The public will find out. They will. Whether you like it or not. So if it wasn't for me or Harry spilling your secret, it will be one of our colleagues. And if it isn't for them, a member of the public will eventually take notice. Ultimately, there's always Rita Skeeter." Hermione cocked her head. "She's a bloody unregistered beetle Animagus. Did you know that? I only found out myself in fourth year." She stared into Snape's bottomless, black eyes. "Managed to capture her eventually. For months, my dorm mates kept wondering why I was keeping a pet beetle on my bedside table." Immense satisfaction coursed through Hermione when brief surprise flickered across Snape's face. She vaguely registered that they were standing very close. Almost chest to chest, actually.

"Get out." Snape finally growled. It was the only warning he gave her, before he finally made good on his threat. He waved his wand and an unseen force blasted her out of his room and back out into the hallway.

Hermione's back hit the wall at the same time Snape slammed his door closed. The impact knocked the wind out of her and she winced at the pain. "Fuck!" She howled out in frustration. She stared at Snape's door for half a minute, before suddenly remembering her soup and speeding back to the kitchen.

There, she was met with the sight of her now boiled over pan and therefore ruined soup. The wooden spoon lay forgotten on the ground; it had probably stopped stirring as soon as Hermione had left the room. She angrily grabbed the handle of the saucepan and dumped its burnt contents into the sink. Feeling defeated, Hermione laughed humorlessly as she placed her elbows on the counter and buried her head into her hands.

Chapter Text

Wringing her hands, Hermione watched on in tense silence as her boss closed the door to her small office, skirted around her desk, and sat down behind it with a sigh. Maureen took her time before speaking, all the while silently scanning Hermione's face.

Feeling scrutinised, Hermione lifted her hand to flatten her unruly curls, but let it fall back into her lap when Maureen finally spoke.

"I don't think I have to explain to you why I called you into my office this morning," Maureen began, sounding weary.

Hermione drew in a deep breath before speaking. "Last week, Snape told us both that he no longer wants to work with me."

Maureen nodded in confirmation. "He offered me an explanation, but I'd like to hear your side of the story, too."

Hermione summarised what had happened over the course of last week. "I offered my apologies to Snape this Friday, but he didn't seem too impressed." She winced. 'Understatement of the century,' she thought bitterly. Hermione's back still hurt from the powerful Knockback Jinx he had hit her with. She rubbed the sore spot absentmindedly.

"Well, it's good to hear that you've apologised," Maureen interrupted Hermione's impromptu pity party for one. "As no real damage was done, I'll consider this issue adequately dealt with. Severus is helping out at another dig currently. Tarik told me that your current assignment will only take about one more week to wrap up, so I've asked him to take over from you and he's agreed." Under her breath, Maureen muttered something along the lines of 'what the chances were that Hermione of all people would stumble upon a child's grave'. She tutted before continuing. "I have one more assignment for you. You'll probably need Severus' help eventually, but not for the first part. It'll give you both a chance to cool down and think on how you're going to put your differences aside." Her tone of voice booked no room for argument. "Once that's over and done with," she went on, "I'd like your help on the team Severus is currently a part of. You'll receive more details on that project during the upcoming team meeting." Maureen's eyes flashed in excitement. "I won't spoil the fun, but I think you're going to love it. We'll be in need of your expertise over there."

Feeling intrigued, as well as surprised at the lack of reprimand, Hermione hastily agreed. Although working alongside the grumpy wizard would be challenging for sure, Hermione knew she had gotten off easy.

Maureen cleared her throat, causing Hermione to look up in question. Judging by the frown her boss was wearing, Hermione figured this wasn't the only reason Maureen had wanted to speak with her. Sure enough, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed.

"I'd like to discuss another matter with you."

Hermione nodded carefully.

Maureen shifted in her seat. "First off, how is your godson doing?" She asked kindly. Her facial expression told Hermione that she was well aware of the severity of the situation.

Hermione relayed the update Harry had given her last Friday.

She shook her head in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that," Maureen told her earnestly. She seemed to hesitate, which put Hermione further on edge, as Maureen rarely wavered. "You must be going through a difficult time. I also couldn't help but notice that the-" She paused to search for the right words.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the witch opposite her. Wherever the conversation was heading, she knew she wasn't going to like it.

"I couldn't help but notice that the 1st of November is coming up," Maureen finally said, shooting Hermione a look of compassion. In favour of continuing on verbally, she gestured in a way that said 'you know what I'm referring to'.

Hermione stilled. "Why are you bringing this up?" She didn't quite manage to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"I'm sorry Hermione, it's certainly not for the purpose of upsetting you. That being said, I really feel the need to. Your mood changes around this time of year and if it hadn't been affecting your work, I never would've mentioned it. You can't tell me that you yourself haven't noticed your behaviour's become more erratic lately." As if to make her point, her eyes flitted to Hermione's now balled fists, clenched jaw, and flushed cheeks. "Your mood has also shifted; you're much easier to anger."

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She forced herself to unclench her fists and suddenly felt her body deflate. Her fury was instantly replaced by shame and she quickly averted her eyes, as she found she could no longer bear to face the witch opposite her. Hermione felt her chin wobble, but managed to keep tears from falling. After a moment of silence, she could hear the rustling of clothes, before she more felt than saw Maureen halt next to her. She lay a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder and placed the other on the back of her chair.

"I can't even begin to imagine how hard it's been," Maureen said in a soft voice. As Hermione didn't say anything, she continued on. "Your reaction is completely natural, but I worry that you still haven't allowed yourself to properly process what has happened."

Hermione's eyes were still fixed on her lap. She really didn't want to be discussing this with Maureen, but deep down, she knew that her boss had a point.

As if sensing Hermione's thoughts, Maureen squeezed her shoulder once, before taking her seat behind the desk again. "I want you to take as much time as you need to deal with this. As I said, Tarik can finish up your work on the child's tomb. I'll leave it up to you to decide if you want to continue working this week or if you're taking it off preemptively. As for next week… I understand that something like this isn't dealt with in a week's time. I also realise that your godson's illness is an ongoing source of pain. Just know that I'll keep taking that into account as you continue your work with us. I do, however, expect you to be taking some kind of action during your time off. Be that through consulting a mind healer, spending time with friends and family, whatever you can come up with."

Hermione finally lifted her head and nodded once. Maureen wore a serious expression. It underlined her message perfectly: Your career is in danger if you don't start working on the issues that are affecting your job performance.

Maureen rose from her seat and Hermione mirrored her. She felt numb as she opened the door and stepped out into the familiar big open space that was the tent the NAWS usually worked from. They headed towards the small group of people that was already ambling around the chairs that had been arranged in a half-circle in preparation of the upcoming meeting. Most of Hermione's colleagues smiled at her when they saw her approach. Some, however, frowned disapprovingly. There was only one amongst them who scowled at her openly; Snape's black eyes immediately bore into hers, causing Hermione to stumble as she distractedly sat down in one of the chairs. Maureen's rebuke and her lingering feelings of shame urged Hermione to look away, but she willed herself not to. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly and, refusing to be intimidated, returned his icy stare.

Snape was forced to look away when one of their co-workers sat down next to him and engaged him in conversation. Hermione watched on as he adopted a familiar bored expression and replied curtly. She felt her annoyance waver and swayed slightly. It was almost jarring; his mannerisms hadn't changed. At all. Back at Hogwarts, whenever Hermione had looked up at the High Table, she had seen him converse in this manner a hundred times. Instead of enduring one of her fellow British wizarding archaeologists prattling however, like he was right now, he would've been listening to Dumbledore, bantering with McGonagall, or glaring at that year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

As if sensing Hermione's inner turmoil, Snape's inquiring eyes found hers again. Hermione did avert her gaze this time and felt very thankful when Tarik chose that moment to plop down in the empty seat next to hers. He immediately pushed a mug of tea into her hands and she gratefully wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic. Chewing on her bottom lip, she started nodding in absentminded understanding as Tarik started ranting about some new regulation the NAWS was trying to enforce.

After a couple of minutes Maureen cleared her throat and everyone fell silent as the meeting kicked off. She magically dimmed the lights, pulled down a projector screen, and tapped her wand on the projector that was often used during meetings. Its internal light flickered on and they watched on curiously as the first slide slid into place with a soft click.

Hermione had once asked why the NAWS made use of so much Muggle technology. Maureen had shrugged. A tech-savvy Muggle-Born wizarding archaeologist had introduced them to it. When he retired, they had stuck with the habit. Muggle technology was convenient, durable when magically adapted, and also helped them blend in with their fellow Muggle archaeologists. Although Hermione wasn't completely sure the latter was working out all that well for them. Once, she had seen a Muggle archaeologist curiously looking at Tarik when he had been waving a Heka Meter in Hermione's face. After all, original Game Boys had been out of fashion for over a decade.

Shifting her attention back to the presentation, Hermione couldn't suppress a small smile as she watched Maureen show them several photographs of an ancient Egyptian wizarding village the NAWS had discovered in Upper Egypt a couple of years ago. It had been dubbed Per-Amu and classed as one of the NAWS's greatest archaeological breakthroughs to date. The discoveries made there had provided valuable insight into the lives of ancient wizarding Egyptians. The village had been uncovered while Hermione was attending her second year at Cambridge University. She remembered spending the days following Per-Amu's discovery gathering up all the information that she could get her hands on. During her summer holidays, she had even reached out to the NAWS and asked if she could visit the archaeological site. The village of Per-Amu had been one of the main reasons Hermione had become very eager to work for the NAWS.

She glanced at Tarik, who was also smiling. Their shared love for Per-Amu is what had brought them closer during those first few months of working for the Society. Hermione turned her attention back to the slideshow when Maureen made the next slide appear. It was the image of a stretch of desert, sprawled out in front of a large rock face.

"I don't think I need to tell you all that what I'm about to share with you next is classified information," Maureen said, while she let her eyes travel over everyone in attendance.

Everyone nodded earnestly. Hermione knew every single person in the tent had bad experiences with common grave robbers, bad-intentioned Curse-Breakers, and dark wizards set on gaining knowledge about "useful" ancient magic.

Maureen nodded back. She made a new slide appear, which depicted the image of the ancient Egyptian deity of magic. "Now, we all know of the existence of the Temple of Knuhm, also known as the Temple of Esna. It was always believed that this was the only temple built to worship Heka. With our most recent discovery, this belief no longer holds up. Now, without further ado…" The people that hadn't been involved with this project yet watched on in tense anticipation as she tapped the projector with her wand to show the next slide. "The Temple of Per-Amu."

Hermione watched in awe, as the photograph of a temple she had never laid eyes upon was projected upon the projector screen. A murmur passed through those gathered. Hermione leaned forward. It was magnificent. Her eyes followed the processional path leading up to the temple's entrance. There, she was met with a structure that - due to its many columns - vaguely reminded her of the Temple of Hatshepsut's exterior. This temple showcased distinctive ancient Egyptian wizarding architecture though, similar to that which they had encountered in the accompanying village. The material with which its exterior was built was different to what Muggles had used for building their temples - Hermione guessed it to be a combination of limestone and granite. The temple's exterior was adorned with elaborate, colourful reliefs and images. Two big statues depicting Heka flanked its entrance. Hard to miss was the part of the temple that was carved into the rock wall that rose up behind it - Hermione made the educated guess that this was where the temple's sanctuary was located. "Merlin, that's magnificent," Hermione breathed.

"It is indeed," Maureen agreed with a smile. "This is the first time we've discovered a temple built by ancient Egyptian wizards. It was right under our noses, buried beneath the sand, and hidden within this rock face. It was also heavily guarded by plenty Muggle-Repelling and Notice-me-Not Charms, as well as intricate layers of nasty curses. We still haven't been able to enter the temple due to this, although Severus has made good progress in dismantling them so far. A true trial by fiendfire for our new Curse-Breaker, so to speak." She nodded at Snape in appreciation, who nodded back curtly. "Let's just say that those ancient wizards knew what they were doing."

Hermione's mind was racing. If all of these charms and curses were still in-tact, that meant- Hermione sat up straighter and turned to Tarik, who's brown eyes were twinkling as he came to the same conclusion. The temple had remained untouched for centuries.

"This could be big," Maureen admitted. "Still, while we're working on gaining access to the temple, I'm hesitant to draw hasty conclusions. I want the rest of you to focus on your own work for the time being. I'll keep you posted."

With that, the meeting was dismissed. Excited chatter broke out and Hermione quickly turned to Tarik to share her enthusiasm.

"I just can't believe we can't enter yet," Tarik groaned while he slumped in his seat.

Hermione hummed in agreement. "Still, if the inside is as impressive as the outside appears, we'll have years to catalogue every square inch," Hermione reassured him while she patted his hand.

They chatted for a while longer, sharing their theories, and what they hoped to encounter. Eventually, Hermione was pulled aside by Maureen and handed the familiar manilla folder containing her new assignment.

Maureen opened up the folder and showed Hermione the photographs. "Fairly standard job. Readings are typical for a small dig site."

After talking things through with her boss, Hermione waved goodbye to Tarik and made her way over to the Apparition point. As always, she studied the contents of the folder thoroughly before Disapparating with a small pop.

As soon as she landed, she immediately Apparated again. Due to its distance, this trip required two Apparitions. Just like she'd intended to, Hermione landed close to the palm tree that was photographed by her colleague. Panting from the exertion, Hermione quickly shielded her eyes from the sudden bright sunlight that was now beaming down on her. Still squinting, she turned on the spot, scrutinising her surroundings. Deeming it safe, Hermione got to work on casting protective spells.

She was halfway through her second incantation when two unmistakable cracks of Apparition made her whirl around. Before her stood two - what she assumed were Egyptian - wizards. Most of both their faces was hidden behind a white cloth, which they had wrapped around their heads. Hermione inhaled sharply when she noticed both were holding wands, which were trained on her. Heart rate steadily climbing, Hermione immediately sank into a fighting position and simultaneously pointed her wand at them, alternating between aiming it at the left and the right stranger.

"Who are you?" She asked them slowly.

Both men didn't respond. They simply took a step forward, causing Hermione to back up.

Her mind was racing. Due to their close proximity, Apparition would be impossible without being hit by a spell. She couldn't conjure a Patronus either, as they would immediately stun her if she so much as tried to cast the spell. Running was out of the question, as the desert plains transformed hitting her into child's play. Because Hermione had just scanned her surroundings, she also knew shouting for help would be of no use. Bargaining was a safe option, but would probably be useless as they hadn't responded to her first question. Casting a spell at one of them and quickly rolling out of the way was reckless, but could function as a last minute resort.

One of them suddenly stepped closer, causing Hermione to panic. "What do you want?" She blurted out, mentally cursing her shaking wand hand.

The one that tried approaching halted. He cocked his head. "Device. We want device." He spoke with a heavy foreign accent.

Hermione immediately knew they were alluding to the Heka Meter that was currently safely stored in the bag slung across her shoulder. "Alright, I can give you the device," she said slowly. "It's in my bag." She gestured towards said bag.

The man held out his hand. "Give bag," he demanded.

Without lowering her wand, Hermione slowly lifted the strap of the bag off her shoulder and manoeuvred it over her head. Taking a shallow breath in, she held it out to the wizard in front of her. "Take it."

The man cautiously took one more step forward and slowly stretched his hand out.

Hermione felt her arm start to shake under the weight of the bag she was still holding in her outstretched hand. 'This is taking too long,' she thought anxiously, as her eyes flitted from the man closest to her to the man that was coming up behind him. "Just take the bloody bag," she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Finally, the wizard's hand closed around the strap. Then, everything seemed to play out in slow motion. Not even having let go of the bag yet, the man in the background raised his wand and started shouting a spell. Seeing red light gleaming on the tip of his wand, Hermione instinctively threw herself forward. She wrapped her arms around the wizard closest to her, making sure she used all her weight to bring him down to the ground with her. His wand tip was pointing painfully into her chest, but the pain relented when she heard its wood splinter as they hit the sand with a heavy thud. The spell her attacker had cast flew over their heads. As soon as Hermione hit the ground, she lifted her wand while simultaneously shouting, "Stupify!" She was barely able to register her spell hitting its target as the man underneath her came to his senses and wrapped his fist around her wand and started yanking it down forcefully. "Let go!" Hermione yelled shrilly, but the man didn't relent and easily flipped her over, causing sand to fly everywhere.

Hermione, now laying on her back, immediately tried to wriggle from underneath him. Realising it was useless as the man was using his full body weight to hold her down, she looked around fearfully. He wrapped his other hand around hers and tried to pry the wand from her fingers. Not relenting, Hermione's left hand scrabbled in the sand and found purchase on her now opened bag. Her hand quickly found its way inside and luckily closed around the plastic casing of the Heka Meter. In the meantime, the wizard on top of her had the brilliant idea of bringing his teeth down on her other hand. Just as Hermione was able to press - what she hoped was the on and off button - three times, the wizard sank his teeth into her wand hand. She roared in pain and was forced to let go of her wand.

Shouting triumphantly, the man pulled the wand from her grip and quickly crawled off her. Adopting a kneeling position, he pointed the wand at Hermione.

"Finally," he spat.

Hermione tried to sit up, but was hindered from doing so by the man pressing the tip of her wand into her chest. Without breaking eye contact, he used his other hand to pull the abandoned bag towards himself and started rummaging around.

In the meantime, Hermione drew her injured hand to her chest and cradled it with the other. It had started throbbing painfully. She quickly glanced down and was met by the sight of blood mix with sand slowly trickling out of the puncture wounds where her attacker's teeth had broken through her skin. Suddenly feeling dizzied by the sight, Hermione lowered her head and allowed herself to look up at the clear blue sky for a moment. She tried to control her rapid breathing but discovered it was a hard task to focus on when her assailant was still looming over her.

He suddenly thrust the Heka Meter into her face. "Device?" He asked her.

Hermione felt her eyes widen with panic. The Unbreakable Vow she had taken barred her from disclosing that information. Answering his question would result in her own imminent death.

When she didn't respond, the wizard narrowed his eyes at her. He was clearly losing his patience. "Speak!" Hermione was sure he was about to curse her when the air began to stir. They both looked up; Hermione hopefully, the wizard fearfully, as the witnessed Severus Snape Apparating into sight. He immediately trained his wand on the man and before the latter could so much as blink, Snape had stunned him. Hermione was just able to roll out of the way as the man landed face first into the sand.

Snape scanned their surroundings in calculation, making sure to check that the second wizard was also unconscious, before casting Incarcerous on both of them.

In the meantime, Hermione gingerly sat up, still cradling her painful hand. She gasped for air as she realised how close she had been to death - or worse - and how lucky she had been that the emergency feature of the Heka Meter was still working. Her breathing was quickening rapidly, so she barely registered Snape kneeling down next to her, pulling her hand away from her chest and inspecting the wound.

"Is this… Did he bite you?" Snape asked her incredulously.

Hermione could only nod, as her breathing was quickly getting out of control. She was now gulping down the dry desert air at a rapid pace and helplessly searched out his eyes. She felt herself getting increasingly lightheaded.

Snape placed both his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "Breathe, Miss Granger."

"I'm- trying- to-" Hermione managed to bring out between gasps.

"In through your nose- through your nose, Miss Granger! Yes, like that. Then hold it for five seconds. Exactly like that. Now, slowly breathe out through your mouth." He didn't stop guiding her until her breathing had returned back to normal.

Feeling exhaustion wash over her, Hermione suddenly slumped forward. Luckily, Snape was still there and gently held her up by pushing back on her shoulders. She allowed her eyelids to drift closed for just a second, before they flew back open as she realised where they were. "It was a trap!" She exclaimed. "They were expecting me, Apparated in almost as soon as I had." Hermione's eyes searched Snape's, silently willing him to understand. "How is that possible?"

Snape's expression turned pensive as he took in the scene around them. "My guess is they planted an item somewhere around here that would set off the Meter. Then they cast a silent Caterwauling Charm, which would notify them when someone would trip it."

"But why wasn't it tripped when the previous person was scoping out this site?"

Snape only shrugged and shifted his attention to the still bleeding wound on her hand instead. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and pointing his wand at it, transfigured the cloth square into a bandage, which he began winding around Hermione's hand. "If I close the wound now, we risk trapping bacteria inside of the wound. We need to clean it thoroughly first," he explained when noticing Hermione's questioning look.

She nodded in understanding. While she watched Snape meticulously bandaging her hand, she wondered about the extent of Snape's knowledge on healing magic. She did recall Harry telling her how Snape had been able to heal Malfoy after Harry had cast Sectumsempra on him, but she had always figured that this was because Sectumsempra was a curse of Snape's own invention. It seemed logical to Hermione that he would be able to perform the counter-curse well enough to be effective.

Once Snape had secured the bandage with a Sticking Charm, he slowly rose, but not before making sure Hermione wouldn't fall over as soon as he let her go. He shifted his hands down and stopped to cup both her elbows. He kept her steady as she clumsily crawled off the ground and rose up onto unsteady feet. After making sure she could stand on her own, he finally let her go, but remained close just in case. Unexpectedly, Hermione found comfort in his closeness. His earlier quick acting made her realise that he would keep her safe as long as she remained in close proximity to him.

"I think we should get out of here, before more of them will come looking," Hermione said anxiously.

Snape narrowed his eyes while he was still taking in their surroundings, then nodded in agreement. He walked around her and picked up her bag, wand, as well as the Heka Meter that lay forgotten in the sand. He flung the bag over his shoulder, handed Hermione her wand back, and then made his way over to both unconscious wizards. After making sure they were still knocked out and tied up securely, he trudged back over to Hermione. "Can you Apparate by yourself?" He asked her, while watching her appraisingly.

Hermione, who was still feeling woozy and unsteady on her feet, as well as distracted by her painfully throbbing hand, slowly shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll splinch myself," she admitted.

"Very well," Snape decidedly said as he moved closer again. Closing his hand around her exposed forearm, he silently Apparated them somewhere safe.

Chapter Text

They landed in a room almost identical to Hermione's. There were a couple of differences she immediately noticed, though. For one, Snape's desk looked much less cluttered than Hermione's own. In general, Snape's room seemed much better organised. She also spotted the moderately sized brewing station he had set up next to the window. He didn't keep his curtains drawn closed, which Hermione had kind of expected. Although, living in complete darkness did seem rather inconvenient. She let her gaze roam and her eyes settle upon his bookcase. It was filled to the brim with interesting looking books and tomes. Hermione had the urge to step forward and take a closer look, but resisted. The amount of books he kept here must be about the same-

"Are you done gawping?" Snape asked her irritably. He walked towards his desk and pulled out the chair. "Sit."

Feeling her cheeks grow hot, Hermione quickly did what she was told. She watched as Snape crossed the room and started rifling through a cabinet, which was shoved up against the wall next to the door. By the sound of glass clinking, she assumed he was gathering up potions to treat her wound. Why he hadn't just brought her to the nearest hospital she didn't know. He finally righted himself and as Hermione had expected, approached holding several potion bottles. He arranged them on his desk before summoning over a comfortable looking reading chair and sitting down on the edge of its seat.

"Pain potion," he only said, while picking up the first bottle and handing it to Hermione.

Snape's scolding fresh on her mind, Hermione quickly uncorked the bottle and downed its contents. She tried not to grimace when its medicinal taste hit the back of her throat. She did, however, immediately notice the pain in her bite wound reduce to a dull throbbing.

"Calming Draught," he only said as he handed her the next one.

Hermione hesitated. "I don't think-"

"I think you do, Miss Granger. The wound has to be cleaned properly. It is a painful process and it won't do for you to panic."

"I won't panic!" She exclaimed indignantly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself," he said, while exchanging the potion for his wand.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that he left the bottle within arm's reach.

Snape got rid of the bandage with a silent Vanishing Spell and pulled his desk lamp closer to examine the wound properly. He lit it with a touch of his wand, before carefully picking up Hermione's hand. He rotated it this way and that to examine the injury under the bright light.

Hermione gulped. The wound had mostly stopped bleeding, at least there was that. The edges around the puncture marks, however, were already beginning to swell and the skin surrounding the wounds had adopted an angry red colour. Snape let go of her hand again. Hermione watched on nervously as he summoned a clean towel and draped it across her lap. He lifted his wand to point its tip at the wound. She winced before he could even open his mouth to say the incantation.

Snape halted and glanced up. "Are you sure, Miss Granger, that you won't require the Calming Draught?" Snape drawled.

In the end, Hermione's fear won from her stubbornness. To avoid Snape's infuriating self-satisfied smirk, she downed the potion with her eyes pointed to the ceiling. As soon as she set down the empty bottle, a wave of calm washed over her. She slumped back in the desk chair and closed her eyes for a second. She couldn't help but notice that she hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. She suddenly understood how some people got addicted to the stuff. Hermione slowly opened her eyes back up when Snape began to work on extracting the bacteria from her wound. It was not like the pain was completely gone, but her tranquil state allowed her to almost detach herself from the unpleasant sensation.

Hermione suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to complain. "I can't believe that bastard bit me," Hermione said with a sigh. "I guess it was either that, or him having to chop my hand off. I would never voluntarily hand over my wand without putting up a fight." She shuddered at the thought.

Snape didn't say anything as he continued to work on cleaning her wound.

Feeling strangely talkative but not in the mood to question it, Hermione continued on, "I mean, those men attacked me out of nowhere and outnumbered me two to one. I was just thinking my options through when-" She suddenly gasped. "You know? I was almost sorted into Slytherin!"

"Were you now," Snape replied in a bored tone of voice.

"Hermione nodded, the movement making the room bob up and down. She thought it looked funny and let out a small laugh. "I've never told anyone this before," she said conspiratorially as she bent forward, "but the hat actually gave me a choice. It was contemplating putting me in either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, when all of a sudden, it piped up and said that I could also do well in Slytherin." She giggled. "Could you imagine? A Muggle-Born in Slytherin house. They would've eaten me alive over there."

"Indeed," Snape drawled.

Hermione regarded Snape in contemplation and then suddenly sat back upright, causing Snape to curse.

"Sit. Still!" He halted what he was doing to regard her angrily.

"Right, sorry," Hermione mumbled guiltily. She glanced around the room. "It's just, I realised something just now. You hexed me out of your room the other day and now you've brought me here voluntarily." She cocked her head. "Is it because you're no longer cross with me?"

Snape set his wand down on the desk and began messaging his temples. "Clearly, I've underestimated the effect the Calming Draught would have on you." He frowned at the empty bottle. "Had I know, I would've halved the dose."

Hermione slowly nodded in agreement. She did feel a bit woozy. "Oh, are you done?" She asked hopefully when Snape didn't move. While she was certainly feeling better equipped to handle the pain, she would still much rather lie down for a bit to properly enjoy her tranquil state of being.

"No," Snape answered, while he picked up a tub with unidentifiable contents. He started slathering the wound in white salve. The burn it caused made Hermione wince.

Silence filled the room. "It's okay if you're still cross with me…" Hermione slowly started saying while she shifted around in her seat in an attempt to deal with the pain. "I tried my best, putting everything to rights and stuff. I even made Harry swear not to tell anyone else. Sadly, I can't just turn back the clock." An unexpected wave of sorrow crashed into her and she started blinking furiously to deal with her suddenly tearful eyes. "I often wish I could, though." She confessed with a small voice.

Hermione looked up when she felt Snape's ministrations grind to a halt. He didn't say anything, however, and his eyes remained transfixed on her hand.

"Are you still cross with me?" She asked again, her voice still sounding small. She just had to know.

"I am," Snape finally said. The fact that his voice seemed to lack conviction bypassed Hermione entirely.

Hermione hung her head in defeat. She didn't know what else she could do to fix the situation.

Silence filled the room, while Snape finished up his work. He eventually put the tub of salve down with a heavy thud, accompanied by a loud sigh. "Fine. You've been punished enough. I guess." It looked like it physically pained him to say it.

Hermione perked up. "Really?"

Snape didn't respond, but Hermione had heard enough. She watched on in quiet contemplation as Snape started muttering an incantation while tracing the wound with the tip of his wand. As the skin surrounding the puncture marks slowly started knitting together, the dull throbbing in her hand finally abated. She sighed in relief. "Thank you."

Snape only nodded, before rising and gathering up all of the supplies to put them away.

Feeling weary from the stress, Hermione allowed her eyes to drift closed. She gasped when she was shaken awake by Snape.

"If you want to sleep, do it in your own room," he told her curtly. He crossed his arms while he impatiently waited for Hermione to regain her senses. He did make sure she was escorted safely back to her room, though. Only after he had made sure Hermione wouldn't tumble out of bed did he leave, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Still facing the door, Snape stood in quiet contemplation as he stared for several minutes at the woodgrain pattern. When he was finally able to snap out of it, he turned on his heel and legged down the hallway, disappearing from sight in a matter of seconds.

"She got ambushed?" Mrs. Harding asked Severus incredulously.

He nodded.

She sank down in her desk chair and buried her head in her hands. "That girl has the worst luck," she muttered to herself. She fell silent while she tried to process the new information and decide on the best course of action.

Severus had no problem waiting. He simply sat back, folded his hands across his stomach, and allowed his mind to wander.

On his first day, Mrs. Harding had informed him that Curse-Breakers bore the responsibility of responding to emergency calls. Naturally, he had taken the necessary precautions to respond swiftly if needed. He just hadn't expected that his help would be required quite so soon. What he also hadn't anticipated, was for him to be on the receiving end of Miss Granger's emergency signal. Severus shook his head. He still couldn't comprehend why the NAWS allowed their archaeologists to venture out on their own like that. As Miss Granger had just proven, help was hard to come by when one got stranded in the middle of the desert.

He glowered at his knees. Most held on to the foolish belief that dealing with life-threatening danger was a natural part of being a witch or wizard. They could wield magic after all. Severus' head spun as he tried to recall the sheer amount of arguments he would have with Albus over this widespread notion. Hogwarts and its grounds was teaming with dangers great and small and Merlin knew those teenagers certainly weren't equipped to deal with them. He had lost count of the amount of times his Slytherin students had gotten injured due to simply traversing the halls of Hogwarts or while partaking in a simple Quidditch game. Still, every time Severus had brought it up with the Headmaster, he had simply assured him that it was a necessary part of growing up at Hogwarts. Their students had to learn to deal with such dangers early on and that was that. Severus often wondered if Albus' strong conviction was due to the sheer amount of inadequate Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers that had graced Hogwarts' halls. Students simply didn't stand a chance.

"Did you say you healed her yourself?" Mrs. Harding finally asked.

"I did."

Mrs. Harding regarded him with confusion. "Why not bring her to hospital? I thought you were still angry with her?"

"To answer your first question: The Egyptian wizarding hospitals that I've visited so far are… sub-par." 'To put it mildly,' he added mentally, trying to keep the sneer out of his voice. He failed spectacularly. "They are severely understaffed and stock an abysmal number of low grade potions, not to speak of their healers' gross lack of knowledge." Severus drew in a breath. "Egyptian witches and wizards are simply too accustomed to dealing with most injuries on their own. It is too ingrained into their culture. As for your second question: I guess I still am, but that does not excuse leaving Miss Granger without proper medical aid. Besides, you clearly stated we should try and put our differences aside. Consider this as me, doing just that."

Severus didn't think it would be a good idea to mention the fact that he had accidentally dosed Miss Granger with his most potent Calming Draught. It was the one he had sporadically taken back in his Death Eater days, whenever he had come back from particularly gruesome revels for example. He still liked to keep some of them on hand - just in case. Understanding had dawned when he had been clearing away the potion bottles. She had become somewhat delirious due to his negligence, asking him three time if he was several times if he was still cross with her. He had eventually told her he that wasn't. He didn't quite know if that was true, per se, but it did somewhat help assuage the guilt he had been feeling. Besides, he figured she had been through enough. He wasn't just referring to today either, as Severus was keenly aware of the horrors his fellow Death Eaters had put Miss Granger through during the Second Wizarding War.

"I'm glad to hear that," Mrs. Harding told him with a small smile.

"If that is all, Mrs. Harding," Severus said, as he felt himself growing bored with this conversation.

"Almost - and please, as I've told you before, call me Maureen."

Severus just stared at her blankly.

She sighed. "Try and keep an eye on Hermione. Mind you," she quickly added when Severus opened his mouth to protest, "not proactively, but just in passing. She's going through a difficult time and as you just told me you were working on putting your differences aside…"

Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "May I ask, which house were you sorted into?"

"I think you already know," Mrs. Harding said with a wink, before rising. "I'll see you at the Temple."

If Hermione would be asked to describe her day, 'mortifying' would be the most fitting descriptor.

That morning, she had woken up with the humiliating knowledge that - somehow - a bloody Calming Draught had caused her to become inebriated. If that wasn't bad enough, Snape, of all people, had borne witness to it. To top it off, Maureen had messaged her soon after. In her letter she explained that, due to the events of the previous day, it would be best if Hermione would take this week off too. It was clear that she booked no room for argument.

Right now, Hermione was lying in her bed and staring up at the ceiling while she wondered how she was going to spend the length of free time that suddenly stretched out before her. She had thus far: Tried reading, but had quickly found that she couldn't concentrate; yesterdays events were still at the forefront of her mind. She had then gone on to organise and clean her room, making quick work of it with the help of a few nifty spells. Next, she had gone grocery shopping at the Egyptian Marketplace, while stopping frequently to pet every cat that she came across on her way there. Lastly she had texted Harry, but he hadn't responded yet. Hermione checked her watch. It was only three in the afternoon. She turned onto her belly and groaned into her pillow.

Her head shot up when she heard her mobile buzz. Hastily pushing her curls out of her face, she scrambled off her bed to check.

'Come stay with us. Anytime. x Gin.'

Receiving a message from Ginny instead of Harry didn't surprise Hermione. He often handed his mobile phone over to Ginny, especially when he was away on Auror business. Eyes still glued to the screen, Hermione blindly felt around for the smooth wooden surface of her desk chair and slowly lowered herself down onto it. Fiddling with the charms attached to the phone, she read Ginny's words again.

Spending some time amongst friends sounded like just the thing Hermione needed. Temporarily trading Egypt's desert climate for the crisp cold of an English autumn sounded equally lovely. Two things made her hesitate taking Ginny up on her offer, though: Firstly, Hermione knew two weeks was an awfully long time and was afraid she would be burdening her friend by overstaying her welcome. Secondly, she was scared of the memories this trip might dig up.

Still in doubt, Hermione hesitantly selected Harry's number. Ginny picked up almost immediately.

"Had a feeling you would ring," Ginny answered the phone. Hermione could practically hear her grinning.

"Hi Ginny. About your text-"

"I'm 100% serious Hermione," Ginny unapologetically interrupted her, "we would love to have you over. Now that he's seen you again, James also keeps asking when his aunty 'Mione is going to visit. Besides, Harry doesn't mention it all that often, but I know he misses you - and I do too, by the way!"

Hermione felt herself start to smile. "I must admit that I miss you guys as well. It's just that I don't want to burden you unnecessarily. Two whole weeks of hosting me is an awfully long time…"

"It'll be fine, seriously. The house is easily big enough for the four of us and you do realise Kreacher picks up a lot of the slack, right? If it lessens your guilt, you can take James to the park from time to time or something. But only if you really want to. Pleeeease say yes, Hermione?"

"Alright," Hermione acquiesced. "If you're absolutely sure."

Ginny whooped. "Positive. When will you get here?"

After they had discussed practicalities and said their goodbyes, Hermione rose to unleash a Pack Charm on her belongings, quickly ducking out of the way when a passing book almost hit her in the head. While that was sorting itself out, Hermione pulled out parchment and quill and sat back down at her desk. She quickly scribbled a note to Snape, thanking him for his help and assuring him that she would drop by St Mungo's for a check-up. She felt her cheeks heat while doing so; she was still embarrassed about the unsual behaviour she had displayed the previous day.

Reading her note through one more time before spelling the ink dry, she folded it in half and put it in her pocket. She walked downstairs to deposit the note in Snape's postbox, before heading back up to her room and Apparating to the Ministry of Magic.

Softened by Time’s consummate plush,

How sleek the woe appears

That threatened childhood’s citadel

And undermined the years!

 

Bisected now by bleaker griefs,

We envy the despair

That devastated childhood’s realm,

So easy to repair

It had been almost a week since Hermione had come to stay with Harry and Ginny. Hermione hadn't realised it before, but she had sorely been in need of the change of pace and scenery. Being away from home made her forget how much she missed being surrounded by the people she grew up with.

Half-way through the week, she suddenly understood why this was the case. It was because didn't have to explain much to them - they just knew.

They knew what it had been like, being a student at Hogwarts while Voldemort was gaining power. They too knew, that they had all been far too young, when forced to fight for their lives.

They had been there afterwards, as well, when the cost of war had been so crudely presented to them.

It was why Hermione, in turn, knew exactly what Harry was going through, as she watched him kneel in front of his parents' grave. His head bowed in silent grief - his shoulders rounded like the weight of the world was resting upon them. It was how she knew when it was time to wordlessly take James from Ginny and fade into the background.

As it turned out, it was also why Harry knew to slip into her bedroom the following morning, softly asking her if she was awake.

"I am," she croaked out from underneath the pile of blankets she had stacked on top of herself. She actually had been awake for hours already, but Harry didn't need to know that.

"Have you given any further thought to what you want to do today?" Harry asked her, while he gently sat down on the edge of her bed.

"No," she admitted with a sigh. "I don't know." It was the truth. Usually, she treated November 1st like any other day. This year however, Hermione knew it would have to go differently.

"I might have some ideas," Harry carefully offered.

Normally, Hermione hated handing over the reins. This morning was different however; she mostly felt numb. That's why she found herself nodding in agreement.

"Good," was all Harry said before rising. "Breakfast is served downstairs. Don't be too long." With a pat on the blankets, he left.

It took great effort, but Hermione eventually managed to crawl out of her nest of blankets. She silently thanked Merlin for magic, as it effortlessly helped her get cleaned and dressed. After descending the stairs while barely watching where she was going, she stumbled into the kitchen and slumped into the nearest chair in sight. A mumbled good morning was all she offered.

Once seated, she immediately realised she felt famished and attacked her breakfast with vigour. After she swallowed her first bite though, her stomach suddenly twisted nastily. Regretfully, she pushed her plate away. The rest of breakfast was spent staring down at the table they were seated at, while she waited in empty silence for everyone to finish eating.

She startled badly when Harry suddenly touched her shoulder.

"Hermione? Are you finished eating?" He asked while eyeing the food she had barely touched.

"I'm not feeling very hungry," she admitted.

Harry frowned slightly, but decided to let it go.

For some reason, Hermione's inner flame was rekindled when they were preparing to head out. She was just about to pull on her knitted mittens, but halted. "Wait, where are we going?"

Not in a hurry to answer the anxious Hermione right away, Ginny finished buttoning James' coat. "We're dropping James off with my mum first," she said, while taking James' hat from Kreacher's outstretched hand.

"Okay…" Hermione thought that visiting the Burrow might be nice. "But what about afterwards?" She suddenly whirled around to face Harry, who was futily trying to sort out his messy hair. "And why aren't you both at work?"

Harry met her eyes through the mirror he was using. "We've both taken the day off," he explained patiently.

Hermione felt her stomach twist in guilt. "Oh no, you shouldn't have done that. Not on my account."

Harry gave up on flattening his hair and turned around to properly face her. He looked at her sternly. "None of that nonsense. We want to offer you our support." He paused. His expression softened when he registered Hermione's knitted brows and fiddling hands. "Consider this as us, doing just that."

Hermione gave a small nod and that was that.

Soon after, they arrived at the Burrow. When they entered, Mrs. Weasley immediately corralled them into the kitchen and pulled Hermione into a hug as soon as she laid eyes on her.

Hermione allowed herself to melt into the embrace for a second. She closed her eyes and felt some of the tension ease that had been building ever since she was awake. Hermione opened her eyes again and pulled back slightly. "It's good to see you, Mrs. Weasley,"Hermione told her earnestly. She made the effort of smiling, although it felt a tad forced.

"Oh don't be silly dear, call me Molly." She held Hermione at arms length and let her concerned gaze travel over her. She tutted and shook her head as she took in Hermione's tired eyes, pale complexion, and limp curls. She finally patted Hermione's cheek with a sad smile, before turning around to greet the remainder of her guests.

Molly insisted on them staying over for tea. While feeling hesitant at first, in the end, Hermione felt glad Molly had managed to convince her. She was pleasantly surprised when the citrusy taste of the earl grey actually helped settle her upset stomach a bit. Molly had also lit a small fire and the heat it gave off warmed the left side of Hermione's body and face nicely. She didn't contribute much to the conversation. Instead, she allowed herself to sit back and bask in the Burrow's comfortingly familiar sights, smells, and sounds.

Hermione had spent many a holiday here. Although it had been a few years since she had visited last, not much seemed to have changed. The old radio next to the sink, for example, hadn't given up the ghost and was still cranking out tunes. Through the cracked-open door that led into the scullery, Hermione could just about make out a pair of wizarding robes being magically fed through the old mangle that Molly still seemed to prefer. The house was quieter though, now that all of the Weasley children had moved out.

Her roaming eyes settled upon the Weasley's owl's perch - Errol had unfortunately passed away quite some time ago. In his place sat a dozing tawny owl. It reminded her of the summer before sixth year, when she, Harry, and Ron were sat in this kitchen too, anxiously awaiting their O.W.L. results. She remembered leaping to her feet when three owls could be seen appearing on the horizon. Hermione shook her head as she recalled her pounding heart and shaking hands almost making it impossible to open her results.

Looking back, she couldn't believe actually feeling disappointed when she had "only" received an 'Exceeds Expectations' for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She gritted her teeth. Now she knew that none of that had mattered. At times, teenage Hermione had been so infuriatingly oblivious.

The bittersweet memory jolted her out of her semi-content state. Hermione sat upright, picked her tea cup back up, and downed the rest of its lukewarm contents. The china saucer rattled when she put her cup back down a bit too aggressively. She looked down at her clenched fists, which were laying uselessly in her lap.

Sensing it was time to leave, Harry swiftly rose and thanked Molly for her hospitality. After saying quick goodbyes and assuring a tearful James that they would be back soon, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny headed out again. They gathered in a small circle to discuss their next location.

Hermione glanced at her friends apprehensively. In her current mood, she wasn't sure if she was still willing to go along with whatever they had planned.

Harry and Ginny seemed to be communicating wordlessly before Ginny spoke.

"We don't want to spring this on you, so let us clarify where we were planning on Apparating to next."

As they explained, Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. Despite the cutting November wind, sweat started beading on her forehead. She shook her head. "No…" She tried to back away, but Harry prevented her from doing so by grabbing hold of both her shoulders.

"Hermione, please." He said while he held onto her firmly. "I know it seems impossible to face-"

Hermione continued shaking her head. Tears started escaping. "No! I can't. You know I can't," Hermione said in desperation. "It's too- It's too soon."

"We would never force you to do anything against your will-" Ginny started.

"Then don't! We can visit the cemetery," she bargained. "We can go put down flowers-"

"We can, we still can. But we just don't think it will benefit you as much," Harry said. He seemed to be struggling to keep his voice even.

Ginny gently pushed Harry out of the way and stepped forward. She grabbed hold of Hermione's hands. "It's time to face what's happened," Ginny added. Her voice sounded sure and steady.

Their eyes met. Ginny's were filled with understanding. Fierce determination crossed her face. She stepped even closer when she spotted Hermione wavering slightly.

"We'll remain by your side every step of the way. You're so strong, Hermione." Ginny's eyes were ablaze with strong conviction. "I believe in you. You can do this. We can do this."

Wiping at her tears, Hermione felt herself nod minutely.

As soon as she did, Ginny immediately grabbed hold of both Harry and Hermione and Apparated them away.

Keeping her eyes screwed closed, the first thing that hit Hermione was the strong smell of pine, coming of the large pinetree she knew so well. She had loved that smell as a child. Now, it made her want to gag. A tremble passed through her. She didn't dare open her eyes.

Ginny gently squeezed the hand she was still holding. "Open your eyes, Hermione."

It took all of Hermione's willpower, but she finally managed to do so. Keeping her head bowed, she blinked as the sight of hers and Ginny's intertwined hands appeared into view. She forced herself to inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth. The smell of fallen leaves intermingled with that of the pinetree. She shifted her weight anxiously.

"Good, keep breathing like that. Now, when you feel ready, try and look up," Ginny guided her.

Hermione's trembling worsened as she slowly complied. Stacked burnt orange bricks filled her view. She raised her head further. The peeling white paint of a window frame began breaking up the pattern. 'That paint hadn't been peeling six years ago,' Hermione thought vaguely. She couldn't peer into what she knew was the siting room as its curtains - her mum's curtains - were drawn closed. Hermione pivoted left, now facing towards the front door. It didn't look much different from what she remembered, expect for the great amount of unopened letters that were sticking out of its brass mail slot.

Hermione cocked her head. It felt strange, being met by the sight of her childhood home after so much time had passed.

Harry moved to stand beside her and followed her line of sight.

"It's like I never left, and yet," Hermione gestured towards the signs of time passing. She ran her shaking finger along her wet lashes. "I keep expecting for mum to appear in the window or for dad to come up the driveway." She blinked a couple of times as memories started to merge with reality. She realised that maybe Harry and Ginny had been right: Coming here could be a good thing. In her head, Hermione had built it up so much - the fear had spiralled out of control. This house didn't only represent the bad times, it also represented many of the good. Perhaps in time, the good could even outweigh the bad.

Hermione took a couple of steadying breaths before addressing her friends, "shall we head inside?"

Ginny beamed in pride as she started pulling Hermione along to the front door. When they got there, Hermione ran her hand over the worn brass doorknob. A detail she had forgotten. More tears escaped as she slowly lifted her wand and silently unlocked the door, signified by a soft click and the rattle of the door chain. She held her breath as she slowly turned the knob and gave a firm push. The door creaked open.

Hermione froze on the threshold when stale air, combined with the familiar smell of her childhood home hit her. When she still didn't move, Harry took hold of both her shoulders and gently steered her inside. Ginny closed the door behind them.

Hermione blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the dark hallway. She vaguely registered her trembling had worsened when Ginny took hold of her icy hands again and started rubbing some warmth into them. Hermione was about to meet Ginny's eyes and say something, when her attention was pulled towards two familiar unopened suitcases. Something inside her cracked at the sight. "No," she gasped. Hermione whirled around and tried to push past Harry, but the space simply was too small. Feeling her panic mounting, she turned on the spot again, her eyes darting to and fro in search of a way out. Her eyes couldn't help but land on her parents' suitcases again. It was like someone had put her heart in a vice.

Her legs suddenly gave out and she slid down the wall onto the floor. A sob escaped her. How had she thought she would be able to handle this? She drew in a shuddery breath, barely registering that Ginny and Harry kneeled down on either side. "No!" she cried out as another wave of pain hit her. Her brain seemed to be short-circuiting. She started pulling at her hair in desperation. This was her doing. This had been caused by her shortcoming. "I- I've failed them," she finally managed to bring out between heaving sobs. Admitting to it made it so much worse.

"None of this was your fault Hermione," Harry told her while rubbing her back.

She shook her head again. "It is," she whispered, while staring at the familiar floral wallpaper through a haze of tears. "It was my fault." Suddenly, the words seemed to rush out of her. "I- I botched the spell, or- or something triggered a buried memory. That is why they went back. Once they got here-" Her eyes darted to the left, towards the unpacked suitcases again. She choked up and discovered that she was unable to continue.

Only after the Battle of Hogwarts did someone from the DMLE sit her down and explain what had actually happened. It was one of the hardest conversations Hermione had ever held.

Hermione looked around the small Ministry office Mr. Dawlish had escorted her to. She really didn't have time for this - she still had to pack for her trip to Adelaide. She would be leaving as soon as possible. She told the Auror as much when he reentered his office and sat down behind the desk with a heavy sigh.

"I know Miss Granger, but this couldn't wait." He rubbed his face tiredly. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and was in desperate need of a shave.

Hermione froze as a sudden wave of presentiment washed over her. "What is this about?"

He seemed to have a hard time finding the right words. He was avoiding eye contact and nervously drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. He drew in a deep breath before finally speaking, "on the 1st of November-"

He didn't need to continue, as everything fell into place. Hermione immediately cut him off, "Are my parents still alive?" She asked with a shaky voice.

The ground fell from underneath her feet with the small shake of his head.

Her mum and dad had landed at Heathrow Airport on the 1st of November, 1998. Unsuspecting, they had driven back home. At around seven p.m. that day, Hermione had been alerted by the Catterwauling Charm she had placed on her parents' house, earlier that year. She knew it was not safe to go, but had hesitated briefly anyway. Harry had sat her down and reasoned with her. They came to the conclusion that these had to be Death Eaters, scoping out the house and setting of her charm in the process. Although Hermione had desperately wanted to go, in the end she and Harry had agreed that it was unwise for her to do so.

Mr. Dawlish explained to her what had really happened. Apparently Death Eaters had been scoping out her childhood home ever since Hermione, Harry, and Ron had gone into hiding. As soon as the dark wizards had seen her parents arrive, they forced their way inside and ambushed them. They had apparently taken hours to torture Hermione's parents for information, before finally putting them out of their misery.

Hermione had quickly realised that the Death Eaters probably knew her parents would never be able to provide them with much useful information. They could have simply used Legilimency and mercifully ended her parents' lives as soon as they had become useless to them. No, this had been about hunting, torturing, and killing Muggles for sport. To top it off, they had probably gained an extra amount of sick satisfaction from the knowledge that these Muggles happened to be Hermione's parents.

As for why the memory charm had failed? Mr. Dawlish wasn't certain. It might have been due to a lingering memory. Sometimes, all that was needed was a significant item that would remind them of the existence of their daughter. According to him, something like that could set a domino effect in motion - suppressed memories falling into place one after another.

Naturally, Hermione had immediately placed the blame for her parents' deaths upon herself. She hadn't been able to cope. The paralysing guilt she felt, the realisation that she would never see her parents again, dealing with the aftermath of the war… It had quickly become too much to handle. She remembered feeling overwhelmed with loss. The all-consuming pain too much for her to bear.

To somehow deal with the loss, she buried herself in work. It hadn't been a conscious decision at the time, but she soon realised it offered a distraction and helped dull her pain. She spent the remainder of that summer helping rebuild Hogwarts. This was quickly followed by an 'eighth year' during which she achieved her N.E.W.T.s. After graduating, Hermione hadn't been able to face returning home, so she had spontaneously gone travelling and discovered a love for ancient Egypt along the way. On a whim, she had applied for the Archaeology course at Cambridge University. She had somehow gotten in. She didn't sit idly by during her summer vacations either. They were spent attending Muggle and wizarding digs. The NAWS offered her a job right after graduating.

Pulled from her memories by her own chattering teeth, Hermione pleadingly looked up at her friends. "Can we go home now?"

They didn't hesitate as they Apparated her away.

Chapter Text

Although Hermione and the others had been briefed to arrive by 8:30 a.m., Hermione had purposefully gotten there an hour early. This way, she could thoroughly prepare for the day ahead and step into it with a fresh, clear mind. To further aid with that, she had brought some reading material, as well as her breakfast and a big thermos full of her favourite tea. She spread it out on her small desk and sat down with a pleased sigh. Hermione leaned back and contentedly surveyed the empty tent. Inside of her stomach, excited butterflies suddenly made their presence known. Today was the day she would get to see the Temple of Per-Amu with her own two eyes. It just also happened to be her first day back on the job.

The remainder of last week had been… challenging. Hermione hadn't left her room at Grimmauld Place for two whole days. She had cried a lot, and been angry a bunch, too. She did somewhat manage to get out on the other side, though. Right now, she still felt vulnerable, but lighter as well. She certainly wasn't there yet, but began to realise that Harry and Ginny, as well as Maureen, had been right - finally facing her parents' death had been a necessary evil.

After the onerous week she had, all Hermione longed for was to dive into a new project—and the Temple was the perfect opportunity for that.

She had just gotten stuck into her journal article and was about to take a sip from her tea, when a small pop disrupted the blessed silence. Suppressing a sigh, Hermione glanced up and was met with the sight of none other than their new Curse-Breaker. Snape seemed distracted by the newspaper he had brought, but looked up when Hermione tried to silently place her thermos back down.

He looked mildly surprised. "Miss Granger," he greeted her with a small nod, before settling down behind his own desk. Hermione hadn't noticed before that his desk was only two away from hers.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she recalled her strange behaviour the last time they had interacted. Shifting in her seat, she tried to concentrate on her journal article again, but soon discovered that she felt too on edge to continue. She glanced up at Snape, who was calmly turning the page of his newspaper. "I had the healers at St Mungo's take a look at my hand," Hermione blurted out. She awkwardly held it up in indication.

Snape slowly looked up. His dark eyes flickered towards the hand she had lifted into the air before returning to his newspaper. "As you've told me in your note."

Hermione lowered her hand. Her fingers twitched involuntarily. "They checked for any lasting damage, but fortunately, there was none."

"Hm."

"There's no scarring either. So thank you," she settled on. Hermione quickly picked her thermos back up and took a big gulp, immediately burning her tongue on its contents. She winced.

"You already did, twice," Snape said after a few moments.

"Hm?" Hermione asked, still distracted by the pain of her scalded tongue.

"Thank me." He still hadn't taken his attention off his paper.

"Did I? The Calming Draught you gave me didn't quite agree with me, and- well-" Hermione felt her cheeks redden as she recalled her blathering from a fortnight ago.

He took his time to reply this time, "It was a mistake on my part. I accidentally handed you the wrong potion," Snape's drawling voice interrupted Hermione's flustered thoughts. "It's a more potent variation of the common brew, based on alterations I've made myself." He paused. "Its side-effects include - amongst others - loss of coordination, drowsiness, and, in your case, disinhibition."

Hermione's head shot up. "You did what?"

Snape's eyes finally met hers. "You heard me the first time."

"But- how?"

"As I stated before, it was completely unintentional," Snape told her stoically. "At first, I thought I had measured out the wrong amount. I later realised, however, that overdosing on Calming Draught usually only results in loss of consciousness. Only after you left did I check the empty vial's label and realise my mistake. It was an oversight on my part. Your… ramblings should've been a clear indicator from the start." Hermione might have been mistaken, but she thought she could make out silent amusement lighting up his eyes.

Taken aback, Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but instead, a laugh escaped. Surprised by her own spontaneous reaction, she quickly closed her mouth to cut it off. As she turned away to distractedly unpack her sandwich, she felt a smile still playing on her lips.

It faded away as her confusion grew. Back at Hogwarts, Snape was well known for the grudges he could hold. After all, this was the same man that had hated on an eleven-year-old orphan just because of who his father was. Hermione frowned down at her uneaten breakfast. Why was the current Snape practically teasing her? Had he forgiven her past mistake that easily?

Still feeling puzzled, Hermione observed Snape from the corner of her eye. It seemed he was no longer paying her any attention. Instead, he was scowling at something he was reading in his paper. It just didn't add up; while yes, Hermione had only interacted with him in her capacity as a student, and true, she didn't know how he had behaved around his colleagues, she felt sure that she was missing something.

Hermione had just gathered up enough courage to inquire, when the sound of someone Apparating prevented her from doing so. She gave her fellow Wizarding Archaeologist a weak smile when she passed. Else - a blonde Dane in her early thirties who Hermione hadn't spoken much - muttered a brief good morning before heading straight for their cobbled together coffee station.

Soon after, others started arriving, robbing Hermione of the opportunity to further question Snape. Not in the mood to engage in any other conversation, Hermione quietly ate her breakfast and drank her tea. She noticed Snape didn't interact with any new arrivals either. He simply kept on reading his newspaper until it was time to go. Hermione followed Snape and joined the small circle that had formed around Maureen. She took in those gathered as Maureen started speaking.

Apart from Hermione herself there were Maureen and Snape of course, Else, and lastly Omar - a 52-year-old Cairene who had been working for the NAWS for quite some time. Hermione immediately wondered why Tarik hadn't been included in their little team. She knew he would be feeling sorely disappointed. Hermione shook her head to focus on what Maureen was saying.

"-able to finally enter the Temple now." She turned to address Hermione. "Hermione, out of all of us you have done the most research on heka, both in- and outside the ancient Egyptian wizarding community. Could you perhaps shed light on what we might encounter over there?"

Feeling a bit like this was sprung upon her, Hermione cleared her throat first, while glancing around the group. Most looked curious, except for Snape, whose facial expression was unreadable. "Well, as we only have Muggle temples to go off, I'll use those as a starting point. I think most gathered here will know their lay-outs by heart: We'll most likely encounter a courtyard of sorts first, which will lead to what Muggles refer to as one or two hypostyle halls, all of which laymen could visit back in the day. We shall see whether the use of magic has made the use of columns for roof support redundant. The photographs Maureen has shown us earlier makes me almost certain that the remainder of the temple has been built into the rock wall that was shown rising up behind it. I expect for the sanctuary to be carved within the rock. Keeping in mind that magic must've helped them carve out this space, I can only guess at its vastness." She carefully tucked a stray curl behind her ear before continuing, "as for the temple's contents… What people often get wrong about heka is that they assume the word is synonymous to magic. This is incorrect. Heka means activation of the 'ka'; the life energy that ancient Egyptians believed flowed through every living being and every God. Heka signifies the activation of this. The hieroglyph for both Heka the deity and the power itself is a twisted piece of flax with raised arms. This resembled snakes entwined. Nowadays, Muggles still associate entwined snakes with the symbol of healing. This brings me onto my next point: Priests of the deity performed healing rituals and provided people with medicine. This was because it was thought that Heka was responsible for the well-being of humans. Back then, heka wasn't separated from religion like magic is for us nowadays. Casting 'spells' in ancient times consisted of reading sacred texts out loud, prayer, ritual, but also music, poetry, and dance. Keeping this in mind, I expect that a temple such as this, which was completely dedicated to Heka, must have functioned as a place of worship, as well as a place where people went to get healed," she finally concluded.

"Exactly. Couldn't have said it better myself," Maureen said with a nod of approval. "Know that I've assembled this team with great care. Hermione has expertise on the subject matter, Severus will act in his capacity as Curse-Breaker, I've chosen Else for her earlier involvement in the excavation of Per-Amu, and lastly asked Omar to join, as he has years of invaluable experience under his belt. I was forced to keep the team small as one of our own was recently ambushed by grave robbers," she pointedly did not look Hermione's way, "and the Aurors are still looking into the matter." Maureen rubbed her hands excitedly, before summoning five manilla folders and handing them out. "Now, without further ado, let's prepare for our journey there."

Buzzing with anticipation, Hermione quickly headed back to her desk to pour over the folder's contents.

Sooner rather than later, the small gathering of wizarding archaeologists finally found themselves staring up in awe at the Temple of Per-Amu. Everybody fell silent as they took in the sight. Snape stood before them next to Maureen. His arms were crossed and looked bored at first glance. Nevertheless, when Maureen began to describe the amount of curse-breaking that had been needed to gain access to the temple, Hermione thought she detected a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

Hermione turned her attention back to the Temple. The first thing she noticed was that it seemed much bigger and imposing in person. They had Apparated directly onto its processional path, which sloped up towards the large double doors that unmistakeably formed the main entrance to the Temple. Flanking said entrance were two imposing statues of the deity Heka. The left statue had been preserved remarkable well, most likely with the help of magic. The statue on the right, however, seemed to be close to crumbling. Hermione guessed that over time, its preserving spells had failed somehow.

Trudging through the loose sand, they started making their way towards the left side entrance - Snape explained that those spells had been easier to lift. Their slow pace granted Hermione time to observe the Temple from a different perspective. Her attention was immediately drawn to the columns that made up its outer wall. Their polished sand-coloured granite looked brand-new and gleamed in the desert sun. They were almost as tall as the statues depicting Heka. The columns were an integral part of the peristyle, which ran around 3/4th of the Temple's courtyard, only stopping when it had reached the looming greyish-brown rock wall.

Completely distracted, Hermione almost bumped into Omar when the group reached the side entrance and suddenly paused. He glanced over his shoulder and proceeded to give her a knowing smile. They filed in one by one, a buzzing Hermione bringing up the rear. They came out into a spacious courtyard, which seemed to be completely overgrown with a wide variety of vegetation. Hermione - and others - gasped at the sight. She immediately knew this must have been a magically sustained garden once. All this time, and none had been the wiser of this small oasis, lying tucked away behind the tall walls of a forgotten temple. She was equally astounded that these plants had managed to survive millennia lacking proper care. Carefully crafted spells probably had something to do with that.

Hermione didn't recognise every plant in her vicinity, but still, as she glanced around, she could identify some: A huge acacia tree further away, different kinds of palm trees interspersed throughout, closer by, the dusty pink flowers of a tamarisk, and- Oh! She immediately recognised a potions ingredient. Hermione crouched down to touch the delicate white flowers.

"Asphodel. Commonly used in Draught of the Living Death, as well as Wiggenweld Potion."

Hermione looked up in surprise. She hadn't heard Snape approach. She let the plant go and slowly stood back up. "Do you think-"

"I do," Snape said with a nod. "It seems likely that at least part of this courtyard was used for growing potion ingredients."

Hermione looked around once more and sure enough, she spotted wormwood growing close by. "Another ingredient of Draught of the Living Death!" She exclaimed, as she excitedly pointed it out to him.

He regarded her with slight amusement. "While both asphodel and wormwood are native to this region, the close proximity in which they were planted does seem to support our theory."

Hermione nodded in agreement, recalling that she once read that the potion was invented in ancient Egyptian times.

"Right!" Maureen called out, causing them both to look up. "Else, I'd like you to take inventory of the courtyard. Omar, why don't you start on the hypostyle halls." She turned to address Hermione, "I'd like you to map out the sanctuary. I think it's best if Severus joins you, as it has remained largely unexplored. I'll join you both soon."

Hermione carefully descended the stairs that led to the Temple's sanctuary. She had to move slowly, as they led into complete darkness. Almost slipping on its slick, unevenly carved out steps twice, she immediately found herself whispering Lumos to further light the way. Once she had safely made her way down, she came out into what must be a wide open space. She halted to listen, and was instantly met by the distant sound of dripping of water. She inhaled deeply. The air was cool and smelled earthy and damp. When she stirred, the sound of her shoes splashing in shallow puddles of water was echoed off the walls.

Right before her, a massive statue rose up into the air. Hermione craned her neck to get a better look. Colourful lavish attire, human features, a curved beard - before her stood unmistakably a statue depicting the deity Heka. Statues were where the ancient Egyptians believed the deity's ba was stored -another aspect of the soul, responsible for the activating life force of one's being. She caught sight of the staff he was holding; it was topped with two snakes, shown writhing around and curling into each other. She looked up in awe, barely registering the sound of swishing robes that rose up from behind her.

"Run ahead, I see?" Snape said disapprovingly.

Hermione tore her eyes from the statue and took in Snape's irritated expression. "I couldn't contain myself," she confessed, before turning her attention back to the deity.

"Need I remind you of the dangers-" he began.

"No, I know," Hermione cut him off. "It won't happen again."

Placated for the time being, but clearly still feeling annoyed at being cut off, Snape sniffed in agitation before finally following her gaze. They both fell silent as they took in the splendour that rose up before them.

"It has been preserved remarkably well," Snape observed after a while.

Hermione hummed in agreement. "Everything here has."

Their eyes met at the same time. No words were needed; in that moment, Hermione knew that they were sharing the same feelings: Reverence, humility, awe-

Unexpectedly feeling her cheeks heat, Hermione quickly lowered her wand and glanced away in confusion. Thus surprised by her own reaction, she impulsively decided to advance further into the cave. She heard Snape follow. After a short walk, both their wand's lights brought a row of doors in sight.

"I suggest we enter the room on the right first and catalogue them counter-clockwise," Hermione said.

Snape nodded. He parked himself in front of the first door and started waving his wand in intricate patterns, while simultaneously muttering complicated sounding spells under his breath.

In the meantime, Hermione made her way back over to the statue. She dug up her camera and started snapping multiple pictures from different angles. Once satisfied with the amount she had taken, she lowered her camera again. She took out a notepad and biro next. Wand clenched between her teeth, she furiously began jotting down her observations.

About half an hour later, Snape called her back over. "Two lingering curses," he announced as soon as Hermione had made her way back to him. He was panting slightly from the exertion. "It should be safe to enter now."

"Good," Hermione said with a tense nod. She held her breath as she watched Snape spell open the door. The loud creak of it hinges echoed loudly around the cave. Stairs appeared in sight, which appeared to lead down into a dark abyss. Using the wall as guidance, Snape took a tentative step down. He paused to listen, casting a few spells to check. Seeming reassured, he took another step down. Foot still hovering in the air, Hermione was just about to follow his lead when the ominous sound of rumbling reached their ears.

Snape shouted out his warning, but it was too late. The stairs instantly vanished, transforming into a smooth surface instead. Hermione's foot was caught by the dampened slope, causing it to instantly slip away. At the same time, Snape disappeared into the void. Hermione shrieked in surprise and pain as she tumbled sideways and landed awkwardly on the unforgiving surface. She lost her wand in the process, causing its light to splutter out. Starting to slide down, Hermione was simultaneously plunged into complete darkness. Feeling herself gain speed swiftly, she threw out her hands to grasp… something. It turned out to be useless, and it only a short ride down before she was deposited onto what felt like a hard stone floor. Hermione collided with a soft object and screamed in fright.

"Accio wand. Accio wand!" She cried out in panic.

Snape's commanding voice filled her ears, "Miss Granger, get a hold of yourself!" He lit up his wand, bringing his earnest face into view. The soft object Hermione had slid into had, in fact, only been Snape.

She quickly scrambled up and rubbed her sore bum and hip. "Sorry," she said, feeling like a fool. She cast her gaze around in search of her wand. Snape summoned it towards him and thrust it into her hands. She sheepishly mumbled her thanks, as her wand's light quickly joined Snape's.

Hermione immediately noticed that the light from their wands reflected off gleaming surfaces. She gasped in surprise. "This must be where the temple's valuables are stored!"

Snape nodded in agreement. "It would explain the security measures." He turned around to face the way they had come. Due to the commotion of their unexpected descend, they hadn't realised a door had slid into place. It was blocking their only way out. He approached the door carefully to start examining it.

Hermione, figuring Snape would not appreciate her hovering, turned her attention to the valuables instead. She approached apprehensively and carefully lifted her wand to get a better look. She tried to contain her excitement as she recognised religious equipment, instruments used in rituals, statues of various other Gods and deities, and also intricate pieces of jewellery. She immediately realised the latter would have instantly been snatched up by Gringotts' Curse-Breakers, hadn't the NAWS recently broken their bonds with the bank. She looked over at Snape. Much could be said about him, but at least he wasn't the type of wizard to sell ancient treasures to the highest bidder.

Feeling glad she had brought her bag with her, Hermione had just started rummaging around for her camera when she heard Snape clear his throat from behind her. She faced him with wearing a curious expression.

"I-" He seemed to hesitate, then looked away. "I'm currently unable to find a way out."

Hermione nodded carefully. "These security measures would've been useless if thieves could simply spell their way out," she told him kindly.

Snape nodded curtly, before conjuring his Patronus. Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she beheld the beautiful creature. A deer - just like Harry had told her. It regarded Snape with soft, kind eyes. Hermione noticed the deer's ears twitching as she listened to his message. As soon as he was finished, the creature bounded off with elegant leaps, leaving the room they were stuck in suddenly feeling far less hospitable. Hermione found herself having a hard time tearing her eyes away from the spot the gentle animal had just vacated.

She was finally pulled from her reverie by the Patronus of what appeared to be a small robin, fluttering into view. Hermione recalled with a pang that Maureen's late son had been named Robin. Maureen's voice filled the air, "tough luck. I'll inquire if the NAWS can provide us with a Curse-Breaker to get you both out. I'll be in touch." The bird vanished into thin air.

Hermione couldn't help but snort. She mentally wished Maureen good luck with that endeavour. Discreet Curse-Breakers were about as common as wild unicorn sightings. Realising this meant they would have to settle in for the long haul, Hermione resolutely crossed the room to sit against the wall. She winced as her bruised bum hit the hard floor. Once sat, she leaned back against the solid wall behind her with a sigh.

Snape, in the meantime, had begun pacing up and down the small space - Hermione followed him with half-lidded eyes. She eventually grew tired of his relentless pacing. "It's not your fault, you know," she finally said.

Snape halted and narrowed his eyes at her. "I should've foreseen this happening."

"Perhaps," she said, ignoring Snape's glare in favour of continuing, "but these things used to happen all the time. As soon as the Gringotts' Curse-Breakers got what they came for, they mostly left us wizarding archaeologists to our own devices. Tarik's gotten stuck in a tomb before, because one of the Curse-Breakers had been very eager to leave. He had completely forgotten Tarik was still in there."

Snape halted and regarded Hermione with scepticism. "Surely not."

Hermione nodded with conviction. "Another time, Omar was forced to deal with a Sphinx all on his own, also due to a negligent Curse-Breaker. Thank Merlin he loves riddles."

Snape just stared at her in disbelief before slowly making his way over.

Hermione watched in satisfaction as Snape finally lowered himself to the ground. She glanced at her watch. It was close to noon already. She pulled out her lunch and offered Snape half.

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry," he said after a beat. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly.

Knowing Snape was a stubborn bastard at the best of times, Hermione separated the lid from her lunch box and placed it onto the ground. Without saying a word, she put Snape's half into it, and left it out in the open for him to grab. As she rummaged through her bag for her thermos of tea, she had to suppress a smile when she spotted Snape leaning forward. Shooting her a glare, he snatched away the sandwich.

In the meantime, Hermione screwed off the thermos' top, filled it with tea, and switched it out for the lid. Hermione poured a mug for herself and closed her eyes as the comforting scent wafted into her nostrils. When after a minute or so, the scrape of metal on stone indicated Snape had accepted her second offer, she allowed herself to smile.

A thought crossed her mind then, 'sharing lunch with Severus Snape feels like trying to feed a skittish, stray cat.' Hermione chuckled at the thought, earning her a second glare from Snape.

Tired of the blinding light of her wand, Hermione transfigured one of her biros into a jar and conjured a bluebell flame inside of it. She stared into the blue flame as her thoughts wandered to her and Snape's conversation of that morning. She was reminded of the question she hadn't gotten to ask him. She supposed that now was as good a time as any. She took a deep breath. Clutching her mug to her chest like a shield, she made eye-contact with Snape. "May I ask you something?"

Snape eyed her wearily. "That depends."

"Why did you forgive me so easily?" She asked him tentatively.

He closed his eyes and sighed in annoyance. "This again?"

Hermione's hesitation instantly made way for frustration. She sat up and glared at him. "Well, yes! It just doesn't make sense!" She exclaimed.

Snape's eyes flashed. "I'm kindly asking you to drop the matter," he hissed at her in warning.

Hermione slammed her mug down, causing tea to slosh over the sides. She scrambled up to stare him down. "Why?" She asked him challengingly.

He crossed his arms and looked away. "Because you're acting like a child."

"A child?!"

Snape slowly rose from the ground. Even though he was taller than her, Hermione refused to back off. Their eyes locked. Tense silence filled the room.

All of a sudden, the memory of Snape's deep voice filled her head, 'fine. You've been punished enough. I guess.'

Hermione felt her eyes widen in understanding. She had been so out of it at the time that she hadn't truly registered Snape's words. She pointed at him accusingly. "You know!"

His nostrils flared slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

But Hermione had stopped listening; her thoughts were racing at breakneck speed. How had she missed the glaringly obvious? It was true that the way her parents had come to their ends wasn't public knowledge. Snape, however, was both Headmaster and Death Eater at the time; he had insider's knowledge.

The room was bathed in blue light as Hermione's bluebell flame flared with her anger. "Keep your pity," she spat at him. Without waiting for his reaction, Hermione turned towards the entrance and started shooting every unlocking spell she knew at it.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione ignored him.

"Miss Granger!"

She drew her leg back to deliver a firm kick to its stone surface.

Snape briefly touched her shoulder. Lowering her foot back down, Hermione whirled around, almost bumping into him.

A look of pain briefly crossed Snape's features. "I'm sorry." He seemed to hesitate, then looked away. "For… what has happened."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief as her anger melted away. "It's not- it's not your fault," she stammered. "I mean… You weren't there when it happened, were you?"

"I was the one who provided them with the address," he admitted through gritted teeth.

Hermione felt her shoulders sag. "Because you had access to them," she muttered in realisation, "as Headmaster."

Snape gave a short nod.

"Well, that's- I mean, you could hardly deny them." She balled her fist and glanced away. Guilt. He felt guilty. It explained so much - his earlier comment about her being punished enough, his explosive anger, the subsequent ease with which he had forgiven her.

Hermione shuffled back to her spot and gingerly lowered herself back down onto the ground. She drew her knees to her chest and rested her cheek on top of them.

Meanwhile, Snape still hadn't moved. Several emotions played out on his face before he was able to school his features again. He finally stirred and strode towards the blocked exit. He pointed his wand at it and started muttering spells again.

Chapter Text

About an hour passed, in which Snape and Hermione exchanged very little words. Therefore, they both looked up hopefully when Maureen's Patronus flew back into the room.

"As I haven't received a message saying otherwise, I'm assuming you're both doing alright. I've found a Curse-Breaker willing to work with us. He promised to be discreet." She paused, as if contemplating how much she should share. "There wasn't much choice to be had and well…" She sighed. "It's Bill Weasley. I know, Hermione, I'm aware it's not… ideal. He'll be arriving soon." The robin disappeared from sight.

An annoyed groan immediately escaped Hermione's lips.

Snape - who had recently taken a seat again - glanced her way. "I presume Mr. Weasley is still under Gringotts' employ?"

Hermione hummed in affirmation. "I'm worried he'll disclose the Temple's location." As she observed Snape's furrowed brows, another problem presented itself to her, "have you given thought to how we'll keep your identity hidden from him?"

He shrugged. "I will most likely have to Obliviate him."

Hermione baulked internally at Snape's casual tone; after all, he was planning on performing an illegal spell on someone without their consent. On the other hand, she knew Snape was an accomplished Occlumens and Legilimens. It was therefore plausible that he was skilled at performing memory charms as well; the probability of him causing Bill harm was probably low. Besides, Obliviation would solve their problems swiftly. That's why in the end, Hermione decided to withhold comment. She would wait and see how everything would play out. Separate from her moral dilemma, Hermione also wasn't exactly feeling excited at the prospect of having to see Bill again.

Their eyes met at the same time. Snape's bore into hers. Hermione noticed that in the hue cast by her conjured fire, Snape's obsidian eyes had taken on a deep, midnight blue colour. It was as if he was testing the waters; silently awaiting her protest. Hermione held her breath before nodding once.

Without breaking eye contact, he nodded back. In that moment, it felt as though something shifted. Seemingly, a wordless pact had been formed. It caused a small thrill to pass through Hermione. She rubbed both her arms as goosebumps spread across them. She finally averted her gaze, eyes drawn to the dancing flames of her bluebell fire instead.

Still feeling cold despite her conjured flames, Hermione decided to divide the last of her tea among them. This time, when she wordlessly handed Snape his cup, he accepted it without making a fuss.

Yet again, they both remained silent for a long time. Hermione felt herself getting restless. There was another question she wanted to ask Snape; it was on the tip of her tongue. What made her hesitate was fear of Snape's reaction. So far, he had revealed barely anything about his personal life to her. Even being allowed inside his room had felt strangely intimate.

Once the silence became unbearable, she finally opened her mouth, "when did you decide to become a Curse-Breaker?" she asked him tentatively.

Snape stilled. He slowly lowered his cup before his piercing gaze met Hermione's inquisitive eyes. "It was an… impulse decision."

He didn't elaborate, so Hermione ventured another question, "was it because of the NAWS's job listing?"

"Partially," he only said.

Hermione felt her impatience mounting, so she opened her mouth to voice one more query.

"Miss Granger," he drawled, "just because we are stuck in this room together, does not mean I am open to chitchat."

Hermione glared at him before huffing in indignation. "My sincerest apologies for making you suffer. From now on, I will make sure not to bore you with any more chitchat." She quickly rose and crossed the room. She made sure to keep her back towards Snape as she started to measure the first artefact she came across - a jade statue depicting the deity Horus. She pointedly ignored Snape's prolonged exhale behind her.

"I don't recall you taking a N.E.W.T in History of Magic," he finally said.

Hermione paused, but didn't turn around. "That's because I didn't," she said at last. "I worked it out with Professor McGonagall. Cambridge recommended me to take at least one maths or science subject, and a minimum of one arts or humanities subject." She crossed her arms and turned to face Snape. "Potions could pass for a science subject, Arithmancy for maths, and Ancient Runes for humanities." A glowing letter of recommendation from Professor McGonagall and a cogent admission paper had done the rest.

"I can't really blame you for dropping History of Magic. Old Cuthbert Binns truly has always been a rubbish teacher," Snape commented drily.

To her own surprise, Hermione chuckled softly in response. "The worst."

"It became tiresome," he suddenly said. About a minute had passed.

Hermione looked up in surprise. "What did?" she asked him gingerly.

"Potioneering. I made potions to order. It was… fine," he said with a tired sigh.

"Monotonous," Hermione supplied.

Snape nodded. "I started craving change. It's no secret that I've always had a vested interest in the Dark Arts," he grimaced before continuing, "but counter-curses, especially." He gestured vaguely. "Hence, curse-breaking."

Hermione tentatively walked forward and sat down cross-legged in the middle of the room. She regarded him with interest. "Why the NAWS?"

He scowled slightly at her asking him a follow-up question, but answered anyway, "partly coincidence. I was reading the Daily Prophet when I stumbled upon the vacancy; I'd sent off my application before I could talk myself out of it."

Hermione hummed. "How are you liking it so far?"

He seemed to chew on his words. "It's… different. Fascinating, though."

They both jumped when the sound of stone grinding against stone suddenly assaulted their ears. The door was slowly moving out of the way, meaning that Bill had managed to lift the curse. They quickly stood up.

Hermione tensed as Bill came into sight. His eyes settled on her first. He gave her a curt nod, which she stiffly returned. He looked nervous; his brows were furrowed and his wand still raised. Snape shifted slightly, causing Bill to glance his way. Confusion crossed his face before his eyes widened in shock. "Professor Snape?" he asked hesitantly.

"Mr. Weasley," Snape greeted him apathetically. Although his wand was lowered, Hermione noticed he was gripping it tightly.

Before the stunned Bill could so much as utter another word, Snape had brushed past him and disappeared up the stairs. Bill turned towards Hermione, gesturing wildly towards the space Snape had just vacated. "I thought he was-"

Maureen popped up behind him, sternly cutting Bill off. "Now you see why we require your discretion. Word about Severus' survival mustn't get out."

Several emotions crossed Bill's face, before his expression became unreadable. "Right," he only said.

Maureen's eyes found Hermione's. They exchanged worried glances.

Hermione pursed her lips as she slung her bag over her shoulder. She lightly touched Bill's hand, causing him to look her way again. "Bill? Can I talk to you in private for a moment?" Hermione shook her head at Maureen when she made to leave. "Preferably not here. I've seen enough of this room for today," she told them with a tired smile. Without checking if Bill had followed, Hermione scooted past him and started climbing the stairs. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but once Hermione reached the sanctuary, he fell into step beside her.

They swiftly made their way outside, and emerged into the courtyard. Hermione had to squint against the sudden onslaught of bright sunlight. She peered around in search of Snape. He was nowhere to be seen, however. She had little choice as she slowly started making her way over to a more secluded part of the courtyard. Here, the garden seemed to be even more overgrown, and she had to traverse it carefully to avoid tripping. She could still hear Bill walking behind her, so focused on finding a private place to talk instead.

They stumbled upon a small carved-out space in the rock wall. Inside, Hermione discovered what looked like a small bench. It seemed to have been carved into the niche's hard stone, and its seat appeared smoothed with wear. Hermione turned around just as Bill appeared in the cave's opening. His tall form blocked out most of the light that tried to pour in.

He looked around curiously before finally addressing her. "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked.

Hermione drew in a small breath to steel herself. If she handled this well, she figured she could perhaps convince him to hold his tongue. "Do you still work for Gringotts?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer to that question.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I do."

Hermione nodded. "I thought so."

An uncomfortable silence filled the small cave. "Did you receive the letter I sent?" Hermione finally asked. "You never replied… You could've applied to the Curse-Breaker position, become my colleague. " She smiled at him, but there was no real conviction behind it. Hermione had sent Bill a letter, to which she had added a newspaper clipping of the NAWS's Curse-Breaker vacancy.

Bill gritted his teeth. "I did receive your letter."

"Did you apply for the position?" she asked tentatively.

He looked away. "I didn't. Fleur didn't want us to move to Cairo."

Hermione frowned at him in confusion. "But Gringotts makes you travel all across the globe. I bet you're in another country most days of the-"

Bill's eyes hardened as he cut her off, "the pay's rubbish. I have a family to support."

"I know the NAWS doesn't pay nearly as well as Gringotts does, but I've seen what they'd offered. It was about as much as an average Ministry worker makes."

Bill stepped forward, his scarred face twisted in anger. "Oh, come off it, Hermione! You and I both know I would never be able to find work anywhere else. Nobody wants to hire a werewolf," he spat out the last word.

"But- but you're not a full werewolf and seeing as the NAWS was willing to hire Snape…"

Bill started shaking his head. "That's incomparable. It was proven after his 'death' that Snape had been a spy for our side all along." His anger faltered briefly, as he seemed distracted by trying to wrap his head around the fact that Snape was still alive.

"But he's still a wanted man!" Hermione retorted, causing Bill to refocus his attention on her. She stepped forward as she felt her anger rise. "You could've at least applied to the position. Merlin knows you have the required qualifications and experience. I can't believe you willingly keep working for that vile bank. Plundering tombs, defiling temples, robbing graves. You're stealing and selling artefacts that belong to the Egyptians!" She felt her balled fists tremble. "You should be ashamed of yourself," she told him with barely hidden disgust.

Bill's eyes flashed with fury. He opened his mouth to rebut when he saw Hermione's attention drawn elsewhere. She suddenly took a step backwards. Bill followed her gaze and whirled around, but froze when he was met by the sight of Snape, pointing his wand at Bill's temple.

"Obliviate," Snape breathed. It was immediately followed by a whispered "Legilimens."

Hermione felt completely lost for words as she slowly skirted around Bill. She was filled with dread as she watched Snape coolly check Bill's mind for lingering memories. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, Snape lowered his wand again.

A vacant look had entered Bill's eyes. Without another word or glance at either of them, he Apparated away.

Their eyes met. Snape's were filled with a quiet resignation. Hermione's shocked expression made place for one of sorrow as she realised how quickly her conversation with Bill had derailed.

Snape's features softened slightly at the sight.

"Was he planning on telling?" Hermione asked him with a small voice.

Snape let out a tired sigh. "He was still on the fence." He turned around and told her without looking back, "come, I've personally spent enough time sequestered in caves."

"HARRY POTTER'S FIRST-BORN A SQUIB!"

A photo of a clearly upset James was splashed across the front page. The Daily Prophet crumpled under Hermione's grip as she skimmed Rita Skeeter's drivel. Certain snippets from the article jumped out to her: 'According to trusted sources', 'impact of Potter's Half-Blood status?', 'poor Squib boy, suffering from a deadly, Muggle illness'.

Seething, Hermione threw the paper across the room. It rustled loudly as it soared through the air, before hitting the wall and landing on her desk with a dull thud. She cursed passionately. Who had been this 'trusted source'? Why was Skeeter still allowed to write anti-Muggle rhetoric? And lastly, how had the Prophet gotten their hands on a picture of an upset James? If Hermione wasn't mistaken, the photo was taken in the park located closest to Harry and Ginny's house.

Hermione fished her mobile from her bag and flipped it open - no new messages. She quickly sent one to Harry, expressing her anger and offering him her sympathies. She made sure her mobile's sound was still on before stuffing it back into her maroon robes' pocket. Hermione checked her watch. If she didn't leave now, she would be late for work.

She arrived at the Temple in a foul mood. Feeling glad she didn't encounter anyone on her way in, Hermione stomped up and down multiple staircases before arriving back at the valuables room. She had been tasked with cataloguing its contents while Snape worked on unlocking the room nextdoor.

Hermione slowly simmered down as she got stuck into the soothing and familiar routine of cataloguing artefacts. Harry messaged her back about halfway through the morning.

'Ginny's fuming. I dropped by the Prophet on my way to work. Skeeter wasn't in. Editor-in-chief promised to reprimand. Sounded unconvincing - Harry'

Hermione worried her lower lip as she read the message again. Just as always, it looked like Skeeter would be getting away unpunished with ruining another person's life. This time it wasn't just any other person though - 'no,' Hermione thought angrily. This time, the cow had chosen to target her best friend's gravely ill 1,5-year-old son; Hermione's own godson. She balled her fists. Perhaps it was time for her to personally pay Skeeter a visit soon.

Hermione felt entirely too restless to continue, so she decided to head upstairs for a break. She almost bumped into Snape on her way there. "Apologies," she said while stepping aside to let him pass.

He greeted her with his signature nod, followed by an all too familiar, "Miss Granger."

His greeting sounded lighter than usual - less caustic. It caused Hermione to thoughtfully stare at Snape's back as he walked away from her. He had almost disappeared out of sight, when she called after him on impulse, "would you like to join me for a cuppa?" Merlin knew she could use the distraction, even if they did end up bickering again.

He stopped mid-stride and remained silent as he contemplated her offer. "Alright," he said at last.

A small tea station had been set up inside the first Hypostyle Hall. They each prepared their tea in silence. Hermione noticed that Snape took his the same way as she did - strongly brewed, no sugar, and with a splash of milk. She grabbed a chocolate digestive before peering around for a place to sit. She noticed that the Hall was deserted. She knew Else and Omar always skipped their breaks, preferring to spend a long lunch at home. "Shall we head outside then?" she asked him when no seat was to be found.

Snape agreed and led the way into the courtyard. He seemed to know where he was heading, so Hermione followed him curiously as they meandered through the overgrown garden. He finally halted before a granite bench and gestured for Hermione to sit.

"Don't worry, I Transfigured it myself," he answered Hermione's questioning look. Once she sat down, he took a seat beside her.

Hermione took in their surroundings. The bench was completely hidden from view. The sun had warmed up the otherwise cold stone which made it pleasant to sit on. The only sounds that reached them was the buzzing of mosquitoes and the rustling of leaves. Hermione closed her eyes and let the sun warm her somewhat chilled skin. She settled back and shivered slightly, as she felt a blessed wave of tranquility wash over her.

Hermione wasn't in the mood to chat; this morning's article, combined with Harry's recent message had caused melancholy to settle over her. Snape didn't seem too bothered by her lack of conversation, though. He merely pulled out a book and left Hermione to stew. In the end, she took out her own current read and joined him. It reminded her of the breaks she had spent alongside Snape during the excavation of the child's tomb. She had enjoyed herself then, and found herself doing so in the present as well.

The remainder of that day passed by uneventfully, although Hermione had noticed her mood had lifted slightly.

The next day, Hermione found herself wandering over to Snape again. His questioning eyes met hers when she reached him. "Tea?" she only asked him. He nodded with only slight hesitation this time.

Before they headed outside, Hermione held the roll of biscuits out to Snape. "Want one?"

He declined.

"Are you not fond of chocolate digestives specifically, or biscuits in general?" she asked, as she placed the biscuits back on the table.

She saw him shrug from the corner of her eye. "I simply do not care for most baked goods."

Hermione cocked her head. "Shame. Are there any biscuits you do like?"

He only rolled his eyes at her. Without answering, he lead the way outside.

They both pulled out a book as soon as they sat down. Their break was spent in - what Hermione would describe as - companionable silence again.

Back in the sanctuary, Hermione's foot had already hit the first step of the stairs, when Snape's drawling voice reached her ears, "gingersnaps."

Hermione halted. Thoughts already on the artefacts waiting for her downstairs, she blinked at Snape. He had been about to disappear through the door next to hers. A glower was slowly forming on his face when she didn't answer. She started slightly when understanding finally dawned. "Gingersnaps," she repeated quickly.

His glower disappeared. Snape only gave her a careful nod, before finally entering the room.

Later that evening, Hermione mindlessly ambled around the quiet aisles of her local supermarket. The only sounds that could be heard were the scuff of her sandals against the tiles, the low buzzing of the bright overhead lighting, and, in the distance, the beeping of products being scanned at the tills. A shopping basket was swinging from her the crook of her arm, and her feet were automatically navigating her through the shop. Before she knew it, a bag of brown sugar ended up in her hands. She looked down at it in with furrowed brows, before slowly placing it in her shopping basket. Next, she went on the hunt for eggs.

She knew the recipe by heart, had made it many times with her mum. Back in the kitchen, her hands moved as if on autopilot; preheat the oven, mix the dry ingredients, then the wet ones in a separate bowl. Mix everything together, add the egg. Roll the dough into little balls, and place them on two baking trays. Bake for twenty minutes.

As Hermione slid the last tray into the oven and quickly closed its door, she could almost hear her mum in the background, softly humming along with the kitchen radio as she did the washing up. Her heart ached at the sudden urge to pop her head into the living room - like she had always done - where her dad would be sat on the sofa, watching football on the telly. Then, she would always announce that, 'they'll be ready in twenty!'

She frowned deeply at her own reflection in the oven door. When was the last time she had cooked, let alone baked anything? Despite her impeccable memory, Hermione couldn't recall. She opened the door of the kitchen cupboard allocated to her and was met with two rows of neatly stacked tinned soup. Chicken, mushroom, asparagus, tomato… she startled when her timer went off - right.

"Biscuit?" Hermione asked the next day with fake casualty. She held the plate out to Snape.

"No, I-" Snape started saying automatically, but paused when he registered the plate's contents. It was piled with freshly baked gingersnaps.

"Are those-"

"Gingersnaps? Yes, they are," Hermione answered his unspoken question as she stepped closer. "Don't you want to try one?" When he didn't move, the smile that played on Hermione's lips began to fade. "Or- or not…" she mumbled when he still hadn't stirred. She put the plate back on the table. With her back turned to him, she allowed herself a moment to hide the disappointment that she knew was clearly written across her face. What kind of reaction had she expected? She was suddenly annoyed with herself - she didn't want to be feeling disappointed over a bloody plate of biscuits.

A hand suddenly reached past her, its long fingers closing around a gingersnap. Hermione whirled around and watched on in quiet surprise as Snape took a small bite and chewed carefully. He swallowed. His dark eyes unreadable as they bore into hers. "Thank you," he finally said in a measured tone.

Hermione couldn't suppress her grin as she watched him pop the rest of the biscuit into his mouth. Without exchanging another word, they headed out into the courtyard.

The next day, Hermione closed the journal she had finished reading with a content sigh. She surveyed the courtyard, checked her watch, flipped open her mobile (no new messages), crossed her left knee over her right, then her right over her left, and finally glanced at Snape. He had actually surprised her that morning; he approached her after she accidentally lost track of time. She had been bowled over when, next, he handed her a mug of tea prepared exactly the way she liked it.

Currently, he seemed wholly unperturbed by Hermione's antsy behaviour, as he continued reading his book without paying her any attention. It was laying in his lap, so unfortunately, Hermione couldn't make out its title. "What are you reading?" she blurted out, feeling emboldened by Snape's forthcoming behaviour earlier that day.

His eyes didn't leave the page, but he did slowly lift the book so Hermione could see the front. The cover looked worn, its spine, creased. 'Beneath the Surface,' it read. It was written by one 'Benjamin Horn'. She didn't recognise the title nor the novel's author. "What's it about?" Hermione asked him curiously.

He closed the book, using his finger as a makeshift bookmark, and stared at its cover. His brows were creased in thought. "Love, loss, grief," he finally said. "The main protagonist leads a rough life, but he tries to make the best of it." A hint of fondness crept into his voice.

"You've read it before," Hermione observed.

Snape's eyes finally met hers, and he nodded. "Many times. I always find that different parts of the book speak to me at various points throughout my life."

Hermione hummed in understanding. "I love stories with depth. I haven't heard of this one, though."

"You probably wouldn't have," he said thoughtfully. "I've done some digging and found out that it was never put into print a second time. I stumbled upon this copy many years ago - completely by accident, while perusing a second-hand bookstore. The novel very quickly became one of my favourites."

As he continued describing his deep dive into the author's life, his expression was more open than Hermione had ever seen it. She found herself hanging on to his every word. She realised he was an amazing storyteller; able to effortlessly craft a vivid mental image with his smooth, deep voice, while simultaneously incorporating his dry wit when the story needed it. Hermione couldn't help but laugh, for instance, as Snape described strolling into the publisher's offices and receiving an address to contact the book's author with. He had gone ahead and sent him a letter. Snape had received an owl a week later - not sent by the writer, though. In it, the author's publisher sheepishly asked Snape not to write the book's author again. As it turned out, the publishing company had received a very angry howler from the book's writer, asking 'why in Merlin's name', they had given out his home address to a random wizard. Apparently, Snape had - even while wearing a disguise - inadvertently scared the publisher's intern so much, that the poor wizard had given Snape the wrong address.

Hermione's pleasant surprise only grew when, after Apparating to her flat later that day, she found Snape's copy of 'Beneath the Surface' deposited into her mailbox. It contained a note in Snape's spidery scrawl, explaining that he was 'interested in hearing her thoughts on the novel'. Curiosity got the better of her and she started reading the book as soon as she reached her room.

"Rough night?" Snape asked Hermione the next morning, while he handed her a steaming mug of milky tea. He eyed her puffy eyes and the dark shadows beneath her eyes with a smirk.

"Why, thank you for asking. I barely got any sleep and it's all your fault!" Hermione whined while they made their way to their usual spot. As soon as they sat down, she pulled the book out of her pocket and laid it down in the empty space between them. "He dies?!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "After everything he goes through; his mum's illness, the death of his brother, managing his lifelong depression - he… dies?"

Snape's eyes lit up in silent amusement while he listened to her ranting.

"Everything was finally looking up, too! He'd bought a house, was finally reunited with his daughter - he'd even adopted that poor cat!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "What's the point?" She left out the part where she had cried her eyes out after finishing the novel. She had barely been able to fall asleep after that.

"What do you think the point is?" he asked her over the rim of his mug.

That made Hermione pause. She chewed on her lip as she stared down at the book's unassuming cover. "I guess the point is that there is none," she said slowly. "We are put onto this earth and left to fend for ourselves. If you're lucky, the people that raise you try and set you up for success." She tried her hardest not to think of her own mum and dad, who had tried to do just that. Had she failed them? "In the end, however, everything can just as easily come crashing down." She avoided Snape's piercing gaze. "Sometimes when you least expect it," she added with a small voice.

Snape nodded. "Exactly. One could say that it's all pointless. We try and influence the way our lives go and it's true that occasionally, we're successful. Oftentimes though, it end up being a useless endeavour." He fished a small book from his trousers' pocket and started leafing through its pages.

"That's quite a grim way of looking at life," Hermione observed, while she curiously watched Snape thumb the pages.

Snape shrugged. "Realistic, more like." He handed her the what turned out to be a book of poetry. He pointed at the verse he had underlined:

Living things don't all require
light in the same degree. Some of us
make our own light: a silver leaf
like a path no one can use, a shallow
lake of silver in the darkness under the great maples.

"Another, less nihilistic, way of looking at it," he explained.

Hermione read the stanza twice, then glanced at the man, who was staring ahead in thought and quietly sipping his tea. Although Harry had never divulged the exact contents of Snape's memories, she had gleaned from the little he had revealed, and the rough set of his jaw, that Snape's life had been hard. And how couldn't it be? Being a double spy during the war… He had probably expected to die. Not for the first time, she quietly wondered what must it have been like, coming to terms with an unexpected second chance at life. Could it even be called thus? She desperately wanted to inquire, but didn't dare to. She resolved to be patient; she wasn't willing to jeopardise the quiet companionship that had unexpectedly formed between them. Hermione looked back down at the poetry collection, which was laying forgotten in her lap. She forced herself to read the remainder of the poem.

Lamium

This is how you live when you have a cold heart.
As I do: in shadows, trailing over cool rock,
under the great maple trees.

The sun hardly touches me.
Sometimes I see it in early spring, rising very far away.
Then leaves grow over it, completely hiding it. I feel it
glinting through the leaves, erratic,
like someone hitting the side of a glass with a metal spoon.

Living things don't all require
light in the same degree. Some of us
make our own light: a silver leaf
like a path no one can use, a shallow
lake of silver in the darkness under the great maples.

But you know this already.
You and the others who think
you live for truth and, by extension, love
all that is cold.

Chapter Text

Reciprocity

 

I do not think that skies and meadows are

Moral, or that the fixture of a star

Comes of a quiet spirit, or that trees

Have wisdom in their windless silences.

Yet these are things invested in my mood

With constancy, and peace, and fortitude,

That in my troubled season I can cry

Upon the wide composure of the sky,

And envy fields, and wish that I might be

As little daunted as a star or tree.

"Hermione!"

As soon as Hermione recognised Maureen's voice, she stopped in her tracks. It was Monday morning, and Hermione had just arrived at the Temple. She waited patiently, and didn't mind, really. The Hypostyle Hall was an awe-inspiring space to be in. Hermione realised she hadn't had many chances to observe it from up close yet. That's why she allowed her eyes to wander for a moment. She took in the Hall's impressive architecture, along with its imposing pylons adorned with colourful images of kings, Gods, and deities.

"Two things," Maureen said, as soon as she reached her, forcing Hermione to tear her eyes from the splendour that surrounded them. Maureen crossed her arms and leaned her hip against one of the pillars. "Severus informed me that he has secured the second room and has requested your assistance with a related matter."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He did?"

A knowing smile tugged at Maureen's lips. "I knew I made the right move when partnering you two up," she said triumphantly. "And yes, he did," she added. "You can join him in a moment. For now, Else will take over the cataloguing of the valuables room." Maureen handed her a Muggle envelope next. "The other matter. One of the Muggle archaeologists back at base approached me this morning. Told me he hadn't seen you in a while and didn't know how else to contact you. He handed me this envelope." She pushed herself off the pillar. "That's all. I'm planning on involving more archaeologists with the excavation of the Temple. I know Tarik, especially, has been very eager to join," she said with a wink.

Hermione waved Maureen off with a smile, as she imagined Tarik's reaction to being told he would finally be able to witness the Temple with his own two eyes. She took Maureen's place and ripped open the envelope, before unfolding the letter inside. She already had an inkling of what the letter would contain, and her suspicions were confirmed as she read its contents.

During the time the NAWS was frantically looking for a new Curse-Breaker, Hermione and most of her colleagues were instructed to help out at Muggle excavations for the time being. Hermione had spent most of that time helping out at an excavation and renovation project at the Meidum archaeological site. As the seven-year-long project had been coming to an end, the team was approached by the Egyptian Museum with an invite to set up a temporary exhibit. There, they could display the several discoveries that were made at the necropolis that was dug up at Meidum. In the letter, Hermione´s former colleague explained that the exhibit would be opening that Friday and reminded her of the fact that she, too, was invited to attend its opening night.

Lost in thought, Hermione absentmindedly stuffed the letter into in her bag as she made her way down to the sanctuary. It wasn't that she had forgotten the exhibit opening; she simply hadn't realized it was happening so soon. She would need to find a dress on short notice - and some new shoes too, now that she thought about it.

Thus distracted by mentally planning her week, Hermione didn't notice Snape's arrival until he pushed himself off the wall he had apparently been leaning against. It was as if he materialized from the shadows cast by the flickering gas lamps hung throughout the tomb. Hermione jumped back in surprise. "Oh!" she exclaimed, clasping her hand in front of her mouth. "You startled me!"

"Apologies," Snape said smoothly. He eyed her for a moment with slight amusement, before gesturing towards the open door behind him. "Shall we?"

"R-right," Hermione said. She pressed her hand to her chest, willing for her heart to stop racing.

"I'm presuming it's another dedicated storage room of sorts," Snape told her as they stepped into the cramped space.

"Hm," Hermione replied in thought, interest immediately piqued. She popped her head back outside and eyed the two doors that led to the two remaining undiscovered rooms on the east side of the sanctuary. "I'm guessing this whole row was dedicated to storage, then," she told Snape. Her eyes roamed over stocks of incense, candles, jugs, various jars, bolts of faded, tattered cloth, and stacks of bowls and plates. "It seems that this room specifically was used for storing ritualistic equipment. As you probably know, at every temple, thrice-daily offering rituals were performed to take care of the God or deity it was dedicated to. I can only imagine the amount of time and resources that went into keeping a temple of this size up and running. Although the use of magic certainly would've lightened the load at this particular one," she added, almost as an afterthought. "I'm guessing that the rooms on the west side of the sanctuary might house equipment related to the healing services the priests of this temple offered."

Now that she thought about it, if anything, the room they were currently occupying more closely resembled a spacious storage closet. It made Hermione realize how close they actually stood, and suddenly, the atmosphere felt very intimate - especially since Snape's sole attention remained fixed on her. Hermione thought that, back at Hogwarts, she would've found it intimidating - being alone with Snape in a room with this little space for manoeuvring around. As it currently stood though, Hermione realized she didn't mind being this close to Snape. Hadn't for quite a while actually, she now realised with a start. Her cheeks heated at the realisation. "Was- was there a specific reason you required my presence?" she stammered.

"There is," he said after a beat. Snape lifted his wand and turned to face the short stretch of wall right next to the entrance. His robes inadvertently brushed against Hermione's bare arm with the movement. "I discovered a hidden compartment." He waved his wand in a pattern that Hermione recognized as the Revelio charm. One of the bricks started emitting a soft, white glow, and Snape carefully removed it with the help of his wand. It revealed a small, hollowed out space, which had clearly been created with the help of magic.

Hermione inched closer to get a better look. Inside lay what she immediately recognised as an ancient wand. It was resting next to several scrolls of papyrus. Hermione carefully levitated it into Snape's wand light. The ancient wand looked like the many others she had encountered in the past; it was curved - made from what she assumed was hippopotamus tusk, and was covered in decorations and hieroglyphics. Most of the time, priests kept their wands on their person - much like modern day witches and wizards would. Therefore, Hermione wondered aloud why this one appeared to have been carefully hidden from view.

Snape merely shrugged. "Perhaps the papyrus will clue us in." He moved closer to observe the wand. "A scarab beetle," he immediately pointed out. It was carved into the wand's ivory surface. "It signifies 'becoming', or 'transformation', doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded in agreement. Next to it there was an image depicting a panther pelt with what looked like two human legs attached. It held a knife in its paws. "Power," she said, pointing at the symbol, "but in the context of protective magic. So this could signify becoming powerful through protective magic?" She looked up at Snape in question, then shook her head. That didn't make much sense.

He hummed in thought. "Becoming or transforming, powerful, protective magic," he summed up. "I think the symbols might signify healing; apotropaic magic."

"Right!" Hermione replied in enthusiasm. She carefully turned over the ancient wand, which was still levitating in the small space between them. It read: '𓄿𓅃𓄿𓈎𓅂𓈖'. "Awaken?" Hermione translated out loud. She stared at the symbols in confusion. "Maybe they had spells to awaken people from a comatose state?"

"Possibly," Snape said thoughtfully.

Hermione pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and spread it out on the table, before carefully levitating the wand onto it. She turned her attention towards the papyrus scrolls.

"How do we unfurl them?" Snape asked her.

"We don't. At least, not right now. I didn't bring the right equipment to prevent causing them damage. For now, this will have to do…" She summoned a thermometer from her bag and laid it down next to the scrolls. She then cast an invisible barrier charm on the small niche, which, in effect, sealed it off from the rest of the room. She eyed the thermometer. "Nineteen degrees," Hermione declared after a minute. "That will do for now." She turned to face Snape, who had been observing her with interest. "To be continued," she said, grinning excitedly. She simply loved sharing her passion for wizarding archaeology with others. "Tea?"

As soon as they reached 'their' spot, Hermione bent forward to dig up her current read. As she rummaged through her magically enlarged bag, her hand accidentally brushed against that morning's letter. An idea struck her, and she tentatively pulled the letter from her bag, glancing at Snape to gauge his reaction. His eyes were following a small gecko scampering by their feet. "Have you ever visited the Egyptian Museum?" she asked.

"I have. Once," he said, tearing his eyes away from the lizard to look at her. "Why?"

Hermione was struck by his lack of suspicion. She wondered when he had stopped distrusting her. "Back when I was helping out at the Meidum archaeological site," she explained, "a curator from the museum approached my team. She asked if we would be interested in displaying some if the artefacts we'd uncovered at Meidum's necropolis. The exhibit is opening this Friday evening and I was wondering if you're interested in attending…" her voice drifted off while she watched several emotions play out on Snape's face; among them were interest, surprise, and scepticism. Finally, he became unreadable. Hermione fiddled with the envelope, but purposefully refrained from saying anything more. She knew by now that Snape tended to take his time answering sometimes - especially when he was on the fence about something.

"I suppose that would be… agreeable." He winced slightly as he uttered the last word.

Hermione sat up striaght. "Right! Great!" she said shrilly. She laughed nervously. "I can give you a tour, maybe? If you'd like," she hastily added.

Snape's eyes searched her face, then nodded. "It sounds interesting. Where can I find more information on the exhibit?"

"On the internet, I suppose-" Hermione started saying, before taking in the scowl that was forming on his face as soon as she mentioned the word 'internet'. "Judging by your reaction, I'm assuming you don't own a computer either," she concluded with a soft laugh, feeling herself relax again.

"Quite," he said, humour lacing his tone.

"I can print the information when I get home, or... I could just share my experiences from the excavation?" she suggested, feeling emboldened by his earlier response.

He paused. "In general," he drawled, "a firsthand account is preferable to the nonsense that they put on the internet."

Hermione perked up in excitement. "Where to start… Right, I joined the team in February-"

Hermione turned from side to side, taking in her appearance as it was reflected back to her by the floor-length mirror. It had taken half a bottle of Sleekeazy's to transform her usually bushy curls into sleek, shiny waves, which she had then fashioned into a side swept hairdo. As she wasn't very skilled at doing her own make-up, Hermione had only applied a coat of mascara and painted her lips a deep red that matched the colour of her dress. Speaking of which - Hermione let her gaze travel down the dress she had only bought the day before. Her fingers skimmed over its burgundy velvet material, which felt comfortably soft against her skin. The sleeves left her shoulders bare. Its fabric crossed over her chest, before joining at her lower back. From the waist down, the dress' full skirt flared out beautifully, its hem just grazing the tops of her knees. She had also splurged on a pair of black leather pumps. They had a bit of a heel, but were still reasonably comfortable to walk around in. The shoes were round-nosed, and fastened with a strap and small golden buckle at the front.

Hermione blinked as she took in her own reflection. It was hard to reconcile this witch with the one that traipsed around archaeological excavations all day. Her current self looked poised, put together - elegant, even. The Hermione that most people knew, however, was often covered in dust or dirt, perpetually flushed from the dry, desert heat, with barely containable curls that were hastily thrown up in a bun or plait to keep them out of her face as she worked.

She averted her gaze, and checked if her wand was still in the pocket of her dress. She grabbed her beaded handbag, and without glancing at herself again, Disapparated.

Hermione landed in a narrow, darkened alley, located between two residential flats she had scouted out the day before. She immediately knew where she was headed and quickly crossed the busy road to get there - with its distinct, deep salmon exterior, the Egyptian Museum was hard to miss. As Hermione turned the corner and the museum's entrance came into view, sudden nerves made her slow her pace. Even past the museum's closing hours, droves of tourists were still milling about. She took in their casual attire and curious glances, and suddenly felt overdressed. She also began to doubt if she should have invited Snape. Somehow, she was sure that he would show up, but would he enjoy himself at all? He had told her he would be disguised, so at least he wouldn't be drawing unwanted attention to himself.

When Hermione reached the museum's entrance, she climbed the steps that led up to its doors. After showing her invite to the doorman, she slipped inside. The normally busy main hall was mostly void of life. Hermione could only spot two turbaned men in the distance. They were dressed in traditional Egyptian robes and were weaving their way through the many statues and coffins interspersed throughout the hall. Hermione followed. The clacking of her heels against the museum's tiles was the only sound that accompanied her while she did so.

It turned out that the exhibit was located in a room off the side. There, a small crowd was already gathered. Servers could be seen carrying around trays of wine and fresh juices. Hermione immediately grabbed a glass of wine as soon as one of the servers passed her by, smiling at him gratefully. She found a wall to lean against and sipped from her beverage in silence, giving herself time to get settled.

Severus glared at the oblivious hag beside him, who threw her head back in laughter and almost bumped into his side. Merlin, he was instantly reminded why he hated crowds. Infuriatingly, most people completely lacked spatial awareness - especially when alcohol was in play. Severus narrowed his eyes at the server that passed him by.

Truth be told, this wasn't the first time Severus questioned why he had accepted Granger's invitation. He wouldn't back out now though; Severus always made good on the promises he made. 'Besides,' he reminded himself. He was genuinely interested in the excavation work done at Meidum. He secretly wished, however, that he and Granger could have attended the exhibit on a quiet weekday morning instead. Severus frowned. It still puzzled him; the exact moment at which he had stopped minding being in Granger's company.

Reminded of her, Severus lazily scanned the faces of the idiots in his near vicinity. His eyes slid across those leaning against the walls, passing over an attractive brunette. She stood out in her burgundy dress. The woman looked nervous, though. Her teeth were sunken into her bottom lip- Severus blinked in surprise. He only knew one witch who worried her bottom lip thus when feeling flustered. He inched closer. Granger?

Before he could question himself, he was making his way over to her. She looked up in questioning when he reached her. 'Of course,' he berated himself. She wouldn't immediately recognise him. He was wearing a disguise.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her in his familiar drawl. At least his voice hadn't changed.

He watched her eyes widen in surprise. "Sn- Sir?" she quickly corrected herself.

He nodded. "I go by Eli this evening." One of the names he used when disguised - this one, a small tribute to his mum, Eileen.

Hermione blinked up at Snape. He had just asked her to call him by his - albeit fake - first name. Did this mean he would be alright with her calling him Severus in the future? She had been meaning to ask… For now, she mentally filed away that titbit of information for further inspection at a later date. She focused on his appearance instead. True, he looked different with some of his features altered, but still, he looked like he could be part of the Snape family. He remained tall and lean. His hair was cut much shorter though, but only one shade lighter than its natural colour. His eyes were midnight blue instead of black, but they held the same intensity they always did. His nose was still the same size, but more straight than hooked.

She took in his attire. He was dressed in all black, including his Muggle suit, the vest and shirt he wore underneath, as well as his shoes. He had obviously tailored the suit to better fit his slim frame. Hermione figured he had most likely used the same spells as she had on her own dress. She suddenly realised that she thought he looked quite good wearing it. She blushed and quickly averted her eyes at the unexpected realisation. "Do you want to grab a drink, too, or shall we have a look around first?" she asked him.

"I'm not thirsty," he only said.

Hermione almost stumbled when, after a beat, Snape offered her his arm. She stared at it for a second to make sure she wasn't imagining things. When he didn't stir, she carefully wrapped her hand around his bicep. She felt the muscles underneath her fingers tense slightly, before relaxing again. She didn't dare look at him as he steered her towards the closest display case. Behind the glass lay several shards of pottery. Some contained parts of decorations, others were plain.

Hermione couldn't help it. Instead of focusing on what was behind the glass, her eyes were drawn to the image that was reflected back to them. Her, on Severus Snape's arm. It looked strange. Impossible, even. But also, well, right somehow. She watched her own painted lips part in astonishment. They matched as well; her in red, him in black. Like the Queen of Hearts and the King of Spades. Her stomach somersaulted as she finally managed to tear her eyes away and look up at Snape. He was looking at her expectantly. She knew he wanted her to say something, do something, but she felt completely lost for words. "I- I-"

"Well, I'll be. Hermione Granger, in the flesh!"

Hermione whirled around at the sound of her name, forced to let go of Snape's arm. She clutched the strap of her handbag instead. A familiar face beamed at her. "Samira!" Hermione said, forcing herself to smile at her former colleague. "Long time no see." Merlin, she sounded unconvincing.

Samira stepped forward and drew Hermione into a hug. "You look amazing, love," she whispered into Hermione's ear. "And who's the beau?" she asked, when she drew back. Samira wiggled her eyebrows at her.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot. "E- Eli? Oh! Oh, no. He's just a colleague of mine. Eli, this is Samira. Samira, Eli. We worked together at Meidum"

Samira shot her a knowing look before stepping forward and shaking Snape's hand. "Pleasure! So you're an archaeologist, too?"

"Still in training," he answered smoothly.

Hermione completely missed Samira's response, because at that moment, she felt her mobile start vibrating. She fished it out of her dress' pocket and glanced at the name. "Excuse me," she told them, before hurrying into the quiet main hall to answer it.

Severus watched her disappear into the crowd. He frowned when Granger's ex-colleague tried to draw his attention again. He didn't care for inane chatter. Besides, he was more interested in what was going on with Granger. He suppressed a sigh as he faced the woman again. Samira, was it? Why on earth hadn't Granger provided him with a last name? "I decided to switch careers," he finally answered the question she had asked him earlier.

"Oh, interesting! So what kind of work did you do before this?"

'I was Potions Master by day. Futilely trying to get through the thick skulls of my dunderheaded students. By night, I did a Dark Lord's bidding. I have tortured, manipulated, and killed-' "I taught… Chemistry." He tuned out the woman's reaction, glancing into the museum's main hall instead. His instincts suddenly told him that he needed to follow after Granger. "Excuse me," he said, breaking the woman off mid-sentence. She looked offended. He didn't care. "I need to check on Gr- Hermione." Without awaiting an answer, he made his way over to the exit.

He stepped out into the main hall and immediately knew his instincts hadn't betrayed. Although Granger's back was turned to him, Severus could clearly see she was shaking. Her head hung low, and as he closed the distance, he could hear her cry softly.

"Yes," she spoke into the mobile. "I'm-I'm coming right over. I just need to head to the Ministry and arrange an emergency Portkey. I'll be there shortly." She closed her mobile and whirled around, almost slamming into Severus' chest.

"Sn- Eli! What-"

Severus took in her red, puffy eyes and mascara-smudged cheeks. "What's wrong?" he asked with a low, gruff voice.

She only seemed to hesitate briefly before telling him. "It's… my godson. He's in hospital. He- he had a lot of trouble breathing. Harry had to Apparate him straight there. I-" Severus watched fresh tears wet her cheeks.

He immediately made the connection. That vile article in The Prophet. James Sirius Potter - calling the boy unlucky was a gross understatement. Apparently, the child suffered childhood leukaemia and was a Squib to boot. Being named after abusers was the least of his problems.

"I need to go," Granger said with urgency. She wiped at her cheeks and started skirting around him.

His hand automatically shot out and grabbed her arm. "Miss Granger, wait. You can't Apparate in this state. You'll splinch yourself."

"I'll be fine-" she began saying.

"Don't be daft. Come," he told her resolutely. Keeping hold of her arm, he pulled her towards the nearest empty exhibition room and wordlessly locked the doors behind them. He finally let go of her arm to hand her a handkerchief.

"Thanks," she muttered, while she used it to dry her tears.

"Ready?" he asked her, offering her his arm again.

She nodded and held on tight. Her words of gratitude never reached his ears as right at that moment, Severus Apparated them away.

Except for them, the Egyptian Ministry of Magic's glass foyer was devoid of human life. The only other living beings there, were a small group of house-elves, who could be seen magically cleaning the floor and windows, emptying the bins, and watering the plants. Still clutching Snape's arm, Hermione led the way. They reached the Portkey Office in record time. She quickly scanned its waiting room. It was completely deserted, just like the rest of the Ministry. Hermione finally let go of Snape and headed for the unmanned desk up front. She eyed the closed door behind it, assuming that was where the Portkey Office's employee was located. She suppressed the urge to yank the door open and force her way inside. Instead, she rang the silver desk bell that stood in front of her. It emitted a single, clear chime. Muffled movement could be heard, before the door slowly opened and a weary looking middle-aged wizard shuffled out. He was slightly bent over and releasing tired sighs.

"Yes?" he asked, once he had reached the front desk. Bugged eyes peered up at Hermione through thick-lensed glasses.

"I need an emergency Portkey to Royal Marsden Hospital in Chelsea, London," Hermione rattled off.

"Certainly. Please fill out the form and one of our emergency staff members will be with you shortly." He grabbed a clipboard and self-inking quill, and slid them over to her.

Hermione swiped them off the desk and sat down in the nearest seat. Snape joined her. She tried to answer the first question, but her hands were shaking so badly it became nearly impossible to write.

Snape's long fingers suddenly closed around her right hand. It was pleasantly warm against her icy skin. "Allow me," he offered.

Hermione met his earnest gaze and gave a small nod. She hurriedly handed him the form and quill and automatically began fiddling with the strap of her handbag.

"Full name?" Snape asked her.

"Hermione Jean Granger." She glanced over and watched him scrawl down her name in his small script.

"Date of birth?"

"September 19th 1979." Only the sound of quill scratching on parchment filled the room.

"Occupation?"

"Wizarding Archaeologist."

"Description of emergency?"

Hermione felt herself get choked up. She opened her mouth and closed it again. She wanted to call this a family emergency, but in all actuality, James was only her godson. She had no real family left.

"Family emergency?" he suggested.

Before Hermione could protest he was already writing it down.

He glanced down at the remaining list of questions and pursed his lips in annoyance. "How much more could they require? What don't they understand about the concept of an emergency." He suddenly rose and strode over to the desk. He slammed the clipboard down on the desk, causing the Ministry worker to let out a startled yelp. "This is all the information she'll provide. If you'll need more, she will be happy to help once the emergency has passed. Arrange this witch a Portkey now, or so help me Merlin I will create one myself."

Clearly intimidated by Snape's glower, the wizard hastily snatched the clipboard from the desk and mumbled to Hermione that she could go through the second door on the left. She hurried over and put her hand on the door handle, but paused to glance back at Snape.

His arms were crossed and he was scowling at the Ministry wizard, who was avoiding his gaze. Snape turned Hermione's way when he noticed her looking at him and gestured for her to hurry.

Their eyes met. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but didn't know what. She realised she wanted to thank him, but for some reason, the words had gotten stuck in her throat. All of a sudden, she rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she mumbled into his shoulder. She felt him freeze. He raised his arms to return the hug, but Hermione quickly let go. She stepped back. Snape avoided her eyes. He was slightly flushed.

With nothing left to say, Hermione walked over to the door again. She looked over at the flustered Snape one last time before opening it. It was as if an invisible hand nudged her forward as she stepped through to face reality.

Luckily, the other Ministry worker had understood what an emergency entailed. She had sorted Hermione out very quickly and before Hermione knew it, she had landed in the familiar padded Portkey-room of the British Portkey Office. As she hurried down its corridor, the usual clacking of her heels was cushioned by its worn carpet. All the office workers had gone home already. The lights were dimmed, bathing everything around her in a golden hue. She reached the lifts in record time and jammed the down button. Hermione released a sigh of relief when the lift arrived promptly and was blessedly empty.

She pressed the button that read 'The Atrium', and closed her eyes as she leaned her flushed cheek against the lift's cool metal wall. She felt a silent tear slide down her cheek while she listened to the golden grille slide closed. The lift began to move downwards.

"Hermione Granger," she said impatiently. The nurse opened her mouth but Hermione cut her off. "No, I'm technically not related. I'm his godmother."

The woman grit her teeth. "As I've told you before, Miss Granger, godmother or not, only family is allowed outside of visiting hours. You are free to take a seat in the hallway, but otherwise, I must insist you leave."

"Hermione?" a familiar voice called out.

Hermione whirled around to face Harry. He had poked his head out into the hallway to see what all the commotion was about, but stepped into full view once he confirmed that it was truly her. His eyes were bloodshot and shadowed. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles, as though he had run his hands through it many times already. He had put on his jumper seemingly backwards and his trousers were creased.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in relief as she flew into his arms. The tears that had been building spilled down her cheeks, wetting his jumper. Harry didn't seem to mind. "I came as soon as you called. The Portkey Office was a nightmare. Snape-"

Harry hushed her. "You're here now. That's all that matters. Come," he said, as he led her towards a row of brightly coloured plastic seats.

"'m Sorry. I'll try to get a hold of myself," Hermione sniffed guiltily. She dried her eyes on the handkerchief Harry handed her.

"Nonsense," he said, as he started rubbing some warmth back into her bare arms. "Jamie's stable now, and Ginny, Molly, and Arthur are with him. Take as much time as you need."

Hermione nodded in relief as she blew her nose. "I'm glad."

Several beeping sounds filled the otherwise silent room. The lights were dimmed. Hermione's knuckles went white from her tight grip on the hospital bed's railing. The cold metal bit harshly into her already chilled skin, but she didn't pay it any attention.

She felt numb, as she looked down and took in the sleeping James. Her attention was immediately drawn to the oxygen mask he was wearing - Harry had told her James kept trying to pull it off. A multi-coloured hat kept his head warm - it was the one she had knitted for him a short while ago. From under the collar of his dinosaur pyjamas, a catheter peeped out - it was part of the central line they had place into his chest to easily administer his treatments. His little hands were folded into tight fists, both tucked securely under his chin.

Hermione gently stroked James' cheek and pulled up his blanket. That's all she could ever do for him - offer comfort, knit him hats. She was completely powerless. She glanced at Ginny. She looked exhausted and was fast asleep, curled up in the armchair that was shoved into the corner of the hospital room.

It wasn't looking good, Harry had told her in the waiting room. The doctors had performed an emergency CT-scan on James. Although he was booked for a bronchoscopy the following morning, the doctors feared the worst.

Hermione's numbness suddenly made place for outrage. Vision blurry with tears, Hermione quietly stormed out of the hospital room and into the nearest closet. With shaking hands, she locked the door, and cast a silencing charm. Only then, did she let out the loud, heart-wrenching scream that had been building up for a while now. Magic burst out of her, causing cleaning supplies to explode all around.

Hermione left the hospital early the next morning. Bleary-eyed, she weaved hear way through the early morning crowd at the British Ministry of Magic. As she hobbled past the Atrium's clattering fountain, all she could think about was removing her heels from her poor, blistered feet, scrubbing off her make-up in a scalding shower, and crawling into her bed with a hot water bottle clutched to her chest. It probably couldn't soothe the deep ache that had settled there, but at least it was worth a try. She finally reached the lifts, and joined one of the lines at random, pointedly ignoring the curious stares of the witches and wizards around her.

She managed to squeeze in with the second lift that arrived, glad she could turn her back to its occupants and escape as soon as they arrived at the sixth level. She rolled her eyes, however, when she felt the lift start to descend first.

At 'Level nine, Department of Mysteries', only two wizards got out. They squeezed past her. Hermione's tired eyes followed them as they walked down the eerie but familiar black-tiled corridor.

At 'Level ten, Courtrooms', surprisingly, most of the lift's occupants exited - it certainly explained why the lift had chosen to go down, instead of up, first. Hermione figured that a trial must be taking place soon. As she flattened her back against the wall to let people pass, her eyes lingered on those getting off. She was about to lean her head back and close her eyes for a bit, when a witches' bright magenta robes and platinum blonde coif caught Hermione's attention. The witch hadn't noticed her yet. She seemed otherwise occupied, furiously jotting down notes on a parchment notepad.

Rita bloody Skeeter.

Before Hermione knew what she was doing, she exited the lift just before its doors slid closed. She didn't look back as she quickly pulled off her heels and ran after Skeeter on bare feet. "You!" Hermione shouted at her.

Skeeter, who was in the process of putting her notepad and quill into her crocodile-skin handbag, immediately halted what she was doing and looked up. A serpentine smile appeared on her scarlet painted lips when she realised who had called out to her. "Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise," she said smoothly. Her eyes were glinting behind her rhinestone-covered glasses. She immediately exchanged her normal quill for her acid green Quick-Qoutes one and put it to parchment. As they floated up into the air together, the quill immediately began taking notes.

"Enough with the pleasantries," Hermione hissed when she reached her. She stepped into Skeeter's space and felt twisted pleasure course through her when the witch involuntarily took a step back.

Skeeter quickly recovered and slowly took in Hermione's dishevelled appearance. "My, my, had a fun night out? Who's the lucky lad?" she tapped her red painted nail against her lower lip, then grinned like the Cheshire cat. "A secret rendezvous with Potter perhaps? He must be in desperate need of consoling, after finding out his son's a Squib."

Hermione threw the heels she was still holding down in anger. "Don't play dumb, you stupid bint. You know exactly why I came after you."

"Oh," Skeeter said in fake surprise, while she studied her nails. "My little article about Potter's unfortunate Squib son you mean? Tell me, how's that poor boy doing?"

"He's just a baby!" Hermione shouted. Several people that were passing by turned their heads and eyed her curiously. Hermione glared at each and every one of them, causing them to quickly avert their eyes.

Skeeter righted herself. "The hallways of the Ministry of Magic are no place to discuss these matters." A hint of annoyance had entered her voice. "Why don't you come by my offices on Monday. Perhaps we can work something out that will benefit the both of us."

Hermione had enough. She swiftly drew her wand, stepped even closer, and, glancing around, discreetly pressed the tip into Skeeter's stomach.

The witch's eyes widened and she looked down in fear. "What-"

"It's my turn to talk now," Hermione told her with a sickly sweet smile. "Pull a stunt like that again, and I'll make good on my earlier threat. I'll drag you up to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures right now, and demonstrate exactly how you're always able to get the inside scoop."

Skeeter's glare turned venomous. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me," Hermione spat. She moved from words to deeds, grabbed Skeeter's arm and started dragging her towards the lifts.

"Alright. Alright!" Skeeter cried out. She wrenched herself from Hermione's grip and righted her robes. She snatched her parchment and Quick-Quotes quill from the air, and stuffed them in her bag. "Happy?"

"That remains to be seen," Hermione said, while she lowered her wand again.

Skeeter shoved past her, throwing her a dirty look while she did so. Hermione watched with narrowed eyes as Skeeter legged towards the end of the corridor and disappeared amongst the small crowd gathered outside the courtroom. Fuming, Hermione summoned her heels, shoved them in her handbag, and stomped towards the lifts. She pushed the button with more force than necessary before dragging a trembling hand through her frizzed hair.

Chapter Text

"Miss Granger."

Hermione's head shot up in surprise. She was in the process of carrying a heavy tray back to her room, loaded with a full teapot, cups and saucers, and an overflowing plate of biscuits. Her eyes were still fastened on Snape, when she felt it tip over. "Bugger!".

Snape's hands instantly shot out to help steady the tray. His hands accidentally touched hers in the process, and he quickly withdrew once the tray was suitably stabilised.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, cheeks slightly pinking. "I really didn't feel like preparing another pot." She turned around to safely put the heavy tray back on the kitchen counter. "Hermione," she blurted out on impulse. Her back was still turned to him. When Snape didn't respond, she swivelled around to face him again. He was wearing a look of confusion. "I've been meaning to tell you. If you want, you can call me Hermione," she explained.

His gaze rested heavily on her; the look he gave her was inscrutable.

Hermione averted her eyes in slight unease. "I also wanted to say thanks again," she spoke to the communal kitchen's colourful tiled floor, "for you help last Friday. I arrived at the hospital in record time. I'm sorry if it ruined your night-"

"Nonsense," he broke her off. The conviction was clear in his voice.

Hermione raised her eyes to meet Snape's again. She waited in silence while he searched for the right words.

"I-" He frowned. "You weren't at the site today."

Hermione felt her eyebrows creep up but immediately schooled her features. In all the time she had known Snape, she had rarely heard him stumble over his words. "Maureen forced me to take the day off," she explained. "I'll be back tomorrow, though."

Silence descended upon the kitchen.

"You see, I need to keep busy," Hermione blurted out. "If not, I think I'll go mad."

Snape nodded in understanding.

Hermione waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Not really knowing what else to say, she cast a quick Featherlight Charm on the tray before picking it up again. She was about to walk out of the kitchen when Snape's baritone rose up from behind her, "Hermione-"

She halted in the doorway and shot him a look of surprise. Curiously, he didn't say anything else. Hermione couldn't read his facial expression, so studied his stiff posture and lack of movement instead. Understanding dawned on her quickly. "Good evening… Snape."

He shook his head slightly.

"Severus, then."

Try as she might, Hermione couldn't completely suppress the smile that played on her lips as she strode back to her room.

"Excellent! I'm famished," Tarik proclaimed, as soon as Hermione walked in. He plucked the tray from her hands and immediately shoved two biscuits into his mouth. "Took you a while. Busy?" he asked around his mouthful of biscuit.

"Hm?" Hermione asked him absentmindedly, her mind still on her earlier interaction with Severus. She busied herself with pouring them both a cup of tea. "Oh, no. It was deserted, actually. Although Severus did happen to walk in just as I was leaving."

Tarik stopped chewing. "Severus walked in?" he asked her with raised eyebrows.

Hermione felt herself start to blush. "Well, yes. What about him?" she said, while she handed Tarik his tea. "I would've dropped the entire tray if it weren't for him." Careful not to spill her own tea, she gingerly sat down on her bed and crossed her legs, before comfortably leaning back against the wall.

"Severus only lets Maureen call him by his given name. And even then, for about half an hour afterwards, he always looks like he's bitten into a particularly sour lemon. That's what." Tarik leaned forward to observe her with scrutinising eyes. "Clearly, I've missed out on a lot," he concluded, before shooting her a waggish smile.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tarik's smile widened. "Nothing, habibi." He picked up another biscuit, then frowned at it. "Wait, I don't even like gingersnaps."

As it turned out, Hermione wouldn't be returning to the temple on Tuesday, nor Wednesday til Friday. Instead, Maureen sent her straight to the Manuscript and Papyrus Restoration Lab of the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization's Conservation Center.

In Muggle archaeology, Papyroligists and conservators would usually be tasked with the preservation and restoration of papyri such as Severus had unearthed. Problem was, these scrolls most likely contained information that would breach the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. That's why in such cases, Wizarding Archaeologists were trained to preserve and conserve papyri instead. Unfortunately, this time, none of Hermione's other colleagues were available.

It was fascinating, although time-consuming, as well as fiddlesome work, done under heavy Notice-me-Not Charms. With the help of a steamer and a spray bottle filled with water, the vulnerable papyri first needed to carefully be unrolled and flattened out. Next, Hermione examined and documented the ink that was used on the papyrus - the kind, its condition, and its reaction to water and ethanol. After that, Hermione needed to carefully remove as much dirt and grime as possible. Lastly, meticulous documentation needed to take place, before finally mounting the papyri between two layers of glass - which was a whole process in and off itself.

She finished the work on Friday morning and took the mounted papyri back to her desk at the NAWS's tent where she would start translation. She hoped to get it all done before the weekend, so she could return to the temple on Monday.

It was still early, and Hermione was tired. She yawned widely as she prepared herself a big mug of strong tea. Most of her evenings were spent Portkeying to London, where she visited James in hospital. It allowed Hermione to spend time with her godson, while Harry and Ginny could take time off for themselves. Oftentimes, James would be ready to go to sleep soon after Hermione arrived. She took it upon herself to read him a bedtime story while cuddling him close, before tucking him in and kissing him good night. Curled up on the armchair she always summoned to his bedside, she watched over him as he fell asleep. As soon as he had, Hermione took out her book or current knitting project, and passed the time while she waited for Harry or Ginny to return.

The previous evening, James had been in pain and had trouble falling asleep because of it. To distract him from his misery, Hermione had come up with the idea of decorating his hospital room for Christmas. She had conjured any decorations she could think of - the more garish, the better. She had covered the room in tinsel, garlands, baubles, and the like, and had even conjured a Christmassy dinosaur at James' request. She had been exhausted afterwards, and had fallen asleep as soon as she sat down in the armchair.

Back at her desk, Hermione pulled out parchment and quill to begin translation.

"Hermione!"

Hermione immediately sat bolt upright and looked around in bewilderment. Severus stood next to her, his hand still clutching the shoulder he had shaken to wake her up. She blinked up at him dazedly. "Severus?" She touched her cheek, which felt wet. Her fingers came away covered in ink. She glanced down. It had spilled all across her desk, too. "I fell asleep?" she asked him blearily.

"It would seem so," Severus drawled. His hand slid of her shoulder to remove the spilled ink with a wave of his hand, before he handed her back the mounted papyri.

They were spotless, and Hermione silently thanked her past self for having the foresight to cast several protective charms upon them. She rubbed her eyes for a moment before peering back up at Severus. "What are you doing here?"

"I… needed to fetch something," he said after a short hesitation.

"Oh," she only said, while glancing at her watch. She groaned in annoyance. She had inadvertently kipped the whole morning away. Now she would never be able to finish the translations in time.

Hermione looked over at Severus, who had left her side and was in the process of rummaging through his desk drawer. An idea formed. "Do you need to return to the temple right away?" she asked him tentatively.

He stopped rifling through his things to glance her way. "Why?"

She worried her bottom lip. "I was wondering if perhaps…"

"Yes?" he asked, when she didn't continue.

"Could you help translating these? They're the scrolls you found hidden inside that carved out bit of wall."

Interest clearly piqued, Severus strolled back over. "How far along are you?"

Hermione sheepishly showed him her blank piece of parchment.

He let out a low chuckle. "Right." He seemed conflicted, looking back and forth between the papyri and the Apparition zone. Then he finally sighed, summoned over his desk chair, and sat down opposite her. "Where shall I begin?"

They worked in companionable silence. After about half an hour, Hermione covertly looked up at Snape, whose quill was hovering above his piece of parchment. He looked lost in thought and was frowning deeply at whatever he had written down. She realised with a start that she had missed this - missed him. Had they gone to Hogwarts together, Severus would have been the perfect study partner. Certainly much better than Harry or Ron ever were. She fantasised briefly about her younger self and a gangly, teenage Snape. She imagined them holed up together in her favourite remote corner of the Hogwarts library, studying alongside each other in blessed silence, while sporadically exchanging study notes and snacking on a bag of assorted sweets from Honeydukes'.

"Hermione?" the current Severus asked. He lowered his quill before his dark eyes met hers.

"Hm?" she asked, still lost in her fantasy.

"I-" he seemed lost for words. "I think you should take a look at this," he said at length.

Frowning, Hermione immediately dragged her chair over to his side of the desk.

She read the first line he had written down: 'Healing spell - or alternatively: Transformation by activation of the ka.' Hermione leaned forward to study the hieroglyphics he had based his translation on. The symbols looked awfully familiar. "Are those…"

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "They match the symbols that were engraved on the ancient wand."

"So this is probably the spell that it was referring to," Hermione pondered.

"That was my assumption as well."

She fell silent as she focused her attention on the papyrus and started translating the hieroglyphics in her head.

Hail in peace!

O, great Amun, Divine protector of common man, Primal goose who uttered the first sound. Unveil that which is concealed within <name here>.

Merciful Khephri, He who came forth. May your great strength provide the transformation that this man/woman sorely needs.

Ba of Re, almighty Lord of Ka's. Have mercy on this person, incapable of wielding. Heka, lift that which halts his/her Ka from flowing freely.

Hail! Great Isis, Protective mother. May you use your Ankh to heal that which ails <name here>.

Mut-Sekhmet-Bast, all-powerful Mother of Gods. Protect this man/woman from horrible death.

Hermione felt herself begin to shake. She jumped up and started gesturing wildly towards the spell. Her thoughts were going at break-neck speed. When met with Severus' confusion, she smothered her growing impatience and quickly translated the hieroglyphics out loud for him. She stumbled over her own words while she hurried to do so.

"This is it," she said as soon as she was finished. She sat back down and stared in disbelief at her own trembling hands. "This spell… It could save James' life! Ancient Egyptian wizards and witches believed everybody possessed Heka," she started rattling off, "but that only some could wield it. What if they were right! We know that magical blood flows through Squibs, but for some reason, they are incapable of actually wielding it. What if… what if they found a way to lift some kind of… internal barrier, allowing Squibs to become true witches of wizards! If this spell works, it would heal James' cancer!"

Severus threw her a sceptical look. "This is pure speculation. We don't even know if it works-" he began saying.

"But it's worth a try!" Hermione interrupted him.

"Hermione, no. Ancient magic is not to be trifled with. Experimentation of any kind is out of the question. Especially on a small child." He fixed her with one of his glares before decidedly rising from his seat and levitating the papyrus that contained the spell over to his desk.

"No!" Hermione cried out in desperation. She jumped up and quickly grabbed hold of Severus' arm. He tried to wrench her hand away, but her grip was vice-like. "He will die Severus." Her eyes turned pleading. "How can I live with myself if I've not done everything in my power to safe him?! I can barely live with myself because I didn't- because I couldn't- I couldn't safe them." An anguished sob escaped her.

Severus froze. He looked petrified and horror-struck as Hermione watched realisation hit him. She knew he was thinking of Lily in that moment. How the regret still ate at him, even to this day. How he - just like Hermione would have for her parents - done anything to prevent Lily from dying. He grabbed both her shoulders and forcefully turned her to face him. His eyes bore into hers; using them to will her to listen to him. "Promise me you'll only attempt the spell if he is close to dying." He shook her when she didn't respond right away. "Promise me, Hermione," he said with feverish urgency.

"I promise," she whispered, tears blurring her vision.

"Nobody can know, do you understand? If word gets out that such a spell exists…" He shook his head. "If this spell works on Muggles too… They will hunt us down, Hermione. Do you realise the gravity that this knowledge holds? Do you comprehend the danger that we're in?"

"I do," she said with a small voice. Although her thought were still largely focused on James, she truly did know. Indeed, she completely understood the gravity of the situation. Everything other than James' ultimate survival just seemed of lesser importance right now.

Severus' hand suddenly reached up and used his thumb to carefully wipe a tear from Hermione's cheek. She gasped at the sudden gentleness of his touch and looked up at him in question. He had already stepped back however, and was avoiding her searching eyes.

"Come to me as soon as the situation gets dire," he told her, before swiping the papyrus from his desk and Disapparating on the spot.

Tap, tap, tap.

Hermione was forcefully woken from a deep slumber. "Go away," she croaked out, aimed at no one in particular. She turned onto her other side and tried to ignore the noise in favour of falling back to sleep.

The tapping became more insistent.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she exclaimed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She grabbed her wand and pointed it at the curtains and windows respectively. They flew open, and a bright orange Fwooper immediately flew into her room. She felt him drop two things on her chest - one of them a bright red envelope - before flying off into the night again.

Still not fully awake, Hermione slowly blinked at the unusually coloured envelope. She felt her eyes drift closed again.

The envelope began to emit smoke.

Realisation dawned.

Hermione's eyes flew open. She let out a startled shriek and threw off her duvet, causing several items to fly across the room, before hurriedly scrambling off her bed to get away from the Howler. Cursing loudly, Hermione immediately dropped to her knees and frantically started feeling around for her wand. "Think, witch!" she berated herself. Putting her hand out, she channelled her magic. A length of thin, smooth vine instantly slammed into her hand.

With pounding heart and trembling hands, Hermione hurriedly threw the Howler onto the floor and summoned her voice recorder. She pressed its record button, before immediately placing it beside the now heavily smoking envelope. Pointing her wand at both, she quickly cast an Imperturbable Charm. She didn't dare lower her wand or take her eyes off the Howler yet as she backed away slowly. When the backs of her knees hit her bed, she slowly lowered herself down on the edge of her mattress, before immediately jumping back up when the Howler finally exploded.

The room remained eerily silent while the Howler conveyed its message. Anxiously waiting for it to finish, Hermione was forcefully reminded of that horrid week in her fourth year - when she had received Howler after Howler because of her supposed love triangle with Harry and Viktor. Hermione hoped dearly that - when the letter would inevitably burst into flames - her recorder wouldn't catch on fire as well.

The Howler caught fire.

Hermione immediately cancelled the spell to summon her recorder. While it was a bit hot to the touch, it seemed fine otherwise.

Apprehensive to play back the recording, Hermione chewed on her bottom lip while she stared down at the device. Once she was finally able to gather enough courage, she pressed play.

"Miss Granger!" Rita Skeeter's saccharine voice echoed around the room. Hermione felt the colour drain from her face. "I dearly hope you'll enjoy the piece I wrote about you." Hermione glanced around the room before her eyes fell on the newspaper that Skeeter had apparently also sent her. "I personally think it turned out quite well. Now, I would hate for you to act rashly, so I'll give you a friendly heads up. You see, during my research on your fascinating little life, I stumbled upon a very interesting titbit of information. Something about an unlikely turn of fate, concerning everybody's favourite Death Eater-turned-spy? Ring any bells?" Skeeter let out a short, tittering laugh, before abruptly cutting it off. "Threaten me again, and you'll come to regret it."

Hermione slowly lowered the voice recorder and swallowed with some difficulty. One word from Skeeter, and Severus' life would be utterly ruined. He would be forced to quit. That was, if the Aurors didn't get to him first. He would probably get sentenced to life in Azkaban - or worse - forced to receive the Dementor's kiss. And all be because of yet another one of Hermione's impulsive actions. She buried her head into her hands. How could she have been so stupid?

Looking through the gaps between her fingers, Hermione spotted the latest edition of The Sunday Prophet, which was lying forgotten on the floor. Sitting back up, she tentatively summoned it closer. Staring up from the front page was a photograph of herself. She recognised it as the one taken during her Hogwarts graduation ceremony. In it, she was wearing formal robes and shaking Headmistress' McGonagall's hand, before walking off the podium and out of frame. Another, kinder Prophet reporter, had used it in the past to write a short piece on Hermione, as well as Harry's other former classmates, completing their Hogwarts education.

Hermione slowly unfolded the paper. Its headline read:

'RITA SKEETER PRESENTS:

A SUNDAY PROPHET EXCLUSIVE

-

HERMIONE GRANGER EXPOSED'

"Exposed?" Hermione mouthed in confusion. On the first page, Skeeter went on to describe the first years of Hermione's post-war life: The year she travelled around the world, her subsequent break-up with Ron, her time spent at Cambridge (or, in Skeeter's words: 'Some Muggle University'), and finally her move to Cairo to work for the NAWS. Furthermore, Skeeter had - to Hermione's mortification - also somehow found out about Hermione's six-month long relationship with her University flatmate Jenna. Hermione was extremely private about her bisexuality. She was still coming to terms with it, and had therefore only informed those closest to her of her sexuality. Next, Skeeter, predictably, went into great detail about 'James' tragic fate', before revealing that Hermione was his godmother.

Hermione was shaking in anger at this point. She flicked to the next page almost carelessly. The photograph she was met caused her heart to skip a beat however, as well as her breathing to falter. "No," she whispered. She knew the photo well, but hadn't seen it in years. She desperately wanted to tear her eyes away from it, but seemed rooted to the spot. Hot tears began spilling down her cheeks and splashed onto the Muggle photograph of herself, tanned and wearing a bright yellow sundress, while sitting outside a café and smiling widely at the camera. Opposite her, smiling in a similar manner, sat her mum and dad. The photograph had been taken during their last ever holiday to France. Underneath it read: 'Taken mere months, before Granger would cruelly cast Obliviate on both her parents'.

Hermione refused to read on, allowing the paper to slip from her lap. It landed on the floor with a dull thud. Not knowing what else to do, she quietly crawled back under her duvet before pulling it over her head. Despite everything, sleep caught hold of her swiftly.

She was woken again by bright sunlight, streaming through the still opened curtains and beaming into her eyes. As she slowly gained back her senses, her eyes fell onto the new scorch mark, now marring the space between her bed and desk. She groaned, before casting a quick Tempus to determine the time of day; eight o'clock. She sent a quick message to Harry, before slipping into her clothes and heading out the door.

Severus answered on her third knock.

"Hermione?" he asked in bewilderment when he saw who had been knocking on his door. His perceptive gaze drifted towards the hard set of her mouth, the newspaper she was clutching underneath her arm, and the voice recorder in her left hand. "What's the matter?"

"Can I come in, please?" she asked, avoiding his question.

He immediately stepped aside to allow her inside.

Hermione entered Severus' room for a second time. Not much seemed to have changed. To the left of his window, just past the rim of the cauldron that stood there, a colourless potion could be seen softly simmering away. On the other side of the window stood a comfortable looking armchair. Next to it, a small end table and on top of that, a steaming mug and an opened book. As Hermione turned to close the door behind her, she noticed a pair of Severus' shoes, neatly lined up beneath the coat rack. She quickly toed off her own and placed them next to his.

Severus didn't say anything as he gestured for her to sit on his desk chair. He remained standing himself.

It was quiet for a while. Hermione fidgeted with the voice recorder as she searched for the right words.

"I presume this isn't about your godson," Severus finally said

She shook her head no. "Are you subscribed to The Sunday Prophet?" she asked instead.

Severus scowled as soon as she spoke the paper's name. "I refuse to read that poor excuse for journalism."

"So that means you haven't read today's issue," Hermione concluded.

Severus nodded in confirmation.

"Rita Skeeter took revenge on me by writing a horrid piece where she 'exposes' my post-war life." Hermione reluctantly thrust out the newspaper towards him.

He stepped forward and took it from her without comment, but instead of reading it, he placed it on the desk beside her. "Revenge?" he asked her with raised eyebrows, willing for her to elaborate. He crossed his arms and leaned against the desk, completely blocking the paper from Hermione's view.

"After visiting the hospital, I encountered Skeeter while taking the lift up to the Portkey Office," she explained. "Before I knew what I was doing, I was chasing her down." Hermione went on to describe the confrontation that followed.

"You threatened her?" Severus asked, not able to suppress a small smirk. "I would go so far as to say that the hag had it coming." His eyes lit up in amusement as he was probably imagining Skeeter's reaction.

"Yes, well, you will no longer feel like laughing when you've listened to the Howler she sent me this morning!" Hermione protested loudly, feeling miffed. Truly, she couldn't blame Severus' reaction when he hadn't heard the whole story yet. Still, she felt like he was making light of the situation and it was getting on her nerves. "I've recorded it," she only said, before pressing the play button. She watched Severus closely while Skeeter's recorded voice started talking. Watched, as the amusement slowly faded from his eyes and his smirk got replaced by a frown. The mood in the room turned solemn.

"I'm sorry," she apologised quietly, as soon as the recording stopped playing. "I've already asked Harry to keep an ear to the ground."

Severus looked at her in surprise. "How exactly is this your fault?"

"Because my impulsivity caused her to start digging up my past!" she yelled, shooting him a look of confusion.

"While I do agree that it is… unfortunate that Skeeter found out about my survival, I'm more concerned with how." He finally turned his attention to The Prophet, and smoothed out the wrinkled paper with his fingers. His dark eyes quickly began scanning the article's contents.

Hermione blushed when she realised he would be reading about her love life, and winced when she saw him reach the part about her parents' death.

He cursed when the photograph came into view. "I know for a fact that this isn't public knowledge."

"Right," Hermione said with a strained voice.

Severus looked up at the sound before abandoning the newspaper. He started pacing the room. "The Dark Lord, Rookwood, Avery, Yaxley, myself," he listed, grimacing. "We don't have to worry about The Dark Lord obviously. Avery, as well - he died a short while ago. Rookwood and Yaxley, however, are still imprisoned."

"Could Skeeter have gotten the information from them?" Hermione asked, while she followed Severus with her eyes. "Is there even a way for her to known that they were involved?"

"Possibly, although it seems unlikely. They were never tried for those particular crimes." He shot Hermione an apologetic look before continuing, "who else knows about your parents' fate?"

"Only a handful of people. Back home, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Oh, and Auror Dawlish was the one who first told me. Over here, just you and Maureen." Hermione suddenly gasped. "You don't think Maureen-"

Severus halted to contemplate the possibility, then shook his head. "I'm fairly certain she wouldn't."

"Me neither," she said. Maureen had been working for the NAWS for ages. Besides, she just didn't seem like the type.

They both fell silent in contemplation.

Hermione suddenly recalled a past conversation with their boss. "Maureen never told me explicitly," Hermione slowly began saying, "but she alluded to there being a mole within the NAWS."

"Because you were ambushed," Severus supplied, pausing his pacing again and turning to face her.

Hermione hummed in agreement. "She said that the Aurors were still looking into the matter. In the meantime, she made sure to keep the temple's team small in size. I'm guessing she was afraid the mole would disclose the temple's location as well." Hermione anxiously wrung her hands. "If Skeeter somehow got wind of the mole's identity…" She looked up in alarm. "We need to warn Maureen!"

Severus, who had clearly drawn the same conclusion, nodded in agreement. "If she expands the team now, she risks accidentally including the mole."

"Come," Hermione urged him as she quickly stood, "Maureen happens to live close by."

Severus quickly disguised himself.

True to her word, they only needed to cross the bustling Egyptian Marketplace, brush off a few merchants that tried to lure them to their stalls, and dodge a low-flying magic carpet to reach Maureen's place of residence. Despite the short trip, Severus still looked disgruntled as they arrived.

"Market days, huh?" Hermione mumbled while she looked for the right doorbell to ring.

"Wouldn't dream of missing them," Severus grumbled, causing Hermione to let out a surprised laugh.

After being let in, climbing the stairs, and reaching Maureen's flat, the latter looked astonished when she opened the door and found Severus and Hermione standing there. "What's wrong," she immediately said. She glanced up and down the hall, before ushering them inside.

A small brown dog ran up to them, barking excitedly. It suddenly jumped up on Hermione, causing her to stagger back and bump into Severus. She wasn't used to dogs, and therefore cautious around them. The only dog she had grown up with was Padfoot - and he had obviously been incredibly well-behaved. Beside her, she felt Severus stiffen as well - especially when the dog turned its attention on him. Therefore, they both let out a small sigh of relief when Maureen locked the dog in a nearby room while apologising profusely.

Maureen led them to her living room and quickly served them tea. Her concerned frown continued to deepen as Hermione explained what had happened and played back the recording.

"Have you disclosed the temple's location to anyone else yet?" Hermione asked once Skeeter's voice had died away. She felt some of the tension leave her body when Maureen shook her head.

"Not yet, but I was going to, this Monday," Maureen replied, putting her cup down. "It's a tough decision to make. We need all the help we can get; our current team is too small to handle the excavation on our own. It's true that the Aurors were unable to find evidence of a mole within the NAWS. However, that still doesn't explain how your attackers were able to get their hands on a Heka Meter, as well as a possible dig site's location. It also doesn't explain how Skeeter knows about your parents' death-" She suddenly turned to Hermione, urgency clear in her voice, "-I want to impress upon you that it wasn't me, by the way." She sat forward. "Please believe me when I say that I would never betray your trust like that." The sincerity was clear in Maureen's voice.

"I didn't think you would," Hermione said.

Maureen sat back in relief.

"I can look into it," Severus suddenly offered from beside her.

Hermione glanced at him in surprise. "You really don't have to-"

"I want to," he told her with conviction. Something passed between them, causing Hermione to blush and look away. "Besides, this happens to directly affect me, as well."

Maureen looked at him in contemplation, then resignation crossed her features. "Alright," she sighed. "But be careful," she added warningly. She rose, and Hermione and Severus followed. "This stays between us for now," she told them solemnly. "Keep me posted."

As they stepped out into the busy crowd again, Hermione stumbled when sudden lightheadedness overtook her.

Severus' hand shot out to steady her. He swiftly steered her behind a stall, glaring at its merchant when the latter tried to protest. "Have you eaten anything today?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose when Hermione shook her head. "Foolish chit," he muttered under his breath, although the chide lacked any real conviction. He glanced around, then beckoned for her to follow, "come."

They wound up in a small café just off to the side of The Egyptian Marketplace. Hermione had been there before, and it had always struck her as charming. The café had a retro, 1920s vibe with its walnut detailing and matching furniture, beautiful cream panelled walls, and stained glass bay window up front. The left side of the café was lined with windows that let in golden beams of sunlight and from the ceiling hung multiple overflowing plant hangers. It was quite busy, but they managed to secure a small table for two somewhere at the back.

"Thank you," Hermione told Severus, as soon as they had ordered - her, shakshuka and a pot of Egyptian shai, him, a cup of Turkish coffee. Hermione realised she was actually famished as soon as they had entered the café and the delicious smell of hot food entered her nostrils.

Severus nodded in acknowledgement.

"Have you been here before?" Hermione asked him, realising his move to Cairo must have been quite recent.

"Once," he said. "Although it was far less busy."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "The Marketplace always gets like this around the weekends. I much prefer the Tuesday markets. There's actually room to browse," she said with a small smile.

"Shame we both work on Tuesdays," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth in response to hers.

Hermione reddened at the sight and felt relieved by the distraction of their drinks arriving. While Severus busied himself with preparing his coffee, Hermione took the opportunity to glance at him over the rim of her cup. Her previous conversation with Tarik played on her mind as she observed him - Severus. She still wasn't used to even mentally referring to him by that name. Although she also felt privileged that he allowed her ot. She still wondered why he had. She watched him take a careful sip from the ornate cup. Her eyes were drawn towards his dark lashes, that fluttered against his cheek as he drank. She felt a sudden, nervous flutter. low in her stomach. Hermione realised with a start that she thought him handsome. Perhaps not in the traditional way, but there was something… sculptural about his features. They reminded her of some of the men ancient Greek sculptors had liked to immortalise in marble. His strong nose and brow, especially. Shame he was disguised right now. Hermione quite liked his long raven hair and the infinite depth to his dark eyes too; they stood out starkly against his pale complexion. Her eyes drifted down towards his elegant hands and long, nimble fingers, which were currently wrapped around the coffee cup and its handle. She blinked slowly as he used them to lower the cup back down onto the saucer. Her eyes couldn't help but shoot up towards his lips as she noticed his tongue dart out to catch a stray droplet of coffee. She then got distracted by the movement of his hands again. She was fascinated by those hands. The way that they picked up his serviette and lifted it up towards his mouth to-

Hermione nearly dropped her cup in realisation. "Merlin's beard," she blurted out, reddening when Severus' eyes caught hers.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, frowning.

"No! I mean, no. I-I- just need the loo," she stuttered as she jumped up and hurried away. She felt Severus' eyes follow her until she disappeared from sight. Luckily, the loos were empty. She fled into the nearest stall and quickly locked the door behind her before lowering herself down onto the toilet's lid. "Shit," she muttered to herself as she buried her head into her hands. "Shit!"

Since when did she have feelings for Severus Snape?

Chapter Text

Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn

Indicative that suns go down;

The notice to the startled grass

That darkness is about to pass.

Severus turned back around once Hermione had disappeared from sight. He frowned down at his coffee. Perhaps she regretted taking him up on his offer of brunch. His frown turned into a scowl. He was a fool, really, for assuming Hermione wanted to spend any time with him. Everybody in his life always ended up abandoning him - his mum, his drunkard, good-for-naught father, Lily-

Lily. Severus blinked once. Lily had been the only person who had rarely been able to spoil his mood. The only person he had willingly spent prolonged amounts of time with. The only person he had felt even remotely happy to see.

A waiter approached. Severus' eyes followed his movements as he served the dish Hermione had ordered and left again. A quandary had been plaguing Severus for weeks now. Hermione definitely wasn't Lily, yet, he felt himself inexplicably drawn to her. Ever since his rift with Lily, he had no longer felt the need to pursue new friendships. Then why, as he had this morning, did he keep seeking out Hermione's company? It was truly incomprehensible; Hermione Granger was infuriatingly stubborn, a bothersome know-it-all, and a complete swot. So then why, when met with so much as a twinkle in her eyes, did he have to suppress the urge to smile himself?

He glowered at the empty seat opposite him. No. This had gone on long enough.

His glower didn't leave his face when a flushed Hermione slid back into her seat. It deepened, when she dug into her food without so much as acknowledging him. He wanted to leave, then - throw down his serviette, and walk away without so much as a goodbye. Infuriatingly, he remained frozen in his seat instead. He clenched his jaw when Hermione looked up to say something. She faltered, however, when confronted with his caustic demeanour. Was that hurt he saw, reflected in her chestnut eyes?

Merlin help him, because try as he might, Severus couldn't resist the urge. He cast a silent Legilimens to skim the surface of her thoughts. He was met with flashes. Fleeting images of his own features - his eyes, his nose, his jaw- He felt her eyes, lingering for an inexplicably long time on his own lips. He almost withdrew and started mentally berating himself for his intrusion when Hermione thought back to her time spent in the loo. He resisted though, when he realised that actually, she was just sitting on its closed lid. He felt her fingers, as if they were his own, digging into her scalp. He experienced the fluttering of her heart and the quickening of her breaths.

'Shit!' Hermione's voice echoed through Severus' head, 'when did I develop feelings for Severus Snape?'

Severus immediately withdrew and physically slammed back in his chair. What the hell? He quickly utilised his Occlumency to hide the complete bewilderment that must have been briefly visible on his face. How could he have been so completely, utterly wrong?

Hermione studied him with interest and slowly lowered her fork. "Is everything alright?"

Now it was his turn to fumble. He took his time before answering, ignoring the growing concern on Hermione's face. "Quite," he finally managed to bring out. "Just… heartburn," he added, making a show of shoving his coffee cup away from him.

Hermione looked unconvinced but nodded anyway, before returning to her breakfast with a slight frown.

While on the outside, it seemed Severus was waiting patiently for Hermione to finish her breakfast, on the inside, he was frantic. He needed to stay focused. Remain sharp. It was essential if he wanted a chance at locating the mole. Therefore, his current, incoherent jumble of thoughts and emotions simply wouldn't do. So while Hermione sipped at her tea while peering at him in slight confusion, mentally, Severus was busy shoving every one of his unhelpful thoughts and emotions into a big, hastily conjured chest labelled 'Hermione'. As soon as he had slammed its lid closed, he banished it to the furthest corner of his mind and surrounded it with wall, after wall, after wall of impenetrably obsidian.

Once he was sufficiently numb to everything pertaining to Hermione Jean Granger, finally, he was able to focus on having a conversation with her again.

As soon as their ways parted, Severus Apparated straight to the NAWS tent. Naturally, it was completely deserted on the weekend. He strode over to Maureen's office and slipped inside. Severus felt no remorse for breaking and entering. He needed to act discreet on the off chance Mrs. Harding was involved in this mess.

Once inside, he cast a calculating gaze around the office. If there was a mole within the NAWS, it was likely they had gotten their information from somwhere within the organisation. Mrs. Harding's office was small - barely large enough to fit the desk and two chairs that were crammed in there. With nowhere else to look, Severus went through Mrs. Harding's desk drawers first. Spare parchment, quills, ink... Where would Mrs. Harding keep the documentation on her subordinates? He drummed his fingers on the desk top while his keen eyes methodically scanned every square centimetre of the space. His eyes automatically skidded across the unassuming stretch of floor beneath the desk. Severus stilled. There.

He easily cancelled the Notice-me-Not Charm with a swish of his wand, before casting a well-aimed Revelio on the small square of floor. Severus moved the desk chair out of the way, before crouching down to take a closer look at the floor safe that had appeared. While still cloaked in dark shadows, it was at least visible to the naked eye now. A simple Alohomora was all it took to unlock it. After peering into the dark space, Severus tentatively reached his arm inside. His fingers only managed to brush the safe's cold metal bottom once he was submerged up to his armpit. It was clear Mrs. Harding had cast a rather generous Extension Charm on the safe. Severus took his arm out again.

"Accio Hermione Granger's file," he tried. On command, a manilla folder shot out and landed in front of his feet. "Excellent," he murmured to himself. He rose from the floor and placed the folder on the desk. The cursive script on the front read:

'Hermione Granger

-

Wizarding Archaeologist'

After opening the folder, Severus was first met with a filled out form. It contained Hermione's personal details: name, date of birth, place of residence, nationality, qualifications - not the information he was looking for. Severus turned to the next page. He encountered a small stack of parchment - Mrs. Harding's personal notes. Dates were written in the top right corners of the pages. Using those, Severus quickly scanned the most recent notes. In one, Mrs. Harding described how she strongly urged Hermione to take another week off work.

'Despite my insistence, Miss Granger remained stubborn as always. In the end, I was only able to convince her to take next Monday off. Perhaps forcing her to spend some time away from the temple will benefit her…'

Severus felt the corners of his mouth wanting to curve up. It was easy for him to imagine Hermione's reaction to someone daring to suggest that she take more than a single day off: arms crossed tightly and shaking her head, curls bouncing with the movement. She would probably be wearing a glower that rivalled his own.

As soon as he realised where his thoughts had strayed, Severus immediately utilised his Occlumency to force himself to get back to the task at hand. He continued leafing through the notes until he encountered ones taken at the end of October. That would have been right around the time Mrs. Harding had given her first presentation on the Temple of Per-Amu. He clearly remembered two things from that meeting: his own displeasure, and Hermione red-rimmed eyes as she left Mrs. Harding's office. He scanned the notes Mrs. Harding had written back then. Mrs. Harding was clever enough to avoid going into too much detail. There was one sentence, however, that drew Severus' attention:

'Miss Granger seems somewhat unstable due to the upcoming anniversary of her parents' murder.'

Severus tutted in disapproval and closed the folder with a snap. Sloppy.

He knew enough; if he was able to access the floor safe this easily, others within the NAWS could as well.

He removed all traces of his snooping before Apparating towards his next destination.

The canvas walls of the NAWS's tent billowed and bowed. Waves of sand thrashed against its fabric. The wind roared and howled like a wild beast. The out of season dust storm was truly picking up now.

Hermione's attention, however, was solely focused on the translations she was about to finish. Bent over a piece of parchment with curls splayed around her, she fervently scribbled down words. Due to autumn's early sunset and the storm raging outside, most of the tent was bathed in shadows - except for a small circle of light cast by the wildly flickering candle on Hermione's desk.

Severus paced the length of his room while mentally studying his list of NAWS employees. Frustration tore through him. He was hitting a dead end when it came to leads. Given the right incentive, theoretically any of his colleagues could have felt inclined to expose insider information.

Of course, he was aware that his next, most logical course of action would be to confront Rita Skeeter. If he was able to corner her, he could subject her to Legilimency or perhaps force-feed her Veritaserum and afterwards, rid her of the memory. Still, it could turn out to be a hazardous undertaking. Skeeter didn't strike him as the careless type. She was probably precautious - most likely used to dealing with many an incensed victim of her writing.

'Although,' Severus mused as he temporarily halted his pacing. Hermione had managed to ambush Skeeter in the Ministry's hallways. He quickly shook his head to tame his wandering thoughts.

Severus could take a more indirect route as well, by paying Rookwood and Yaxley a visit, for instance - still, that was quite a long shot. Who was to say that they were involved at all? Besides, Severus recalled neither Rookwood nor Yaxley being exactly discreet; at any point, they could have easily bragged to other Death Eaters about their vile deeds. Therefore, any of them could have approached Skeeter - or the other way around.

Discreet. Severus stopped in his tracks. Molly Weasley. He knew she was able to hold her tongue in general, but she had one fatal flaw in that department - her immediate family. When Severus had Legilimentised Bill Weasley, he remembered almost getting overwhelmed by strong surges of Mr. Weasley's all-encompassing guilt. It had actually made it much more difficult for Severus to navigate his mind. At the time, Severus had assumed the eldest Weasley child had simply felt guilty over his continued involvement with Gringotts Wizarding Bank - it was a logical conclusion to reach, especially when taking into account Mr. Weasley's earlier confrontation with Hermione. Now that Severus thought about it more deeply, however, the sheer intensity of his guilt hadn't matched up with the circumstances.

Perhaps it was time to pay Bill Weasley a visit. As luck would have it, Severus still had some Polyjuice Potion left over.

Hermione sat back in her chair and let out a relieved sigh. Finally, she had managed to finish her translations. She stretched out her stiff muscles while she looked over her work with satisfaction. Now, she was able to put the translations to rest and return to the temple on Monday. Butterflies started fluttering around in her stomach at the thought of who she would be spending her breaks with.

She had just cleaned up her desk, and was about to blow out her candle, when a pop of Apparition reached her ears. Startled, Hermione quickly whirled to face the footsteps that began moving towards her. Goosebumps spread across her arms while she squinted at the shadows. "Hello?" she asked loudly, although her voice was nearly drowned out by the whistling wind outside. She clutched her wand tightly as she waited for the newcomer to step into the light.

Wind tugged his hair in different directions as Severus, with his hands stuffed deep into his coat's pockets, walked down the Cornish seaside. His attention, however, wasn't focused on the sand that he was kicking up, nor on the choppy waves to his right or the gathering clouds above him. Instead, his eyes were fastened upon the redheaded man, slowly walking towards him. Bill Weasley.

Mr. Weasley paid not heed to Severus. Instead, he halted as his English Setter ran into the sea to fetch a lone piece of driftwood. Mr. Weasley seemingly couldn't suppress his fond chuckle, before he began trying to coax his disobedient dog back on land.

Severus discreetly peered around when he had almost reached Mr. Weasley. As luck would have it - most likely due to the bad weather forecast - the beach was empty, safe for them. "Can't resist the water, huh?" Severus said by way of greeting.

Mr. Weasley - who was trying to avoid the droplets flying around as a result of his dog shaking the water off - chuckled politely. "Never has. Figaro grew up on this beach. Guess I'm as much to blame for not training him properly."

Severus forced a smile when the dog barked happily, though it probably came off as more of a grimace. Merlin, how he hated dogs. "You live around here?" he asked in the most friendly tone of voice he could manage. Of course, Severus was privy to this information already. What Mr. Weasley didn't know, was that Severus had spent most of his afternoon observing Shell Cottage, patiently waiting for an opportunity to catch him alone.

Mr. Weasley nodded. He fastened the leash to the dog's collar before turning to leave. "I do. Speaking of, I'm going to head back. It's freezing." He stuck up his hand in greeting and started strolling away.

With Weasley's back turned to him, Severus swiftly drew his wand and pressed its tip into his back. "Not so fast, Mr. Weasley."

Mr. Weasley froze and slowly raised his hands. Figaro curiously looked up at his owner when he dropped his leash in the sand.

"Turn around," Severus commanded. "Slowly," he added warningly.

Mr. Weasley narrowed his eyes at him as soon as he was facing Severus again. "What do you want?" he asked in a low tone of voice.

"I'll cut straight to the chase; tell me what you know about Hermione Granger's parents', " Severus said, while he stepped closer. From beside them, Figaro started whining in distress.

Mr. Weasley glanced away, then quickly met his eyes again. "I only know what I've read in the Prophet."

"Liar," Severus hissed. He prodded Mr. Weasley's chest with his wand. He smiled wickedly when he saw Mr. Weasley's eyes widen slightly. "Do you think I am that easily fooled? Tell me the truth now, or I will find more - ah, creative - alternatives to asking nicely."

"I swear! I only found out about Hermione's parents' murder in this morning's Prophet!" Mr. Weasley said with slight panic in his voice.

He seemed to be telling the truth, but Severus hid his surprise with ease. Curiously, he still sensed Mr. Weasley was covering something up. "Be that as it may, I know for a fact that you're not telling me the whole truth," Severus purred. He inched even closer, now standing almost chest to chest with Mr. Weasley.

Figaro, in the meantime, had worked himself into quite a frenzy. He was anxiously circling the wizards and every so often released a distressed bark.

Sweat had started beading on Mr. Weasley's upper lip. "I- I don't know what you're talking about."

Severus slowly traced the tip of his wand up Mr. Weasley's chest, towards his neck and tracing his jaw, before halting at his temple. He made sure its tip dug uncomfortably into the delicate skin. "Is that so?" He uttered, before casting a silent Disarming Charm and easily catching the wizard's wand with his left hand.

Mr. Weasley suddenly lunged forward, catching Severus by surprise. They landed in the freezing sea with a loud splash, drenching them both instantly. Spluttering, Severus immediately tried to throw Mr. Weasley off, but the wolfish wizard was stronger than he had anticipated. Resorting back to magic, Severus cast a wordless Knockback Jinx instead. Mr. Weasley immediately flew off him and landed on his back harshly, while Severus quickly scrambled up while never taking his wand off him.

Slightly panting, Severus glared fiercely at Figaro, was absolutely losing his mind. He barked so piercingly, Severus cast a harmless Stunner on him. He turned his wand back on Mr. Weasley, who had begun swearing loudly.

"What the fuck do you want from me?!"

The wind truly started picking up now, and slowly but surely, an increasing amount of fat snowflakes started drifting from the sky and whirling all around them. Seawater leapt at Severus' boots as he looked down at the shivering Weasley. "Enough!" Severus growled. "Tell me what you know."

"Fine," Mr. Weasley finally acquiesced, while he raised his hand to shield his eyes from the falling snow. "It's a long story- so be patient!" he said with a cutting glare. "You're probably aware that I'm a Curse-Breaker working for Gringotts. Well, before short, we also worked together with this Wizarding Archaeology society in Egypt. It's called the NAWS - if that holds any meaning for you. I'd been working together with one of their 'male' Wizarding Archaeologists for about a week. That Friday, I figured I only had about a handful of curses to break. So, in the hopes of heading back to England sooner than thought, I headed in earlier than usual. Imagine my surprise when I walk in on that same Archaeologist snogging a lad. Luckily, he hadn't noticed me yet, so I quietly retreated and acted like I hadn't seen anything.

Cut to the end of that day, I was about to head home when I bumped into said Wizarding Archaeologist on my way out. My intention was to just drop it, never mention what I had witnessed anything. But you see, my sister-in-law recently found out she's queer as well, so I'm aware of how intolerant some people can be. So, I brought this up, thinking I could offer the lad some encouragement. As soon as the words left my lips, however, he started having a complete nervous breakdown. He kept telling me how he had been 'holding up his side of the bargain' and asking me 'what more Gringotts could possibly want from him'. I remember feeling at a complete loss for words - so I quickly backed away and left him be.

On my way back to England, I kept replaying his words over and over in my head. It just didn't sit right with me. So, instead of heading straight home, I approached the goblin that runs the Curse-Breaking Department. You see, he owes me a favour, and you know how goblins get when it comes to repaying favours. Therefore, after asking, he begrudgingly told me that Gringotts was fed up with their collaboration with the NAWS. Had been, for a long time. They apparently felt restricted by the agreements made and wanted out. That's why they hired some dodgy Cairene wizards and asked them to dig up whatever dirt they could find on the NAWS's employees, with the hopes of blackmailing that person into divulging insider's knowledge. This particular Wizarding Archaeologist drew the short straw I guess. Something about his family disapproving of his sexuality."

Severus shifted his weight impatiently. "That still doesn't explain how Skeeter found out about Hermione Granger's parents."

"Right," Mr. Weasley replied sheepishly. "I suppose that would be my fault."

Severus narrowed his eyes at him. "How so?" he asked in a low voice.

"Hermione has been absolutely hounding me to stop working for Gringotts, and although I am loathe to admit this to her, she does have a point. Especially now that I know they're blackmailing one of the NAWS's Wizarding Archaeologist."

"So why didn't you respond to the NAWS's vacancy?" Severus asked.

"Who are you again?" Mr. Weasley asked him in suspicion.

"Answer the bloody question," Severus replied threateningly, completely ignoring his inquiry.

"Because Gringotts would have my hide if I went to work for the NAWS while possessing this knowledge! It's become increasingly clear to me what lengths they're willing to go." He shook his head. "No, leaving is no longer an option."

"Then why didn't you contact law enforcement?" Severus asked with grit teeth, his patience was wearing thin.

"Because I was scared for my family! The goblins have spies everywhere. I suspect they're conspiring with the Cairene Aurors as well."

That actually did make sense to Severus. "So why Skeeter?" he ground out.

"I didn't contact Skeeter! I contacted the Cairo Gazette! I was hoping that with the help of an anonymous tip, they would expose the mole and all this would sort itself out. Somehow, Skeeter was the one who found out instead. I'm guessing that the Gazette sold my information to the highest bidder."

Severus was seething at this point. "You imbecile! Have you completely lost your mind?!"

Mr. Weasley looked away in defeat. "I know… I messed up."

"Clearly," Severus spat. "I have one last question," Severus said through grit teeth, "who is the mole?"

"His name is Tarik. Tarik Hamidi."

"Oh, it's just you," Hermione said in relief when Tarik stepped into the candlelight. She lowered her wand to place her hand over her hammering heart. "You frightened me, to be honest."

"Sorry," Tarik said. He looked around the empty tent. "What are you doing here on a Sunday?" He paused when his voice got drowned out by the sound of sand lashing against the tent's canvas walls. "And in the middle of a dust storm to boot?" he added when the sound had died down again.

Hermione sat back down and gestured for Tarik to pull up a chair as well. He shifted, but didn't oblige. "I could ask the same of you," Hermione said with raised eyebrow. She noticed he looked uncharacteristically tense. "Why don't you take a seat?" she asked, as she started rummaging around her bag. "I think I still have some tea left, actually."

"I've been looking all over for you," he said, wringing his hands. He accepted the cup she handed, but didn't make a move to drink from it.

"Why-"

"I need you to show me the Temple of Per-Amu," Tarik blurted out, cutting Hermione off.

"What-" she started asking in confusion.

"I mean," he drew in a deep breath before continuing, "Maureen sent me a Fwooper today, explaining that she was postponing the expansion of the team. She didn't elaborate. Do you know why?"

"Oh," Hermione said, carefully putting her mug down. "Well, you see-"

"Because I really- I mean, I would love to become a part of the team. You know how much I've been looking forward to it."

"Yes, I know. But Tarik?"

"Yes?"

"Can you stop interrupting me, please?" Hermione asked, releasing an uncomfortable laugh. She had never seen him act so off-kilter.

"Yes. Yes, of course." Tarik finally summoned a chair to perch on. Hermione noticed he looked solemn, as well as distressed.

"Is everything alright?" she asked carefully.

Tarik fell silent as his eyes searched hers. He slowly started reaching into his robes' pocket.

Hermione warily followed the movement with her eyes, then stiffened when he suddenly pulled out his wand. He pointed it at her. "What-" she started asking in stunned disbelief.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said in earnest. He sounded choked up and tears shone in his regret-filled eyes. He rose from his seat without taking his wand off her. His hand was trembling slightly. "I need you to take me to the temple now."

"Tarik," Hermione started saying pleadingly. Salty tears stung her eyes. "You're the mole, aren't you?" she softly said.

Tarik averted his eyes and didn't respond.

"I refuse to believe that you're doing this of your own volition," she asserted - partially to persuade herself. She leaned forward in an effort to try and get Tarik to meet her eyes again. "Allow me to help; I'm convinced we can work something out together."

He started shaking his head. His tears were flowing freely now. "They know, Hermione. They somehow found out about Kamal."

"Oh, Tarik," Hermione whispered, as she wiped her own tears with the back of her hand. "Who's they?" she asked after a short pause.

Tarik started shaking his head. He blinked furiously to avoid any more tears from falling. Something in his face hardened, causing Hermione to stiffen. "I can't tell you. I need you to get up now."

Hermione slowly obliged.

"As I said, I need you to take me to the temple," he said. His voice had turned business-like.

"I-I need my wand to Apparate," Hermione told him, gesturing towards her wand, which still lay on her desk. Although it pained her to even think about it, perhaps she could stun him once she was able to get hold of it.

Tarik, however, shook his head. "Out of the question. I've brought a carpet, as I know how much you hate brooms," he said with a bittersweet smile. He quickly snatched up Hermione's wand and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Flying?!" Hermione asked, gaping at him. "In this weather? You'll kill us both!"

"My father will kill me anyway if he ever finds out," Tarik said, sounding grave. "And either way, if he doesn't succeed, the authorities will throw both me and Kamal in prison."

Right. It now made sense why she wasn't able to change his mind. She glanced at his wand, then back up at Tarik. Would he truly harm her if she resisted? "No. I refuse," she said. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms in defiance.

Panic shone in Tarik's eyes. "Hermione…" he began saying, his voice gaining a pleading tone.

Hermione shook her head. "I refuse to believe you're capable of harming me." She stuck out her hand with the palm turned up. "Hand me back my wand. Now."

"No- Incarcerous!"

Thick ropes came into existence and wrapped themselves tightly around Hermione's torso, trapping her arms and causing her to lose her balance. She fell onto her knees with a loud, painful thud, before almost tipping forward. "What the hell, Tarik!" Hermione cried out, panting while she tried to loosen the tight ropes. They were constricting her chest and preventing her from drawing in a full breath.

"That's enough." A severe voice suddenly rose up from behind Tarik.

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed in pleased surprise. Intense relief coursed through her.

Before Tarik could so much as blink, Severus had cast his own Incarcerous Spell on him.

Hermione quickly shuffled out of the way when Tarik nearly hit her as he began falling forward.

Severus immediately cancelled the spell Tarik had cast on her and offered her his hand. As soon as she accepted it, he pulled her up with ease. "Thank Merlin," Hermione muttered, as she got back on her feet. She snatched her wand from Tarik's pocket and also wrenched his own from his hand before quickly stepping away from him.

Meanwhile, Tarik had started cursing loudly in Arabic while he writhed around on the ground in an attempt to manoeuvre himself into a seated position.

Hermione looked down and suddenly realised she was still clutching Severus' freezing hand. She quickly let go. She took in his appearance and realised he was drenched, shivering, and covered in sand. Without giving it any further thought, she threw a Hot Air Charm his way.

Severus looked at her in surprise, but she only offered him a small smile before turning her attention back to Tarik. The smile fell from her face however, as she watched Tarik writhing around on the ground. "I can't believe Tarik's the mole," she muttered dejectedly. She cast a silent Lumos, and tugged on Severus' sleeve, wordlessly indicating for him to follow her. They halted as soon as they were out of Tarik's earshot.

"What happened?" he asked her immediately. "Why are you here on a Sunday? I've been looking all over for you."

"Oh, that," she said, fidgeting with her wand as she felt her cheeks heat. "I desperately wanted to finish the translations. I was about to head back when Tarik suddenly turned up. Out of nowhere, he started demanding I divulged the temple's location to him. Did you manage to find out who's blackmailing him?"

Severus grimaced and nodded. "Gringotts is."

"No," Hermione gasped, glancing back at Tarik. He had finally managed to sit upright and hung his head dejectedly. "I know we should inform Maureen of this, but…" She shook his head. "He'll lose his job and his father will literally kill him if he finds out Tarik isn't straight. Nothing about this feels fair."

To Hermione's slight surprise, Severus nodded. "I agree, it isn't."

Heart rate accelerating, Hermione stepped closer and held Severus' dark gaze. "What are you proposing?" she whispered.

"There's this old Order safehouse," he murmured.

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She felt reverent, as she beheld the determined set of his mouth and took in his severe looking eyes. She realised that this was the true Severus - whatever it took, whatever it cost him, in the end, he always ended up doing the right thing. A shiver passed through her as she let that fact sink in. "Severus," his name escaped her like an exhale. She allowed the light of her wand to sputter out as she stepped closer.

He froze when Hermione reached up ever so slowly and carefully tucked a stray lock of damp hair behind his ear. When he didn't move, she leaned forward - came so near that their breaths mingled. Softly, her lips touched his cold cheek as she pressed a featherlight, but lingering kiss to it. Severus let out a small gasp at the contact and a shiver passed through him. He smelled like a winter's day, and tasted of the sea. "Thank you," she breathed against his cheek, before she drew back, blushing heavily.

Severus seemed completely lost for words, so Hermione allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts. She walked back over to Tarik to relay what Severus had told her.

Just as Severus had taken over from her and got busy vanishing the ropes, did the muffled sound of Hermione's ringtone reach their ears. Hermione felt his eyes on her as she anxiously hurried over and quickly retrieved her mobile from her bag. 'Harry,' the small letters on its screen read. She immediately flipped it open to answer the call.

"Hermione," Harry said, as soon as the call connected. His voice sounded hollow, devoid of life. "It's James. It's- it's not looking good. We're taking him home this evening, so he can- so he can-" he apparently couldn't continue.

Hermione let herself fall into her chair and stared unseeingly at the woodgrain of her desktop. Tears started blurring its details. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. "How-" her voice cracked. "Did they say how- how long he ha-has left?"

A long pause followed, before he finally whispered, "less than a week."

Chapter Text

"Do you have to depart right away?" Severus asked from behind her.

Hermione was looking down at her tightly clenched fists and said nothing. Harry's words kept playing over and over in her head, repeating so often that they had almost lost all meaning to her:

'It's James.

We're taking him home this evening so he can-

It's- it's not looking good.

Less than a week.

Less than a week.

Less than a-'

"Hermione?"

She looked up into Severus' concerned eyes. She blinked rapidly to get rid of her tears. "Yes?" she mumbled.

"Do you have to depart right away?" he asked again.

"Oh, uh…" She racked her brain to try and come up with an answer. Harry had said they were taking James home this evening, so… She shook her head no.

Severus gave a careful nod before righting himself. His hand - which Hermione had only just noticed resting there - didn't leave her shoulder. He looked at something behind her back and Hermione turned to follow his line of sight.

Arms crossed, a frowning Tarik was awkwardly leaning against one of the nearby desks. He looked their way when he felt their eyes resting on him and swallowed nervously. "Is James-?" he began, concern entering his eyes.

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. In a flash, searing anger surged through her, and she didn't even attempt to not give into it. Hell - Hermione figured that, right then, anger was a lot easier to give into, especially compared to the despair she had been feeling right up until that point. So, she jumped up from her chair, ignoring Severus' small scoff as she narrowly missed his toes. "No, he's not okay," she hissed, as she began charging at him. As soon as she reached him, she delivered a well-aimed kick to his left shin. "How fucking dare you!" she screamed.

Tarik let out a surprised yell of pain before quickly jumping out of the way as Hermione drew back her leg again. "Ow! What the hell, Hermione!"

"That's for telling Rita bloody Skeeter about James!" she shouted.

Tarik winced.

Hermione's hand made contact with his arm. "And that's for telling her about my parents!" She quickly drew her wand and pointed it at his chest, ignoring Severus' weak and insincere-sounding pleas for her to stop. "You could've gone to Maureen, me, even Severus," she said, as she gestured the latter's way. "I can't believe-" Hermione felt herself choke up and shook her head in an attempt to get rid of it before continuing, "you know I would've done everything in my power to help you if the roles were reversed." Gradually, Hermione felt the fight leaving her body. Her shoulders slumped, and she allowed her arm fall to the wayside. "You betrayed my trust," she said quietly, before turning away from him to lean on a nearby desk, her nails digging into its surface.

"Hermione-" Tarik began saying.

"We need to go," Severus interjected.

"Right," Tarik said, sounding dejected. His face fell and he hung his head. "Right."

This time it was Severus who called her name. When Hermione looked up in response, he gestured for her to come over. She obliged, and as soon as she reached him, he steered her out of Tarik's ear-shot. After a brief moment of hesitation, he cast Muffliato for good measure.

He grabbed both of her arms firmly. His eyes bore into hers as he spoke, "it is of the utmost importance that you wait for my return before heading to London. I will do my best to be quick about Mr. Hamidi's drop-off at the safe house."

"I will," Hermione uttered sincerely. She tried to smile at him, but it immediately turned into a grimace.

Severus gave her a nod. "Good." He seemed to hesitate briefly and almost stepped closer, but stopped himself at the last second. "Send me a Patronus if the situation gets dire," he finally settled on. "Go home. Get some rest. I'll be back within two hours." He let go of her, stepped away, and cancelled the spell, before striding back over towards Tarik.

Hermione stared at the spot Severus had just vacated. She hadn't realised how much his hands had steadied her until he was gone. Rubbing her arms, she turned to watch Severus grab Tarik's arm semi-roughly. The former was still looking apologetic. He glanced her way one last time, before Severus Disapparated with him in tow.

Of course, Hermione didn't take Severus' suggestion to get some rest; in fact, she spent the time she had to wait restlessly pacing up and down the length of her room. In that time, she mentally ran through every possible scenario that could occur, and formulated a step-by-step plan accordingly. She relied on that plan; would use it as her crutch, really. As long as she could stay grounded, not let distracting emotions get the better of her, and methodically follow each of its step, Hermione figured everything would turn out alright. This was how she had survived her days of Horcrux-hunting, and this was how she would survive the coming hours as well.

With that sorted, all she had to do was wait for two wizards - Harry, who had promised to message her as soon as she could come over, and Severus, who was the only one who had access to the spell she needed.

Hermione had recounted her plan thrice more when Severus finally knocked on her door. She flew towards it, wrenched it open to look at him expectantly.

Severus looked grim, as well as tired. With a jerk of his head, he wordlessly indicated for her to come along. Together, they hurried through the narrow halls.

As soon as he closed the door to his room, Hermione inquired after Tarik.

"He's safe. Skeeter nor Gringotts' goblins will be able to find him. I made sure of it." He strode over to his desk, opened the bottommost drawer and pulled out several pieces of parchment, as well as the now familiar ancient wand.

Hermione drew closer to eye the wand. "Do you think the spell alone won't suffice?" she asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

"I'm not sure," Severus admitted. He dragged a hand through his tangled hair and released a sigh. "I know how much you loath the mere thought of imperilling ancient artefacts-" he started saying wryly.

Hermione shook her head as she looked askance at the ancient wand. "What are tools and objects of bygone civilisation compared to the lives of those we love?"

Severus' mouth snapped shut. He looked at her with barely hidden surprise. Something in his eyes softened slightly. "Indeed," he said after a short pause, before sliding the parchments over to Hermione. "According to the translation, you need to cast the spell while simultaneously performing a ritual of sorts. We do not know if the spell works without it. I contemplated leaving out the ritual in favour of purely relying in the spell, but ended up deciding against it. I've described it on the second page. It consists of many parts." He went on to describe each step.

Despite her growing nerves, Hermione forced herself to listen closely. Severus was right. The ritual was long, as well as complex. "I'll do my best," Hermione said after Severus was done explaining - partially to convince him, but mostly to convince herself.

"While I am sure you will, even those with the best intentions are bound to make mistakes with a ritual such as this, especially when distraught. I quickly came to the conclusion that two are needed to perform the ritual."

Hermione blinked up at him. Was he suggesting…

"I am," Severus said, answering the unspoken question that was clearly written across her face. "By now, I've become intimately familiar with the ritual. I'd wager I could recite its steps by heart if pressed. Therefore, I've decided to join you." It seemed he had already made up his mind. Arguing seemed futile.

Hermione tried anyway, "but- but this is Harry's son we're talking about."

"I'm aware," Severus drawled.

"They reside at 12 Grimmauld Place, and Harry will definitely be there as well. I can ask him-"

"Hermione," Severus interrupted, "rest assured, I will manage." Humour briefly flickered in his eyes.

Their eyes locked, and a silent battle of wills passed between them. Severus raised an eyebrow, silently challenging her to continue her protesting. Hermione wanted to take the bait, get rid off some of her nervous energy that way, but ended up deciding against it. She backed down with a huff and a muttered, "fine", which was followed by a half-hearted "prick", when she noticed Severus' self-satisfied smirk.

"Right," Severus said, while raking a hand through his hair, "I'm going to take a shower. I'll be back shortly."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. While she didn't want Severus to leave in case Harry would message, she could also understand he wanted to wash away the sand that was clearly still clinging to his skin and hair. She frowned. "Why are you covered in sand anyway?" she asked, just as he was about to leave.

Severus looked back at her. "Evidently, It's due to a delightful afternoon, spent by the seaside," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hermione blinked at him. "Surely not… Shell Cottage?"

Severus gave a curt nod, before leaving her to her thoughts.

Hermione stared at the translation that lay before her without actually reading it. So that's how Severus had found out about Gringotts' blackmailing of Tarik. She wondered in which capacity Bill was involved. She would have to ask Severus for more details at a later date. She scowled at the wall opposite her. Whatever Bill had done now, Hermione certainly wasn't above travelling all the way to Cornwall just to tear him a new one. She did wonder how the conversation between Severus and Bill had gone. Severus had been covered in sand and seemingly drenched in seawater. Perhaps something had gone down between them. She was glad Severus appeared unharmed. As for Bill's state of being… she found that she didn't care much.

Hermione forced herself to focus on the contents of Severus' translation. In total, it was three pages long, both sides covered top to bottom in Severus' spidery scrawl. She imagined the translation would have taken him days. Her eyes were drawn to what appeared to be a potion recipe. It made sense, as the ancient Egyptians used them for healing purposes all the time. She scanned the long and at times bizarre list of ingredients. How on earth had Severus managed to acquire Nundu hair for example? Hermione's heart fluttered as she imagined the amount of work this must have taken him. As she kept on reading his description of the ritual, this only became more evident.

As soon as Severus returned, Hermione flew from her seat. "Severus-" Hermione began saying, her voice heavy with emotion. "This must have taken you so long to prepare. I- Thank you," she said sincerely. There was so much more she wanted to say, so much more she wanted to do, but she purposefully held back.

She could swear that emotions similar to hers crossed his features. "Hermione-" he began saying, his dark eyes filled with emotion, brows furrowed.

Hermione shook her head as if to say: 'Not right now'. She forced herself to step back, when all she wanted to do was step forward instead. Her body was buzzing and her skin was tingling, desperately craving for him to reach out and touch her. This had definitely not been part of her plan. "Let's head over to Grimmauld Place," she managed to bring out, before quickly skirting around him to grab her coat.

Severus paused as several emotions played out on his face. Finally, he nodded, and started gathering everything they would need.

Harry had messaged Hermione at the Egyptian Portkey Office, so Severus and her arrived at Grimmauld Place in record time. They waited in anxious silence as the cold November wind whipped around them, biting at their exposed skin. When Harry finally answered the door, his surprise was clearly written across his face, as he was met not only by Hermione, but a disguised Severus as well. "Who-" Harry began saying, while his eyes confusedly shifted back and forth between them. He didn't have time to finish his sentence, however, because Hermione stepped forward to envelop him in a crushing embrace that nearly knocked the wind out of him, while Severus swept past without comment.

"It's Severus," Hermione whispered into Harry's ear before she let go of him. "We'll explain inside."

For a moment, Harry's tired eyes blinked at her from behind his glasses, before he gave a short nod and closed the door behind them. "Right," he only said, before following Severus down the hall with Hermione on his heels.

When they reached the drawing room, Harry went to fetch Ginny while Hermione lowered herself down onto the sofa. Severus strode over to the hearth and turned his back to the room in favour of staring into the roaring flames. His hands were clutched tightly behind his back. While he waited, he remained frozen. The only movement he made, was the subtle wave of his right hand, which served to remove his disguise.

Hermione chanced a look at him from the corner of her eye. He looked statuesque. She guessed he was heavily Occluding, and could only imagine the kinds of memories that had been brought up by seeing Harry again. She felt the urge to walk over to him and stand by his side. To offer him support, perhaps touch the back of his hand soothingly. She resisted, however. Who knew what else was going through his head right now? Hermione tore her eyes from Severus' rigid form when Ginny's voice reached her ears.

"Hermione," Ginny only said. She looked extremely pale. Dark circles marred her pale face and her brown eyes held a haunted look. Her lips were chapped and lacked colour. She seemed to have lost some weight as well.

Harry, who popped up behind her, looked similar to his wife - dead on his feet and more drained than Hermione had ever seen him.

Hermione quickly rose and took Ginny's hand to guide her over to her spot on the sofa. She didn't let go of her hand and gestured for Harry to take a seat as well. He slumped down into an armchair. "We have something to discuss with you. I'll try to keep it brief," Hermione told them both, before she launched into the explanation of her and Severus' plan. Severus still hadn't moved from his position once she was finished.

Harry looked from Hermione to Severus and back, while Ginny searched Hermione's eyes.

"An ancient ritual," Ginny began saying slowly. "One you stumbled upon during the excavation of an ancient temple…" She frowned, then looked away. "I don't know Hermione. It seems like such a long shot."

"I realise that," Hermione said, worrying her bottom lip, "but the way I see it, there's no harm in trying either."

"I-" Ginny seemed conflicted, she glanced at Harry before gently removing her hand from Hermione's hold. She patted it weakly. "I think…" she began. Resignation entered her eyes. "No, I know James has suffered enough." A tense silence filled the drawing room, causing everybody - expect for Severus - to start when the fire released a loud pop. Ginny seemed to deflate as she continued, "it's been- incredibly tough to make peace with his- his fate. We've gotten our hopes up so many times… If this doesn't work out- I-"

Severus finally whirled around and levelled Ginny with a stare. She cut herself off to stare back at him defiantly. "You fool," Severus hissed at her, "don't you realise that Hermione is offering you a chance to save your son's life?"

"Severus!" Hermione exclaimed, as her hand flew to her mouth in shock.

Harry jumped up. "Don't speak to my wife like that!" he shouted, drawing his wand in one smooth motion. "You have no right-"

Severus levelled a glare at him and stepped forward.

"Enough!" Hermione yelled, jumping up from the sofa to position herself between Severus and Harry. This was getting out of hand fast. Once she had made sure Severus and Harry wouldn't murder each other on the spot, she turned to Ginny again, who was now staring daggers at her former Potions Professor. "Please, I realise this may be a long shot, but could you truly live with yourselves if you haven't exhausted every possible option to save James' life? Severus made sure-"

Ginny, however, began vehemently shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's a no from me. I don't want James to suffer any longer."

"What?" Hermione whispered in utter disbelief. This was not how it was supposed to go. Sure, she had foreseen some scepticism, but had always believed she would be able to convince Harry and Ginny in the end. Hermione turned to Harry instead, pleading with him silently.

Harry looked conflicted. "He's very weak, Hermione, what if the spell or the potion harms him in some way. What if the ritual… kills him?"

"But what if it saves his life? What if it activates his magic? Have you truly thought this through? No more cancer, forever! He- he could even attend Hogwarts! " Hermione glanced around in desperation when nobody responded. "No…" she started saying, "no, he's my godson, too. You can't just let him die like this. You can't just watch him wither away without doing nothing."

Harry stepped forward wearing a pained expression. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked at her pityingly. "I know it's hard to accept, Hermione, but the doctors said it's best if we try to come to terms with the fact that James is going to… die." A strangled cry escaped Ginny, and Harry swallowed heavily before continuing. "We'd like to soak up the days we have left with him. Let's put this to rest. Please?"

Hermione faltered as she took in Harry's resigned features and listened to Ginny's stifled sobs. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but only a choked noise came out. She startled when Severus rumbling voice rose up from behind her.

"Mr. Potter," he said, failing to keep the fury out of his voice. "I urge you to reconsider."

Ginny suddenly jumped to her feet. Her eyes flashed as magic crackled through the air. "And I urge you to leave my house, Snape," she said in a low voice, while she pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Harry may have forgiven you for how you've treated him in the past, but I never will."

"No," Hermione breathed, incredulity clear in her voice. She staggered back several steps, causing her to bump into Severus' chest, who grabbed hold of her shoulders to steady her. "Severus was the one who did the translation, he was the one who brewed the potion and prepared everything for the ritual, and that's beside the point! This is about James. Believe me when I say that you'll come to regret it if you don't do everything in your power to save his life!"

"I… concur," Severus murmured from behind her.

Harry held Severus' eyes for a long while. They seemed to be communicating silently. Whatever passed between them caused Harry's resolve to waver slightly. As soon as she noticed this, Hermione desperately rushed forward and took both of Harry's hands, willing him to look at her instead. "If James shows any signs of distress, we'll stop. I promise. The potion is harmless, really. Severus told me it's similar to a modified Regenerative Potion." She looked back at Severus, who gave a small nod in confirmation, before turning back to Harry again. "The ritual consists of some noise-making, drawing a line in the sand, that kind of stuff. I'm not even sure all that is needed, but I do know that it's all harmless."

Harry glanced over at Ginny, who was still glaring at Severus. "Fine," she said through grit teeth. "But if James shows any signs of distress, you will stop immediately and summon a healer."

Hermione felt her knees nearly buckle in relief and nodded frantically. "Yes, of course. Of course! Severus is skilled in healing magic as well. James is in safe hands, I promise."

Ginny shot her a disbelieving look before turning her attention back to Severus. She drew her wand and crossed the room. Her face was twisted with the contempt she felt for him. "If you harm James in any way-" she began saying in a low, threatening voice.

Severus sneered at her while slowly raising his wand as well. "Then… what?" he drawled silkily.

"He won't!" Hermione quickly said. She hurried over to the brown leather doctors bag they had brought with them and tugged on Severus' sleeve to follow her. He did so with reluctance and not before shooting a final glower Ginny's way, who was held back from charging at him by Harry.

Hermione led the way to James' bedroom, which was located on the second floor. As soon as they arrived at his door, Hermione reached out with a trembling hand to open it.

Severus caught her hand in his just before she was able to reach the doorhandle. "Breathe," he said in a commanding tone of voice and with clenched jaw. Some of the tension left his face. "Breathe, Hermione," he repeated more gently after a moment, using his thumb to rub slow circles on the back of her hand.

Hermione met his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Good," he said, when he felt her trembling subside.

"One step at a time," Hermione murmured to herself.

"Exactly," Severus said, before letting go of her hand. He opened the door and gestured for Hermione to go in first, before noiselessly sweeping in after her and closing the door behind them with a soft click.

James' room was bathed in darkness and Hermione had to blink several times to get her eyes used to the absence of light. She cast a very weak Lumos before slowly approaching James' cot. Luckily, he was still fast asleep. She gently righted the oxygen mask he was wearing and carefully stroked his gaunt, ghostly pale cheek. She couldn't believe how fragile he looked. All she wanted to do was scoop him into her arms and physically protect him from the cancer that was clearly wreaking havoc on his body. Hermione sent a quick prayer to every God and deity that she knew, silently asking them to helpSeverus and her succeed.

Behind her, the rustling of Severus' robes filled the room as he started conjuring and distributing orbs of light around the room.

Hermione took a couple of deep breaths, before forcing herself to step away from James, and set to unpacking the bag they had brought. Using James' dresser, she spread out everything they would need: The crimson coloured potion, carefully wrapped ancient wand, Severus' translation, several musical instruments, and the other remaining attributes they would need to perform the ritual.

Once the room was bathed in soft, even yellow light, Severus joined in with her preparations. He carefully levitated James' cot into the middle of the room and started scattering the desert sand they had brought to form a broad circle around it.

Hermione, in the meantime, read through the spell again and tried to commit its words to memory.

Severus approached her again and reached for the wand, which he then carefully unwrapped. He pressed it into her hand. "It's time," he whispered. He gestured for her to approach the circle of sand he had made, which she did. "You know what to do?" he asked. At Hermione's nod, he continued, "I'll spell the Regenerative Potion into the boy's stomach first. On my mark, start reciting the spell. You need to keep repeating the words until the whole ritual has been finished. I'll take care of the rest." He glanced around to check if everything was ready. "Whatever happens, keep chanting until I tell you to stop," he added warningly.

"Alright," Hermione whispered back. Remembering Severus' previous instructions again, she took a couple of deep breaths to try to steady her rapidly mounting nerves.

Severus slowly approached James with the uncorked potion bottle in hand. He raised his wand and pointed at James' stomach. "Ready?" Severus asked her. At Hermione's nod, he waved his wand and the potion disappeared from the bottle, into James' stomach. With another wave of his wand, a low, rhythmic drumming sound started filling the room. It was quickly accompanied by a dull rattling sound.

Hermione took a deep breath, then started reading the ancient Egyptian spell aloud. Its syllables felt foreign in her mouth - although Ancient Egyptian was a language she had become intimately familiar with, it was one she rarely spoke out loud. That's why the words came out haltingly at first. Despite her mounting frustration, Hermione kept persevering. She tried to read the text to the rhythm the instruments produced. This seemed to help.

"Now," Severus told her, once it seemed she had gotten the hang of it, "channel your magic into the wand."

Hermione did as Severus suggested and tried to imagine holding her own vine wand, instead of the foreign curved ivory one. She crouched down without taking her eyes from the parchment and used the ancient wand to slowly start drawing a circle in the sand spread out around James' cot. She moved slowly and carefully, afraid she might mispronounce a word or trip. Hermione couldn't suppress a shiver when a low buzzing sound started to fill the room as she continued dragging the wand's tip through the sand. She felt her skin start tingling as she called on Isis' power of healing; her magic answer as she asked Mut-Sekhmet-Bast for protection. The spell's words were rolling off her tongue with relative ease now, and she noticed she had unconsciously begun almost singing, instead of speaking them.

James' eyes suddenly flew open. He gasped loudly, then exhaled with a rattling breath. Severus swiftly stepped forward, careful not to disturb the line Hermione had drawn, and started drawing symbols on the boy's skin with fragrant honey. James' unseeing eyes indicated he clearly wasn't conscious. Still, he started squirmed around in his cot as soon as the sticky substance touched him.

Hermione, in the meantime, had finished drawing the line and approached the other side of James' bed. Continuing her chanting, she fixed her eyes upon James' rising and falling chest to check if he was still breathing. The amount of magic she was expanding began to take its toll and she looked up at Severus in question, who was in the process of drawing symbols on James' leg. He gestured for her to keep going, so Hermione persevered.

As soon as Severus drew back, James stopped his writhing, and his eyes slowly drifted closed again. Hermione noticed the boy's breathing became more laboured, its rattling sound louder. She furrowed her brows in worry and looked to Severus in question. He nodded and lifted his wand. The sounds the instruments produced became louder, their rythm, faster, and the metal jingling of a tambourine was added into the mix. Hermione was forced to raise her voice to drown out the noise.

Severus waited a moment before he shouted, "Now, Hermione! Press the wand to his chest and channel your magic!"

Hermione lifted the ancient wand with shaking hands and waited for Severus to expose James' chest, before pressing its ivory tip against his skin, right overtop his heart. She knew she didn't imagine it, when she felt the steady beat of James' heart vibrate through the wand. Hermione felt sweat bead on her forehead. It took all of her willpower to keep on chanting as the music swelled. Gathering up the last dredges of her magic, she pushed it all into the wand, while desperately gasping for air in between every sentence she chanted.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, James' eyes and mount flew open and released an ear-piercing scream. It became louder and louder.

Hermione almost drew back in fright, Harry's and Ginny's words about James' suffering still echoing through her head. Panicked, her eyes flew towards Severus.

"Keep chanting!" Severus only shouted as he took both of James' shoulders to hold the boy in place.

Tears streamed down Hermione's cheeks as she was forced to continue listening to her godson's gut wrenching screams. She didn't know if he was in pain, didn't know if they were harming him in some way. Hermione focused on the steady beat of James' heart in the palm of her hand. It was the anchor that she desperately clutched to in order to keep repeating the spell.

"Almost!" Severus said as James' screams finally began to die down.

Hermione was on her last legs, and leaning heavily on the cot's railing. Fear gripped her as she felt James' heart rate begin to slow down. It didn't stop slowing. It slowed and slowed until- Hermione widened her eyes at Severus.

"Finish the spell!" he only said, grabbing her hand when it almost slipped from the railing. He skirted around the cot and allowed her to lean on him instead. "Almost there," he whispered into her hair. "You can do it, you're almost there."

Hermione was gasping for air by the time she reached the last sentence. She had to force the syllables out. Once she was done, she lowered the parchment and took the wand from James' chest with trembling hands.

Severus wordlessly killed the music, causing an eerie silence to descend upon the room. With bated breath, they both looked down at James' limp form.

"His heart," Hermione said. Her panic was quickly mounting. "I felt it beating through the wand. Near the end, however, it began slowing down."

Severus frowned and waved his wand while muttering what Hermione assumed were diagnostic spells. A projection of James' heart came into view. To Hermione's untrained eye it seemed to beating, albeit very slowly. "He's still alive," Severus said after a moment. Hermione could almost hear him leave out the word 'barely'. "Give it some time," he only said, when she looked at him accusingly.

"Merlin, what have we done?" Hermione said. "What if we've-"

Then, James gasped for air. His eyes flew open, while his hand reached for his chest.

"James!" Hermione exclaimed in relief. "He's alright! He's alright isn't he?" she asked Severus. She quickly lowered the cot's railing and sunk to her knees next to the cot. "I'm so glad we didn't kill him," she said, laughing through her tears, while she rubbed James' chest.

"Indeed," Severus drawled. He strode over to the door and threw it open, revealing an incensed Harry and Ginny.

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU LOCK THE DOOR?!" Ginny screamed in Severus' face. She ran to James' bedside and quickly lifted him out of the cot. "You promised!" she said, pointing at Hermione accusingly. "You promised that you would stop if James became distressed!"

Hermione slowly rose from her crouched position and studied Severus' unapologetic expression. So that was why Ginny and Harry hadn't stormed in the room when James had started screaming. "I-" she began saying.

Severus, however, beat her to it. "We were at a crucial stage of the ritual. If we would've broken it off at any point, the results could have been disastrous. Besides, James wasn't showing any signs of pain."

"HE WAS SCREAMING HIS LUNGS OUT!" Ginny roared, while she handed a now crying James to Harry. The latter looked angry as well, but not apoplectic like Ginny, who was in the process of drawing her wand again. She pointed it at Severus first. "I want you out!" she screamed. She whirled towards Hermione. "Both of you," she added in a low, shaking voice.

Hermione slowly walked over to Severus side. "Ginny," she said pleadingly. She sounded drained. "James survived the ritual, it may have even worked. Isn't that what counts?"

"No, it isn't!" Ginny screamed. She became distracted, however, when Harry gasped.

Everybody turned their attention to James, who was still crying, but suddenly, had a full mop of brown hair.

"What in Merlin's name…" Ginny muttered as she approached her husband and son.

"Accidental magic," Severus muttered under his breath. He exchanged a look with Hermione.

She suddenly recalled Harry once telling her how his hair had magically grown back overnight after his aunt had cut it off. "So that means…" Hermione began saying. She stepped forward, not quite believing what she was seeing.

"It means it worked!" Harry exclaimed. "It bloody worked!"

"Tests still need to be run," Severus said in warning, although Hermione noticed some of the tension leaving his face.

Ginny looked doubtful as she tentatively ran her hand through James' hair. "How are you feeling?" she asked the sniffling James softly, but he didn't answer.

"You need to bring him to hospital," Hermione said, although she couldn't suppress her smile.

"We can't take him to Royal Marsden, though," Harry objected. "Unless we shave his head."

Ginny gasped in horror. "We will do no such thing!"

"St Mungo's it is, then."

Hermione felt Severus stiffen beside her. While Ginny got busy getting James ready, Hermione shared a long look with Severus. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

Severus pursed his lips and shook his head. "Later," he muttered. He was about to open his mouth to say something else, when Hermione was tackled into a bone-crushing hug.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in weak protest, laughing. Finally, she felt the relief she was anticipating start coursing through her body. It was a heady feeling, which caused her to release another laugh.

"You've saved his life," Harry said, his voice muffled by her hair. "Thank you," he said sincerely, as he drew back. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. He turned to Severus. "You too," he told him, "thank you, for saving my son's life."

Severus only gave him a curt nod, before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Smiling to herself, Hermione slowly began gathering up the equipment they had used while she pondered Severus' reaction. It felt like she was moving through molasses, and her thoughts were sluggish. She realised the ritual had completely drained her - both mentally and physically. As she picked up the empty potions bottle from the ground, Hermione recalled the words that had made Severus freeze: 'St Mungo's it is, then.' Hermione gasped in realisation, causing her to drop the potions bottle to the ground, which immediately shattered on impact. Severus had warned her about the ramifications such a spell could have. A Squib that had inexplicably become a wizard; Hermione was convinced that the news would spread like wildfire. She also didn't doubt that sooner rather than later, the wizarding community would discover that this faceless former Squib was, in all actuality, Harry Potter's son. This could be traced back to Hermione and Severus, she realised with a start, and if that happened, the consequences could become disastrous.

Hermione frantically gathered up the last of her magic. She used it to release a Packing Spell on the remainder of the items. They flew pell-mell into the doctors bag, before she quickly picked it up.

"Harry," she called out, who ambled over to her wearing a big grin. "Harry," she repeated, taking his shoulder and boring her eyes into his. His smile fell as he took in her severe facial features. "Do not mention anything to the healers about what's happened here."

A look of understanding crossed Harry's face. "Of course," he said with a nod. "Our lips are sealed."

"Good," Hermione only said. She barely took the time to shift the bag into to her other hand, before hurrying out of the room. She almost tripped twice as she sprinted down the stairs on unsteady feet and tired legs. "Sev!" she called out when she found him waiting for her in the hallway. "We need to get rid of the evidence," she told him once she reached him, panting.

"I'm aware," he only said, giving her a solemn nod. He took the bag from her without comment, before steering them into the crisp November air.

Chapter Text

Snowdrops

Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring—

afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

They ended up in a nearby pub called The Ship Tavern. After sliding into a small booth tucked away in a far corner of the pub, they both went ahead and ordered big cups of coffee and the Sunday roast.

They didn't converse much while they waited for their food to arrive; Severus was brooding, while Hermione found she was barely able to keep her eyes open. As soon as the server had served them their food, Severus surreptitiously glanced around the busy pub, before casting a Muffliato charm from underneath the table.

"Thoughts?" he asked, while he watched Hermione attack her meal. He himself slowly picked up his own cutlery and took his time to neatly cut his lamb.

"Several," she said in between bites, "I imagine you do as well."

Severus nodded. "I assume you're not in favour of simply destroying the evidence."

Hermione's eyes widened as she started shaking her head vehemently. "Out of the question. Although I do agree that we should get rid of the translation you made."

Severus smirked. "Already taken care of." He put down his cutlery. "What about Transfiguration?" he asked, while he picked up his coffee to take a long sip from it.

Hermione shook her head again. "Research has shown that Transfiguration can seriously harm fragile materials such as papyrus."

Probably having come to the same conclusion, Severus nodded in agreement. "Then our next best option is hiding it."

Hermione hummed in agreement. "I think so, too," she said. A frown appeared on her face as she focused on spearing some leeks with her fork. After a moment of contemplation, she looked up to meet Severus' piercing gaze again. "I might know of a good hiding place."

After a lengthy discussion, Hermione was finally able to persuade a wary Severus. With no time to lose, they quickly finished their meals and downed their cups of coffee before departing for the British Ministry of Magic. Their subsequent journey was hurried but uneventful. When they arrived back in Cairo, Hermione immediately took Severus's arm to Apparate them to their next destination.

Immediately after their feet hit the ground, they were forced to shield their eyes against the sand that assaulted them. Hermione peered around with squinted eyes to take in their surroundings. As intended, they had landed in the middle of the Egyptian desert. It was pitch black outside; the only light provided by the waning moon that shone amidst the smattering of stars in the night sky high above them. While the worst of the dust storm seemed to have passed, the winds apparently still hadn't completely died down yet. Moreover, now that the sun had set, the temperature had dropped significantly. Hermione quickly wrapped her woollen scarf around her mouth and nose to provide some extra warmth, as well as to protect herself from the elements.

Hermione watched Severus stride forward; towards the large mound of sand rose up before them. Two sandstone walls created an entrance into the mound, and indicated that they were in the right place. Hermione quickly hurried after him, relieved for the shelter the sandstone walls provided. Careful not to touch the wooden door that had clearly been installed semi-recently, Hermione glanced at the crooked sign that was nailed to it:

'تحذير! ممنوع الدخول!

موت وشيك!

Warning! Keep out!

Imminent death!'

"A reassuring sight," Severus said drily.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes, but couldn't suppress a small smile. "At least we know we're in the right place. Just get to removing the protective spells already," she said, while shooting him a look. "Besides, look on the bright sight," she added, as she watched him pull out his wand, "it might serve as an additional layer of protection."

It took about a quarter of an hour for Severus to dismantle the spells that had been cast upon the door. With a final wave of his wand, the door creaked open, immediately disturbing the layer of dust that covered the tomb's floor.

Severus lit his wand and shone its beam inside. I showed a set of stairs leading down into pitch-darkness. "Are you certain that you want to proceed?" he asked her.

Hermione faltered only briefly, before squaring her shoulders and giving him a determined nod. "I do," she said, before lighting her own wand and leading the way inside. She felt Severus follow close behind. The first thing Hermione noticed were the carvings that covered the sandstone walls, as well as the painted images that followed as they continued their journey downward.

Descending the uneven - and at some points even crumbling - stairs required their full attention and their pace was slow because of it. Hermione used her gloved hand on the sandstone wall to guide her way down, careful not to touch any of the ancient art. They both halted when a low, rumbling sound met their ears.

"Is that-?" she began asking Severus over her shoulder.

He looked grim. "I presume it is. Let's continue," he only murmured.

Hermione gave him a determined nod before continuing

As the sound grew in volume, the small staircase they had been descending started to widen into a corridor of sorts. Hermione swallowed as she felt her ears pop due to the low altitude. Several more minutes passed, before finally, the staircase levelled out. Hermione stepped down from the last of the steps and halted to shine her light on the way ahead. Severus squeezed in the space beside her. The corridor seemed to end in what looked like a low-ceilinged hypostyle hall. The ominous rumbling sound had become quite loud at this point, and now that Hermione was able to listen more closely, she realised it had an almost animalistic quality to it. Hermione found herself forcibly suppressing the primal urge to turn around and flee because of it.

Severus was the one that stirred first, and began taking slow, measured strides towards their intended destination. Hermione quickly moved to catch up with him. They reached the chamber at the same time, and, after exchanging one last glance, they crossed its threshold together.

A deep, hoarse, female voice rose up from the darkness, "who goes there?" it rumbled. Without awaiting their answer, heavy footsteps approached them as the voice's owner prowled into their wands' light. The first thing it illuminated was the creature's face: her skin a dark brown with golden undertones. Her keen eyes were almond-shaped and hazel-coloured and surveyed Severus and Hermione with caution. Her hair reach down to her proud, puffed out chest in sleek, dark waves. She looked young, but ancient at the same time. As she prowled closer, the light reflected off her great, clawed paws. It was also hard to ignore her body, which closely resembled that of an over-large lion.

"We come in peace," Severus only said. He bowed low in respect, and Hermione quickly followed his example.

The sphinx let out a low, mocking laugh, which closely resembled a growl. "Peace? Do not mock me. Go back to whence you came from, wizard, and leave me be."

Hermione and Severus exchanged confused glances.

"I can assure you, that it was never our intention to mock you," Hermione told the sphinx.

The latter swished her tail in annoyance, but her voice seemed to contain a hint of melancholy as she spoke again, "I have failed my task, failed my purpose; there is nothing left for me to protect, and therefore nothing left for me to provide." Her face suddenly twisted in anger as she stalked closer, her long nails creating a scraping sound as they dragged on the floor. "I will ask you once more: leave." The last word was spoken in a low, threatening tone of voice.

Hermione took a cautious step backwards. "I- I don't understand. Your treasure was taken from you?"

"YES!" she roared out, then lunged at Severus.

He retreated immediately, but Hermione realised that the creature would have been able to reach him in time, had it not been for the fact that the sphinx seemed to have gotten held back somehow. Hermione gasped as her searching eyes fell on a thick, heavy chain, attached to one of the hypostyles, which was in turn tethered to a giant metal shackle, which circled the sphinx's left back paw. It had rubbed away the creature's hair; the skin that showed underneath look raw and painful. Hermione felt herself pale as she exchanged a quick look with Severus. He looked as furious and disgusted as she felt. "Who did this to you?" Hermione asked the sphinx, lowly.

Her deep voice shook in anger as she answered, "wizards," the word seemed to be dripping in venom. "Somehow, they managed to incapacitate me. When I came to, I learned that they had taken everything. They desecrated my Master's grave!" she roared out in frustration, causing sand to rain down from the ceiling. "I have no riddles for you to answer, no treasure for you to take. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! LEAVE!"

Hermione felt Severus shift beside her. They both gripped their wands tighter.

Hermione took in the sphinx's heaving chest and gleaming eyes. "I- Merlin, I am so sorry for what has been done to you. Had I known… Please, allow us to help you," she told the sphinx earnestly. "Both Severus and I have no intention of further harming you." When the sphinx didn't move, Hermione took a tentative step forward, ignoring Severus' hissed warning. "We're not interested in treasure," she said, as she took another step forward. She slowly opened her bag and took out the mounted papyrus scroll. "You see, we brought something valuable of our own. It is in dire need of protection," she explained. She held out the artefact for the sphinx to look at. "This describes an ancient spell and ritual. If kept in our possession, it would put both Severus and me in grave danger."

The sphinx looked contemplative, then dejected. "I have failed the task my Master has set me. Why ever would you entrust me with something of yours?"

Hermione paused, as she searched for the right words, but it was Severus who spoke this time, "I will add additional layers of protection, curses and the like."

Something in the sphinx's face hardened. "Fools! Do you really think my Master's tomb was unprotected? Heed my warnings, as I have provided you with plenty."

Severus stepped forward. "We are fully aware of the dangers, but must insist."

The sphinx huffed in annoyance. "If you insist - answer my riddle, and I will offer you my inferior guardianship."

"Alright," Severus said with a nod. "Tell us your riddle."

The sphinx briefly hesitated, before walking over to the middle of the chamber and carefully sitting down on her hind legs. She recited:

"I can be long or I can be short.

Some may call me trite, yet others, of import.

Forgive me, for I am capable of making your heart bleed.

Perhaps you will find your way back to me in your greatest times of need.

What am I?"

Hermione began pacing up and down the chamber while she replayed the riddle in her head. Maybe the answer was a knife? No, wait, that didn't sense: it didn't fit with the sphinx's use of the word "trite". Perhaps that word gave her a clue to go off of. There were popular songs that she would describe as trite. The thing was, Hermione wasn't reminded of songs specifically; rather, she thought of music in general as something people often turned to in their greatest times of need. Poetry however- "What about poetry?" she told Severus in a hushed tone of voice.

"My thoughts exactly," he said, with a nod of approval. He turned to address the sphinx, "we'll go with poetry."

Despite her solemn mood, the sphinx still offered them a small smile in response. "Correct." She stepped aside to allow them to pass, the chain that was still attached to her paw dragging on the ground in the process.

Hermione immediately approached the hypostyle to which the sphinx's chain was attached. She was careful to point her wand at the chain, before murmuring, "Evanesco," which caused the chain to disappear into thin air.

The sphinx looked at Hermione in surprise as she felt the weight suddenly disappear from her hind leg. She carefully lifted her paw into the air to study it. "I am undeserving," she only said, before putting it back down.

Severus approached the sphinx with caution. "Do you want me to heal the wound as well?"

She shook his head, her glossy hair swishing back and forth as she did so. "It will heal on its own," she told him decidedly, before stalking off.

"Very well," Severus said, as he gestured for Hermione to lead the way.

They reached the burial chamber in mere minutes. The sphinx hadn't exaggerated; it had been wiped clean. Even her Master's sarcophagus seemed to have been taken from its final resting place.

"This is outrageous!" Hermione exclaimed, as soon as she laid eyes on the empty burial chamber. "Who is their right mind chains a sphinx, plunders a grave, and then leaves them behind to rot?"

Severus' eyes flashed with anger as he took in their surroundings. "Allow me to hazard a guess..."

"Gringotts," Hermione ground out from between clenched teeth.

After briefly discussing the precautions that they still needed to take, Hermione left Severus to his own devices, while she Apparated directly to the NAWS's tent. As soon as she got there, she strode over to Maureen's office, ready to carry out the final step of their plan.

Just as Severus had described, Hermione felt around the dusty floor beneath Maureen's desk until her fingers brushed against the cold metal exterior of a hidden floor safe. It sprung open with a soft click as soon as Hermione cast Alohomora on it. Next, she pointed her wand inside the large hollow space and easily summoned a large ledger.

She quickly crawled out from under the desk and took a seat, before opening the NAWS's Catalogue of Archaeological Finds. This was where every excavated archaeological artefact was documented. It was cleverly linked to the cataloguing forms that every Wizarding Archaeologist were obligated to fill in.

Keeping an eye on the dates, Hermione quickly leafed through the catalogue, only stopping when she reached the 15th of November 2004. Her own small, neat script jumping out to her on the first form she encountered, Hermione pressed her wand to where she had described that five papyrus scrolls were found, and watched the ink disappear. Next, she pulled a biro from her pocket and changed the amount of scrolls found that day to four. She double-checked if the form still made sense, before leafing to the 26th of November - the day she had catalogued her preservation efforts - and made similar changes. Once she was satisfied with the alterations she had made, Hermione carefully put everything back in its place.

She worried her bottom lip as she glanced around Maureen's office one last time. Guilt was eating at her; she didn't like going behind Maureen's back, even if it was absolutely necessary to protect those she cared about. "I'm sorry," she whispered into the empty office, before quietly closing the door behind her.

Hermione was woken by a loud beeping noise. Its source: her mobile phone. She had a hard time opening her eyes, but summoned the device over to her bedside anyway. When she flipped it open, its bright light instantly burned her retinas, forcing her to avert her eyes. She tiredly blinked up at the ceiling, while she tried to get used to the light. Merlin, she was still feeling knackered. Her throat hurt from the prolonged chanting, her eyes were puffy, and the muscles in her legs, arms, back, and stomach were sore as hell. The ritual had clearly taken its toll on her, Hermione could tell. She imagined it had forced her to expand such a large amount of magic, that it would take several days for her to fully recover.

When Hermione finally felt able to, she nervously looked back at her mobile. She had one new message, sent by Harry. She immediately navigated to read it. 'It worked,' was all it said.

Fatigue instantly forgotten, Hermione jumped out of her bed in elation. "It worked!" she exclaimed, as a breathy laugh escaped her. "I can't believe it worked," she whispered to herself. She felt herself begin to tremble as a wave of relief washed over her. Her thoughts immediately turned to Severus; when she had left him behind in the sphinx's tomb, he had made her promise to come to him as soon as she knew if the spell had worked. Hermione glanced at the time and winced: it was still early, barely past five o'clock. At most, she had gotten about four hours of sleep. She imaged Severus would have gone to bed even later than she had. Still, he had been adamant, so Hermione quickly got dressed.

When Severus answered the door, he looked more dishevelled than she had ever seen him: He was wearing a hastily thrown-on dressing gown that had fallen open slightly, revealing a faded t-shirt underneath. His hair was mussed from sleep, which he messed up even further by tiredly dragging his hand through it. He blinked at her in surprise, before realisation dawned.

"Did it work?" he asked as he took her in. Hermione was practically bouncing on her feet, her eyes were sparkling and she was wearing an exulted smile.

Hermione noticed he seemed much more unguarded than she had ever seen him. It was clear that wasn't Occluding in that moment, as for once, his emotions were easy for her to read: weariness, surprise, concern, relief, fondness- "It did," she finally answered.

"Good," he only said. Instead of bidding her goodnight, however, his eyes remained fixed on hers.

Hermione barely dared to breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears. What was going through his head right now? What was he waiting for? He licked his lips, causing her gaze to be involuntarily drawn to them. She forced herself to look back up, only to find his eyes wandering to her own mouth as well. Feeling emboldened, Hermione slowly reached up to carefully cup his face with her right hand. Severus didn't stir; his eyes were like molten lava. "Tell me," she breathed, as she stepped closer to him, "tell me, if I've been imagining this. Tell me if you want me to stop." When he didn't answer or stir, she gradually began to bridge the gap between them. Slowly, ever so slowly, she drew closer. Their breaths mingled. Her warm eyes met his dark ones. Then finally, finally, her lips touched his.

Severus' world exploded. Everything he felt for Hermione, every one of his carefully filed away emotions: it all burst forth, threatening to overwhelm him completely.

Confusion, apprehension, longing, passion, hunger.

He couldn't resist. He had to give in. Her lips were soft; so soft against his. He allowed his hands to travel up. His right hand pausing to caress Hermione's blushing cheek while his left fingers threaded through her tangled curls. Without breaking their kiss, he pulled her with him into the room, before wandlessly closing the door behind them. He pressed forward then, kissed her more fiercely, while he guided her to walk backwards until he felt her softly bump against the door. He immediately deepened the kiss, his hard body pressing up against her soft curves.

Hermione released a soft moan then, which only served to spur him on. He felt her fingers crawl up his heaving chest, skim over the soft material of his t-shirt, and hook into its collar in an attempt to tug him even closer. Severus groaned approvingly and hungrily kissed her back with renewed fervour, simultaneously caging her in with his body.

Greed, lust, need. He desperately needed more of her, needed her closer.

Hermione suddenly pushed on his chest, and together, they stumbled further into the room. Their kisses grew even more heated, more intense. Their navigation became clumsy, causing them to hit Severus' desk. Its chair fell to the ground with a loud crash, which they both promptly ignored. Severus' sole focus was on her, on the taste of her lips, on her scent, and on her tongue, which was now tentatively asking for entrance. Severus willingly let her in. Her taste was intoxicating, and he immediately realised that he wanted to devour her whole. He pulled her with him and they stumbled across the room again. He felt the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed, then halted.

Hermione's hands moved up to cup his face again. One got tangled in his hair; the feeling nearly making Severus tremble. Adoringly, he began trailing kisses down her jaw, slowly moving towards her neck. He groaned in delight as he felt Hermione's answering shudder against his chest. "Hermione," he whispered against her soft flesh, while he continued kissing her feverish skin. His voice was hoarse with longing.

He smirked as he felt her blush bloom against his cheek. Hermione tentatively began manoeuvring her hands down his chest and underneath his dressing gown, sliding the silk material down his bare arms. "God," she breathed, as she ran her hands up and down the sinewy muscles of his upper arms, causing Severus to shiver in response. Her fingers brushed down his lower arms, accidentally grazing the raised skin that formed the remnants of his Dark Mark. Fantom pain shot through his arm, and Severus froze.

He was immediately filled with self-loathing. 'Wrong!' a voice inside his mind cried. This was completely and utterly wrong.

"Severus?" Hermione asked, when Severus didn't move. "Sev-? she began asking again.

He quickly untangled himself from her embrace and stumbled backwards. "Don't call me that," he told her through grit teeth, as he turned away from her.

It took a couple of seconds before the stunned Hermione was able to respond. "Alright," she began saying. She slowly approached him with raised hand. "It won't happen again."

Severus' eyes darted around the room, and he quickly bent down to pick up the fallen desk chair. "This was a mistake," he told her hoarsely, with his back turned to her. He braced himself against the back of the chair as searing guilt burned a hole in his stomach. He listened to Hermione's footsteps halting.

"I disagree," she said after a long pause. He listened as she tried and failed to keep the pain out of her voice. He heard her take a deep breath before continuing, "I have feelings for you, Severus," she admitted. Severus stilled, silently impressed by her bravery. "And, unless I'm completely mistaken - which I'm fairly certain I'm not - I think you feel the same way about me."

"It doesn't matter," Severus hissed, as he finally turned to face her again. Her hurt expression was like a punch to his stomach.

"No?" she asked him quietly. "After everything we've been through, after everything you've done for me-," her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared in anger, "-how can none of that matter?!"

Instead of answering, Severus marched over to the door and threw it open. It bounced off the wall with a loud thud. His guilt increased as he watched Hermione cringe back, while tears filled her eyes. They darted from him, to the door, and back. She lingered for a moment, her eyes searching his for a time, before she finally shook her head in stunned disbelief and left.

As soon as the door fell closed behind her, Severus whirled around, grabbed the nearest ink bottle and hurled it at the wall while releasing a frustrated cry.

Chapter Text

Fuelled by anger, Hermione stormed back to her room while furiously wiping at her tears. As she went, her mind immediately tried to come up with a logical explanation for what had just happened. She didn't understand. Not completely. Had she been wrong to assume? Wrong to think that Severus would reciprocate her feelings? She knew Severus was a… difficult man, to say the least. She had expected that he would struggle with intimacy. That's why she had taken it slow. Had she not been careful? Had she not told him that if he wanted her to stop, she would?

Hermione slowed her pace. Although he had told her to stop, hadn't he? While it was true that he hadn't articulated it aloud, he had certainly expressed himself non-verbally. It had been right around the time she had begun taking his dressing gown off. Hermione tried to fight her blush as she recalled the feeling of brushing her hands along Severus' long arms. How her fingers had tentatively explored his sinewy muscles; how they had flexed under her touch. Her fingers involuntarily drifted up now, to touch the place where Severus' lips had. Where his rough voice had whispered her name, causing her to shiver with want.

She halted once she reached her room. Severus had frozen when she had reached past his elbow. The skin on forearm had felt raised and bumpy, almost scarred. It reminded her of her own scar: the one Bellatrix had given her…

Hermione groaned in realisation. She had inadvertently touched his inner left forearm, hadn't she? Which would mean she had touched the remnants of his Dark Mark. It had probably caused him to start spiralling. She had been thus caught up in the moment, that she hadn't realised - hadn't thought.

There was nothing for it, Hermione thought as she kicked open her door. She would confront Severus as soon as he arrived at work later that morning.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a nagging voice told her that a piece of the puzzle was still missing. It told her, that touching Severus' Dark Mark couldn't have possibly shaken him up that much. It was a voice that Hermione promptly chose to ignore, much like her simmering anger, which lingered low in her gut.

As soon as Hermione entered her room, her eyes fell on the illuminated screen of her mobile, which indicated that she had missed a call from Harry. According to the timestamp, he had rung her right around the time she had stepped out. It seemed he had also sent her another text. In it, Harry urged her to join them for supper at Grimmauld Place that evening - an invitation Hermione didn't hesitate to accept, as she figured she was in dire need of distraction.

After a couple more hours of restlessly staring up at the ceiling, Hermione - knackered as she was - arrived at the temple in a foul mood. Both Omar and Else gave her a wide berth, sensing that Hermione was not in the mood for idle conversation.

Hermione spent half an hour combing both the temple and its courtyard, but came up with empty hands. Severus was nowhere to be seen. Huffing in frustration, Hermione was finally forced to quit her search. She figured that perhaps, he had taken the day off - either to avoid her, or to get some rest after their eventful evening and night.

Maybe Severus had the right idea, Hermione groused during her break. Taking the remainder of the day off sounded like music to her ears right then. She had trouble concentrating on her work, and every part of the temple made her think of the time she had spent with Severus. Even the bench she had begun to think of as hers and Severus's was serving as a stark reminder of his absence.

To top it all off, when Hermione returned home that evening, she discovered that somebody had dropped off a book at her postbox. Its title read: 'Protecting of the Mind - A Comprehensive Guide on Occlumency'.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the tome; there was no doubt about who had sent it to her. After stubbornly glaring at the book's cover for several minutes, Hermione finally gave in, and snatched it up with an incensed huff.

Fine. She would start teaching herself Occlumency, but purely to keep their secrets safe, and not because Severus suggested she should.

As soon as her knocks on the door of 12 Grimmauld Place were answered, Hermione was met with an armful of Ginny.

"Hermione!" Ginny immediately exclaimed. Her eyes shone with appreciation when she finally stepped back. She quickly scanned the street while ushering Hermione inside. "Snape couldn't make it?" she asked, clearly striving to keep her tone neutral.

Hermione grimaced at the mention of Severus. "Something like that," she mumbled, while following Ginny down to the kitchen. She ignored the curious looks Ginny threw her way as they descended the stairs.

When they reached the kitchen, Hermione immediately flew over to James, who was babbling happily in his highchair. She quickly unbuckled him before lifting him into the air, prompting him to giggle in delight. Hermione felt herself immediately tear up as she took in his full head of hair, the colour on his cheeks, and the light that had returned to his green eyes. "I couldn't quite believe it, but now that I'm seeing him with my own two eyes…" she muttered disbelievingly. "It truly worked, didn't it?" she asked, while she hugged the squirming James close.

Harry hummed in understanding while he carried their supper to the table. "Hi Hermione," he greeted her with a wide grin. "Sure seems like it did. Honestly, I still can't quite wrap my heard around it myself."

Ginny shook her head as she lovingly rubbed James' back. "Me neither," she muttered, before taking a seat at the table, her eyes still lingering on her son.

After buckling James back into his highchair and sitting down herself, a hush fell over the kitchen. Everybody focused on serving themselves, as well as James, Molly Weasley's reheated stew, which she had apparently brought over earlier that day. Hermione couldn't help but briefly close her eyes as she took her first bites. The taste and smell of Molly's cooking brought her right back to her teenage years. She opened them to discover both Ginny and Harry looking at her. Hermione raised an eyebrow in question.

Ginny briefly averted her gaze. She drew in a deep breath before her apologetic eyes met Hermione's again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for doubting you. If I had stopped you - and bloody hell, I nearly managed to do so - James would never have been cured. I wanted to tell Snape this too, but well…" She gestured to the empty seat opposite Hermione. "Just, thank you," she told Hermione sincerely, her eyes filling with tears.

Hermione also felt herself get teary-eyed as she reached over and gave Ginny a sideways hug. "Of course. Anytime," she said, giving Harry a wobbly smile as well. She righted herself and dabbed her eyes with the corner of her napkin before returning to her food. "How did your visit to the hospital go?" Hermione asked them next.

She watched Harry and Ginny exchange a look.

"The healer was able to confirm that James' cancer is gone. His magic curing him was the only explanation she could offer. She was talking about some kind of activation of his magic, before declaring him to no longer be a Squib," Harry told her.

"Activation of his magic?" Hermione asked, glancing at James. "So perhaps the ancient Egyptians had been right after all…" She had been meaning to do more research on the workings of magic. Perhaps she could write McGonagall and ask her if she could gain access to the Hogwarts' library-

"Hermione," Harry said, pulling her from her thoughts. "The healer was utterly perplexed when she discovered that James was no longer a Squib. It quickly turned into suspicion, however, as she started barraging us with questions we kept refusing to answer." He nervously pushed his glasses up his nose before continuing. "She wanted to run more tests on James, bring in other healers to take a more thorough look at him… We kept declining her offers, but she became adamant, urging us that more research needed to be done, demanding that we cooperate." He gestured at James. "At this point, James had long fallen asleep. We were about to up and leave when he got woken by all the commotion, however. He immediately began wailing, screaming his lungs out. He was inconsolable and kept repeating two words over and over again: 'Aunty 'Mione. Aunty 'Mione'." Harry grabbed Hermione's hand from across the table and squeezed it tightly, willing her to listen closely. "Hermione, we didn't think much of it at the time - you see, we were knackered - completely spent. Now that we've had a good night's sleep, however… We've reviewed our memories in the Pensieve to be sure. However, we've become quite certain: the healer might have gleaned some meaning from James' repeated mention of your name."

Hermione felt herself pale as she looked from Harry, to Ginny, and back again, before her gaze finally came to rest on James, who was contentedly gnawing on a piece of bread.

"What precautions have you taken?" Ginny asked her worriedly.

Hermione laid out the steps that Severus and she had taken so far. "I'm about to learn Occlumency, too."

Harry nodded in relief. "That's good. We should probably get on that as well."

"Is Snape teaching you?" Ginny asked Hermione.

She began chewing on her bottom lip. "Well, no," she admitted. The implication that Severus wasn't planning to help her had been made quite clear when he had simply dropped the book on Occlumency off at her postbox.

Harry sat back as he considered. "I thought you two had developed a friendship of sorts?"

Hermione flushed. "You could say that…" she began saying. Then, before she knew it, the words were spilling from her lips as she began regaling them with the story of her growing bond with Severus. "…he kept on demanding that I leave, and so I finally did. I haven't seen him since," she finished.

Harry's eyes were widened in surprise, while Ginny tried to hide her shock.

"You caught… feelings… for Severus Snape?" Harry asked her after a short pause.

Hermione gave him a careful nod. "It caught me by surprise as well," she admitted.

"I'll say," Harry said. He blew out a breath of stunned disbelief. "From what you've told us, it sounds like he is still battling his own demons, that's for sure." He shot a warning look at Ginny, who was looking very conflicted. "The heart wants what it wants, I guess." He shrugged. "As long as you're happy, who am I to judge?"

Hermione gave him a grateful smile, before turning to Ginny.

"Snape, Hermione?" Ginny finally asked her. Uncomfortably, she stared at her empty bowl, purposefully avoiding Hermione's eyes. "I- I guess it sort of makes sense?" she tried. It was clear Ginny was trying very hard to put herself in Hermione's shoes, but couldn't quite manage to do so.

When Ginny didn't continue, Hermione rose, bending down to kiss James' cheek. She fondly ruffled his hair while she continued addressing her friends, "Thanks for the meal. I'll try to reach Severus tomorrow," Hermione said, trying to ignore the lingering discomfort on Ginny's face. Hermione was suddenly feeling very drained. "Let's just wait and see if word gets out about James. After all, healers are obliged to take an oath of secrecy, right?"

Severus didn't show up to work the next day either.

Feeling beyond frustrated, Hermione found herself pounding on his door during her lunch break. "Severus! Open the door! I need to speak with you!" she yelled at the unyielding wood of his door. After five minutes of incessant pounding, she finally stomped down to her room while cradling her now sore fist.

There, she penned a quick letter, asking Severus to get into contact with her as soon as possible, as it concerned an urgent matter that she needed to discuss with him. She slid it underneath his door before she returned to the temple.

The morning after that, Hermione had just arrived at the temple, when Harry rang her up. She quickly walked to her and Severus' bench, briefly glaring at the empty spot beside her before answering her buzzing mobile.

"Hermione," Harry began as soon as the call connected, "we've just received several letters from medical researchers, inquiring after James' case."

"Bugger," Hermione cursed under her breath. "What exactly do they want?"

"They're expressing interest in conducting further research on him. They all say that his case is unique and of great importance to the magical medical community. One even wrote that it is our moral obligation to let them conduct research on James, as it could save many lives. Another offered us a large sum of money, saying that we could help him change the world."

"While they do have a point-" Hermione began saying, ignoring Harry's shout of protest, "-we both know we can't allow that to happen." She sighed in annoyance.

Harry hummed in agreement. "And that's not even the worst of it," he admitted after a brief moment of hesitation. "One of the letters came with a clipping of an article that was published in some medical journal where they 'anonymously' describe James' case."

"Anonymous?! That's preposterous!" Hermione exclaimed in anger. She groaned loudly. "Oh Merlin, this is going to become widespread news soon, isn't it?"

"I'm worried about that as well…" Harry admitted. "Have you at least been able to reach Snape?" he asked after a tense pause.

"Still working on it," Hermione said through grit teeth. "Keep me posted. I'll let you know as soon as I've talked to Severus."

After saying quick goodbyes, Hermione tore through the temple in search of Severus, but came up with empty hands. Again. Not knowing what else she could do, Hermione begrudgingly started her workday.

While that evening, Hermione still wasn't able to reach Severus (at this point, she had half a mind of camping in front of his door), she did receive a letter. In it, the healer that had examined James asked Hermione if she could relay any information on his sudden curing. In response, Hermione immediately set the letter on fire.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the following day's Daily Prophet headlined with the news of James' miracle curing and the inexplicable loss of his Squib status. What did catch Hermione by surprise, however, was that for once, the article wasn't written by Rita Skeeter, and therefore worded quite positively. Still, reading it made Hermione's stomach churn in worry, and after a brief call with Harry (who had become overwhelmed with both celebratory and critical letters, as well as several howlers containing threats and pleas from Squibs asking him for help), Hermione decided it was high to pay Maureen a visit.

Immediately after Hermione was invited into her boss' office, Maureen gestured for her to take a seat. "Hermione, just the witch I've been looking for," she said, frowning.

It made Hermione stop in her tracks, feeling the mix of nervous energy and anger she had been harbouring all week intensify. "Is that right?" Hermione asked while releasing a nervous laugh, before perching on the chair Maureen had indicated.

Maureen hummed lowly. She sat back in her chair as she silently scrutinised Hermione. After a long, tense silence, she gestured for Hermione to go ahead and state her business.

Feeling her anxiety mounting, Hermione cleared her throat, while she quickly scanned Maureen's office for any indication of why she wanted to speak with her. Her eyes fell on the Daily Prophet, which Maureen's folded hands were resting on. "I haven't been able to reach Severus all week," she slowly began, "I'm getting worried about him." She finally ripped her eyes from the paper to meet Maureen's.

"Oh, that," Maureen said, waving her concern away. "He's taken the remainder of the week off. Travelled back to England, I believe. He told me he'll be back on Monday."

Hermione looked at Maureen in quiet disbelief. She had been so wrapped up in her last encounter with Severus and the lingering emotions surrounding it that she had become thoroughly convinced he was simply ignoring her. She had never considered she hadn't been able to reach him because he had left the country. "Right," she slowly said. "That makes sense."

"Doesn't it just," Maureen replied with a wry smile. "If that's all, there's actually another matter I'd like to discuss with you. This morning, I encountered something concerning while reviewing the Catalogue of Archaeological Finds, which left me quite puzzled. Perhaps you could enlighten me?"

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as soon as the catalogue was mentioned. Trying to refrain from showing her growing horror, she desperately pulled on her minimal knowledge of Occlumency. "Oh?" Hermione only said.

"You see, ever since the NAWS has decided to stop working with the likes of Gringotts Curse-Breakers, I've made a habit of occasionally reviewing the catalogue. I was very surprised to find two of the entries you've originally made seem to have been tampered with." Her tone turned venomous. "Care to explain?"

Hermione broke out in a sweat. "That-" she croaked out, "that's very strange."

"Is it?" Maureen asked, her frown deepening. "What's even stranger, is that both edits seem to have been made by you, as well. You see, they both contain your magical signature."

Realising that the jig was up, Hermione felt herself start shaking. "Maureen," she began saying pleadingly.

Maureen, however, kept talking, her voice slowly beginning to betray her anger. "This ledger," she said, "is only accessible by me. I've ensured this, by keeping it hidden away behind lock and key in my private office."

Hermione shrunk in her chair, she had never seen the usually good-natured witch become this angry.

"Hermione, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Maureen hissed, when she didn't respond.

There was no use in denying it, so Hermione began shaking her head. She felt tears well and didn't attempt to wipe them away. "I do not," she said in a small, shaking voice.

The disappointment was clear in Maureen's voice, "why, Hermione? I-" she faltered for the first time, "are you the mole?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I would never- No, Maureen, I'm not the mole. I- I can't tell you why I did it, just that it needed to be done. Please believe me when I say this." Her eyes involuntarily flickered to the newspaper that Maureen's hands were still resting on.

Maureen's eyes followed hers. She frowned in confusion, before understanding slowly dawned. "Does this have something to do with James' miracle curing?" she slowly began saying.

Hermione froze; wanted to shake her head no, but found herself unable to. She suddenly wished Severus was there with her. He was a much better liar than Hermione ever was.

With a flick of her wand, Maureen summoned the ledger from her desk's drawer and opened it to where she had previously placed the tome's ribbon. She started reading the entry Hermione had made out loud: "found inside a chamber seemingly filled with ritualistic equipment: four papyrus scrolls, along with one ancient wand." She quickly leafed to the other entry Hermione had edited; a page Maureen had also marked beforehand. "Preservation and translation of four papyrus scrolls, each describing an ancient healing spell and ritual." She looked up, her gaze piercing as the met Hermione's. "Explain," she demanded.

Hermione began shaking her head. "I can't."

Maureen snapped the ledger closed, causing Hermione to wince. "Use of experimental magic on a minor is a criminal offence. You do realise I'm forced to report this to the NAWS' board. I'm sure they will feel the need to contact law enforcement."

While deep down, Hermione had known these could be the possible consequences of her actions, it was still jarring to hear them thus bluntly spoken aloud. At the same time, she realized that Maureen was doing her a favor by warning her that the Aurors would soon come after her, thus giving her time to prepare. "I'm going to lose my job, aren't I?" Hermione finally said. It was more a statement than a question.

Maureen stared at her for a long time. A pained expression crossed her features, before she gave a curt nod. "I imagine you will." She leaned back, her eyes suddenly moist. "Was it worth it, Hermione?" she asked in a low, surprisingly soft voice.

Hermione paused to consider, her eyes not leaving Maureen's as hot tears began running down her cheeks. For James? She would do it again in a heartbeat. "Yes," she finally answered unwaveringly. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, while quickly standing, "I have some matters to attend to."

The first thing Hermione did when she stepped out of Maureen's office, was ring Harry. Ginny picked up instead. "I don't have much time," Hermione immediately stated, while she wiped away the last of her tears as she hurried outside. "My boss found out about James… and how we cured him." Ginny gasped on the other side of the line. "I'm trying to get into contact with Severus before the Cairene Aurors reach me. Listen Ginny," she pressed, as she heard Ginny's breathing quicken, "I need you to inform Harry of this. I also need you to owl Severus. Tell him that there's an emergency, and urge him to contact me as soon as possible. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course!" Ginny said. "Be careful, please?"

"I will," Hermione said, before drawing in a shaky breath. "Just find Severus for me, please?"

"On it," Ginny replied decidedly, before quickly ending the call.

Hermione Apparated straight to her room, snatching parchment and a biro from her desk, before she immediately ran out the door. When she arrived at Severus' room, she started pounding on his door. "Severus!" she called loudly. "Open the door! Open the door right now!" When there was no response, she cast the Patronus charm. "Severus, I need you right now. It's an emergency. I'll be waiting outside your room," she told the silvery otter, not quite able to keep the tremor from her voice. With a sharp flick of her wand, it swam away, notably in the opposite direction of Severus' room.

Hermione allowed herself to slowly slide down the wall then, coming to a seated position straight across from Severus' door. She placed both her mobile and wand within reach, before straightening the parchment that she had brought. Anxiously chewing on the end of her biro, she forced herself to focus on coming up with a strategy that she could utilise when the Aurors brought her in for questioning. She urged herself to keep in mind that there was no definite proof of her ever casting an experimental spell on James.

Harry rung her after about fifteen minutes. "What happened?" he asked her, his voice filled with dread.

Hearing Harry's voice opened a floodgate of emotions, and before she could stop herself, a sob escaped. "Everything's falling apart, Harry," she said through her tears. Sniffling, she quickly regaled what had happened in Maureen's office.

"Merlin's pants," Harry muttered under his breath. "Your boss is right, Hermione. Only the Committee on Experimental Charms are allowed to perform experimental magic. Intentionally casting an experimental spell, especially on a minor, is classed as a criminal offence. Chances are the Aurors will want to arrest you and take you in for questioning. I don't know about much about Egyptian law, but make sure that you ask for legal counsel beforehand. I'll ask around the office for recommendations on a good lawyer. Ginny's already owled Snape. As far as I know, she haven't received a reply yet, but I assume he is on his way."

"Good, that's good," Hermione said, trying and failing to ease her raging anxiety. She scrambled up when she heard faraway footsteps approaching, and clutched her wand tightly. "I'd better go."

"Yeah, of course. I- I'm sorry this has happened," Harry told her, his voice filled with regret.

"Me too," she only said, before ending the call. She had hoped the footsteps belonged to Severus, but instead, they turned out to be two wizards'. They were wearing identical, black robes, and both had a gleaming, golden emblem embroidered on their chest. Clearly Aurors, they quickened their pace when they caught sight of her. Hermione muttered a curse as she hopelessly glanced at Severus closed door, before turning back to face them.

"Hermione Granger?" one of them asked with a thick accent.

"That's me," she told them nervously.

One of them stepped forward to address her, "we're here to take you in for questioning, on suspicion of casting experimental magic on a minor. Please hand over your wand and put your hands on the wall behind you."

"R-right," Hermione said. Feeling reluctant to part with her wand, she handed it over in an unhurried manner. She flexed the stiff fingers of her now empty wand hand. The other Auror gestured for her to put her hands on the wall beside Severus' door. She chose to place them directly on his door, instead. Hermione glanced over her shoulder as the Auror used his wand to prod at her clothes, presumably searching her. Once he seemed satisfied, he firmly grabbed both her wrists to swiftly manoeuvre her hands behind her back. Hermione let out a surprised yelp as she was roughly slammed against the door. "Easy!" she exclaimed in fright as she felt him press his weight against her.

To her horror, instead of apologising, the Auror let out a low, unnerving chuckle. He was opening his mouth to say something else, when all of a sudden, the door flung open and they both started falling forward.

Hermione was barely able to break her fall, while the Auror caught himself on the doorframe.

"What is the meaning of this?" Severus spat, his wand aimed at both the Aurors, who immediately adopted a battle stance.

Hermione scrambled from the floor, quickly getting out of spell-range. A mixture of relief and confusion coursed through her at the sight of Severus. Why was he aiming his wand at them? She forced herself to think logically. While yes, the Aurors looked legit, but she knew by now that Severus never did something without reason.

"Lower your wand, right now!" one of the Aurors yelled. His colleague popped up behind him, the doorway too narrow to fit the both of them.

"Are they with the Cairene Auror Office?" Severus asked Hermione, without taking his eyes off the two wizards.

"Yes, but-"

Without waiting for Hermione to finish her sentence, Severus wordlessly blasted them back with the same spell he had used on Hermione all those weeks ago. The door closed with a bang, followed by the clicking and whirring of locks sliding into place. Severus summoned the familiar leather doctor's bag that stood beside his door and grabbed Hermione's arm without explanation.

"Severus, wait!" she yelled, wrenching her arm from his grip before he could Apparate them. "Why did you attack them?!" By the sound of it, a barrage of spells began hitting the door, causing Hermione to glance at it nervously.

"They're in cahoots with Gringotts. I'll explain once we get out of here," Severus grit out, trying to grab Hermione's arm again, who dodged him.

"Severus, they still have my-!"

BANG!

The door exploded, and both Severus and Hermione were knocked off their feet, hurled a long way backward. Wood chips rained down on them as the room quickly filled with black smoke.

Hermione landed painfully on her bum, but ignored the pain in favour of immediately getting to her feet. She peered through the black smoke at the groaning Aurors. One didn't stir, and seemed to have been knocked unconscious, while the other was slowly rising to his feet. Clearly, Severus and Hermione hadn't been the only once who had been hit by the foolishly strong Bombardment Spell. Hermione immediately rushed over to Severus, who looked disorientated and not fully with it. She glanced up at the windowsill above his head, reckoning he must have hit his head pretty hard. She wrenched his wand from his fingers, shouting, "Expelliarmus!" while pointing the wand in the Aurors' general direction.

Hermione managed to catch a wand, which she quickly pocketed, before summoning over the heavy doctor's bag. Grabbing Severus' hand, she concentrated hard on her destination, before turning on her heel to Apparate. Nothing happened. Apparently, the Aurors had had the foresight to cast an Anti-Apparition Charm. "Shit!" she cursed loudly, jumping to her feet to face the dazed Auror, who was lifting a shaky hand to point his wand at her from across the room. The smoke was clearing, allowing her to make out his lopsided grimace.

"Surrender the wand, Miss Granger, and we won't hold your companion's actions against you," the Auror said, his voice gravelly with pain.

Hermione wavered, glancing between Severus' half-conscious form and the injured Auror. Despite their falling out, Hermione knew she would still trust Severus with her life. "No. I don't think I will," she said, before quickly and silently shooting a stunner at the Auror.

The wizard was able to throw up a Shield Charm just in time, before shooting a spell back at her, which Hermione managed to dodge. A battle ensued. While Hermione had never been particularly skilled at dueling, she had gained plenty of practice during the war. That's why her muscle memory quickly took over as she cast and dodged the spells from the weakened Auror.

After a couple of minutes, both Hermione and the Auror were panting. As their fatigue incread, their casting was getting sloppier. Suddenly, the Auror unleashed a barrage of spells at her. Unprepared to block them, Hermione was forced to jump out of their way and take cover behind an armchair instead. As she cautiously peered around it, she caught sight of a vicious gleam in the Auror's eyes. In a flash, he pointed his wand at Severus, unleashing a purple jet of light that struck him square in the stomach.

Severus cried out in pain, while blood immediately began soaking his robes.

"No!" Hermione screamed. Instantly fuelled by intense hatred, she cast a well-aimed Stupify at the gloating Auror. As soon as she witnessed him dropping unconscious to the floor, Hermione ran over to Severus, immediately casting Episkey at his chest. It seemingly did nothing, making her growl in frustration. She cast a Featherlight Charm at him instead, then shrunk his doctor's bag, swiftly pocketing it. Half-lifting Severus by the armpits, she started walking backwards, dragging him over to the exit. She winced, but didn't halt when Severus began groaning loudly in pain. As she went, Hermione tried not to look at the trail of blood he left behind, but it was hard not to.

As soon as they reached the remnants of Severus' front door, Hermione briefly let Severus go to check if both Aurors were still unconcious, before hauling Severus further into the hallway. About halfway down, she gently lowered him to the floor. He had clearly gone unconscious by this point, his hand cold and limp as she took it in hers. Lifting Severus' wand, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she turned on her heel.

She had never been so happy to be welcomed by the suffocating squeeze of Apparition.

Chapter Text

As soon as they reached the remnants of Severus' front door, Hermione briefly let Severus go to check if both Aurors were still unconcious, before hauling Severus further into the hallway. About halfway down, she gently lowered him to the floor. He had clearly gone unconscious by this point, his hand cold and limp as she took it in hers. Lifting Severus' wand, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she turned on her heel.

She had never been so happy to be welcomed by the suffocating squeeze of Apparition.

With an audible pop, they violently slammed into the ground, Hermione yelping in pain as she faceplanted into a slanting tree trunk. Trying to ignore the blood that immediately began trickling from her stinging nose, Hermione began feeling around for the shrunken doctor's bag and pulled it from her robe's pocket. Eyes squinted against the bright sunlight, she glanced around the blessedly empty stretch of desert. Her aim had been spot-on she realised. Somehow, she had managed to Apparate them right beneath - or rather on top of - the palm tree she had remembered being close to an abandoned excavation site.

Deeming it safe enough for now, Hermione focused back on the task at hand. Still borrowing Severus' wand, she turned the bag back to its original size and undid its clasp with shaking fingers. Peering inside, she wasn't surprised to find that it had been magically enlarged with an Extension Charm. Bringing up her left hand to pinch her still bleeding nose, she pointed Severus' wand into the bag with her right.

"Accio Blood-Replenishing Potion," she tried. Hermione cried out in relief when a big bottle, filled to the brim with the crimson-coloured potion shot out and landed square in her lap. Leave it to Severus to stock his getaway bag with potions. "Accio Wiggenweld Potion!" she began rattling off, catching it as it flew out "Accio Essence of Dittany! Accio Murtlap Essence!" This time, only the former appeared.

Feeling satisfied for now, Hermione shuffled over to Severus' side while juggling the potions. Not daring to use a cutting charm with someone else's wand, she settled for manually unbuttoning his robes instead. She cursed loudly as her own sweat and blood started dripping from her chin and her still trembling fingers began slipping on Severus' buttons.

Hermione sat back for a second to point the wand at her own nose. Screwing her eyes shut, she briefly hesitated before whispering, "Episkey." A loud snap filled her ears, which was immediately followed by a searing pain that radiated from the bridge of her nose. "Sweet Jesus!" she exclaimed shakily, before carefully bringing her hand up to touch her now healed nose.

Turning her attention back to Severus, she quickly undid the remainder of his buttons to reveal his pale chest underneath. After casting a Cleaning Charm to get rid of the blood that covered it, Hermione gasped at the sight: a long, deep cut ran from his sternum all the way down to his stomach. She noticed that the edges of his the wound were jagged and uneven and parts of the skin were blackened, almost looking charred - tainted, somehow.

Hermione swallowed with some difficulty before glancing down to grab the small bottle that contained Essency of Dittany. Ditching its dropper entirely, she carefully started pouring the potion straight onto the cut, causing greenish steam to begin rising up from the wound. Once the steam cleared, the skin looked smooth and even. Thankfully, she had managed to heal the cut. Hermione leaned forward, frowning. Parts of his skin were still looking charred. Hermione worried her bottom lip at the sight. To her untrained eye, this looked like the lingering effects of a Dark curse. Carefully, she reached up to brush the hair from Severus' forehead. "Please wake up. I'm certain you're far more knowledgeable on healing curse wounds than I am," she whispered to him.

Of course, he didn't respond.

Next came the Blood-Replenishing Potion. To properly administer it, she needed to lift Severus' head into her lap. Then, she slowly began pouring the potion into his mouth, carefully monitoring that he swallowed it all. After emptying the bottle, Hermione summoned over the bag and rummaged around until she stumbled upon a Pain-Relief Potion. She went on to feed Severus that as well.

Unfortunately for her, he remained unconscious. Judging by the bump on the back of his head she had noticed when lifting his head, he had likely become concussed due to being blasted back by the explosion. After making sure he was sufficiently protected from the elements, Hermione finally allowed herself to sit back and catch her breath. She briefly closed her eyes, leaning heavily against the palm tree's trunk. She felt the adrenaline quickly leaving her body, making her aware of the lingering pain in her nose, as well as her sore back and bum. She also noticed her ears were ringing incessantly. The explosion had been powerful, as well as loud. It had thrown her back several yards.

Hermione threw her head back and laughed wryly. The morning wasn't even halfway through and already she had lost her dream job, resisted arrest, battled two Aurors, and was now a fugitive to boot. Her laughs turned into hiccups, then promptly into sobs, as she realised that life as she knew it was over.

She tearfully glanced at Severus' unconscious form - at the slow rising and falling of his bared chest. He hadn't been wearing a disguise when he had faced the Aurors. Had they recognised him? Would he need to go back into hiding? Hermione chewed on her lip. She guessed they would just have to wait and see. At least she had gotten him out - although it was of small comfort in that moment.

Speaking of the Aurors… Hermione pulled out the wand she had taken off of one of them. Despite her misery, she managed to crack a small, watery smile at the familiar sight. Somehow, her trusty vine wand had found its way back to her. She cradled it close in relief.

She figured that they would need to leave soon; they were too vulnerable out in the open like this and Severus needed a proper place to rest and recuperate. She wasn't looking forward to it - Apparating an unconscious body was hard, as well as dangerous. Every time she was going to traverse time and space, the dead weight of Severus' body would drag her down, increasing the likelihood of her somehow botching the Apparition.

Still sniffling, Hermione bought herself a bit more time by rummaging through Severus' bag. She encountered food - as well as water reserves, more potions, parchment, ink and a quill, spare sets of clothes, and finally a map, which she immediately pulled out. It seemed that he had been ready to depart at any moment. Hermione ruefully thought back to the beaded handbag she had prepared for that particular purpose at well, still dangling from the coatrack in her room back in Cairo.

Smoothing out the world map, Hermione used the quill to mark whereabouts she had Apparated them to. Right now, they were located North-West of Cairo, quite close to the Mediterranean Sea. Next, she marked the final destination she had in mind, and marked the points in between - the ones she needed to Apparate them to. While she did so, she kept in mind the distance she was generally able to Apparate - which was in general quite far - but was careful not to overestimate herself. She was also limited to places she had visited before. She added a short descriptions to each destination. Hermione thanked her lucky stars for her past solo travels, as well as her summer holidays with her parents, which had taken her all over Europe.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she counted the Apparition-points under her breath. It would take her at least fourteen goes to get them to the destination she had in mind. It was… a lot - especially considering that every time she Apparated, she somehow needed to side-along the unconscious Severus as well.

She took a couple more deep breaths to steady herself, before stuffing everything back into the bag and righting. Taking Severus' hand in hers, she focused on their destination, then whirled around.

They landed on the sand - again - and Hermione harshly slammed into the ground - again. This time however, she was prepared to catch her fall and was able to prevent herself from faceplanting completely. In the distance, she could make out the Egyptian city of Sallum.

Severus unexpectedly let out a low groan, causing Hermione to pause and check him over. He didn't stir any further, though.

"Sorry," she whispered. Gathering her magic and focusing on their next destination, she took hold of him again.

Crack!

Panting, Hermione immediately fell forward when they landed, scraping her hands and knees on an asphalt road in the process. Wincing, she immediately forced herself to get back up and check on Severus, who's fall had luckily been cushioned by a dry shrub. Even though the temperature had dropped, Hermione was in the process of raising her hand to wipe away her sweat, when she froze.

Further down the road, a small Cretan boy was staring at her with wide, unbelieving eyes. Without thinking, Hermione immediately grabbed Severus' wrist and Apparated them away again.

With a loud splash and crack, Hermione was harshly thrown into shallow water. Gasping in surprise, she started spluttering as a wave of salty water simultaneously entered her mouth, nose and eyes. Shaking and coughing, she crawled out of the water and over to Severus, who was lying facedown on the beach. She turned him over with some effort, hastily brushing sand from his brow, which was furrowed in pain. "God," she groaned softly, while quickly scanning their surroundings. Luckily, the small stretch of beach was deserted safe from them - probably due to the fact it was early December. Hermione was still worried though; by the sounds of it, they were close to a busy main road. Still, Hermione allowed herself to lie down next to Severus for a second while she tried to catch her breath.

Hermione frowned up at the grey sky. To her dismay - if she recalled correctly - their next location was quite a ways away, and already, she was having a hard time with the rapid fire Apparition. She turned onto her belly to check the map, tracing her finger over the island of Corfu. It was a risky destination - it being one of the most densely populated islands of Greece. Perhaps she should tackle this one a bit differently…

After ten more minutes of rest, Hermione finally got back up and grabbed Severus, who was looking much paler than she liked. Still, she gathered all of her strength and turned on her heel.

As soon as the tight squeeze of Apparition let up, Hermione refused to let go of Severus again. Instead, she immediately focused on their next destination and Apparated again.

Bad idea. Hermione crumpled into a heap as soon as she landed in the small alleyway next to a hotel she had once stayed at. Immediately hit by a strong wave of nausea, she crawled over to some bins and threw up behind them. Severus grunted in pain beside her and she silently agreed as she slid down the wall, coming to a sit next to him. Slowly, black began invading her vision, and she was forced to slap her own cheeks in order to stay conscious.

Severus groaned again, drawing Hermione's attention. She sat up straighter when she realised he was actually coming to. "Severus?" she asked him, her hand falling onto his shoulder and squeezing it weakly.

She watched as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking in confusion at his unfamiliar surroundings. He swallowed with notable difficulty, so Hermione quickly dug the bottle of water from his bag and helped him sit up. He leaned heavily against her side while he gulped down the liquid. She found that she didn't mind.

"Where are we?" he rasped after a couple of sips, trying to sit up, but failing.

"Lecce," she answered.

"Italy?" he asked, surprised.

Hermione nodded without providing any further explanation. "How's the pain?" she asked instead.

He clenched his jaw. "Fine," he lied. He glanced down at his exposed chest, frowning at the blackened spots littering his healed cut.

"It appears to be caused by some kind of curse," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I did the best I could with what we had on hand." She fished out a Pain Potion, uncorked it, and handed it to him. "Take it. We still have a long ways to go."

He glanced at its label before putting it to his lips, apparently deeming it safe. "Do we?" he drawled in between sips, his words coming out slightly slurred. Hermione watched in relief as the muscles in his face slowly started relaxing. His eyes drooped.

"Rest," she murmured to him. She couldn't help herself as she took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Renewed determination shot through her as she watched him drift away, his head sagging sideways and coming to rest on her shoulder. "I'll make sure to get us to safety."

After resting for a while longer, Hermione leaning on Severus as much as he was leaning on her, she fished out a Strengthening Solution which she had spotted earlier. She had staved off resorting to using the potion for as long as possible, but figured that without it, she would be unable to continue on for much longer. She drank half. As soon as the potion entered her system, Hermione felt herself perk up. Her muscles and bruised body parts stopped hurting, her senses sharpened, and she suddenly had the urge to stand up and start doing jumping jacks.

Not wanting to waste the potion's effects, Hermione scrambled up into a crouching position, wrapped her arms around Severus and focused intently on their next destination.

Pop! Naples.

Snap! Rome.

Crack! Florence.

Bang! Milan.

Hermione fell to her knees, her fingers digging into the grass below her. She was severely out of breath, her skin was covered in sweat and her heart was pounding like mad. With trembling hands, she checked Severus over, who had paled significantly from their marathon Apparition. Without further thought, she downed the other half of the Strengthening Solution and grit her teeth. Almost there.

Crack! Turin.

Slam! Lyon.

She landed sprawled on a forest floor. Merlin, she was feeling rough. She desperately wanted to stay and rest, but judging from Severus' palor and the Strengthening Solution that was almost done running its course, that clearly wasn't an option. A couple of desperate tears leaked from her eyes. "Come on, Hermione," she encouraged herself, "you can do it". She grabbed Severus' hand with her own sweat-slicked one and gathered every bit of strength she still possessed.

Bang! Limoges.

Horrible pain laced through her hand. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Smash! Nantes.

"God!" she screamed, as she felt blood start seeping from her left hand.

Crash! They skidded into a low, stone wall. Audierne. They had made it. Hermione, however, was immediately faced with the stark reality of splinching three of her fingers in the process. Blood was flowing freely, and the pain that radiated from the stumps that were previously her thumb, index finger, and middle finger was almost unbearable. It nearly made her pass out.

Severely shaken, Hermione weakly pointed her wand at the front door of the small beach house and whispered, "Alohomora." It slowly creaked open. "Accio Essence of Dittany," she managed to bring out. She was met with vague sounds of doors slamming, glass shattering, and wood splintering, before she saw the little bottle sail towards her. She allowed it to land in the long grass before feeling around until her uninjured hand hit its cold glass container. Using her teeth, she unwrenched its cork and with badly shaking hands, she eventually managed for several droplets to hit her mangled fingers. Hermione hissed when green smoke started to appear and cried out in pain as she felt her fingers begin growing back.

As the bleeding halted and the pain gradually started abating, Hermione slowly blinked up at the clouded sky above them. They had somehow made it; they were safe. Nobody knew - not even Harry and Ginny - that Hermione was the sole owner of a small beach cottage off the coast of Audierne, France. She had inherited it from her parents, who had purchased it through Muggle means some odd years before their passing. This meant that the wizarding world was none the wiser of its existence. Hermione had made sure of it, too - the small plot of land was absolutely covered in Notice-me-not Charms, Muggle-Repelling Charms, Disillusionment Charms, and many other similar, carefully researched Protective Charms.

The house was quite simple really, but charming nonetheless. Its front garden was surrounded by low, stacked stone walls. The beach house itself sported white-washed walls, a grey-tiled roof and three smallish windows at the front. It had a small garage, too. Hermione's favourite feature, however, was the beautiful contrast of the forget-me-not blue painted front door, shutters, and garage door. The cottage was located along a long stretch of road, littered with other, similar beach homes along it. The smell, as well as the sound of the nearby sea was ever present here, and could be smelled and heard through every open door and window.

Seeing as it was about to rain, Hermione pushed herself up on trembling arms. Severus was laying on his back close by, and didn't stir when Hermione checked him over. He was still looking incredibly pale: the dark, necrotic-looking splotches on his chest stark against his white skin. It was slow going, but with three Featherlight Charms and a Levitating Charm doing all of the heavy lifting, Hermione was able to levitate Severus inside the house, steering him towards its only bedroom. Once there, she deposited him on the double bed. As soon as she had done so, Hermione lowered herself on the nearby armchair, and promptly fell asleep.

Hermione was woken again by pained moaning. Her eyes flew open at the sound. Evening had clearly fallen at that point; the bedroom was bathed in shadows. She flew over to Severus' side, ignoring her loudly protesting body. "Severus? Are you alright?" she asked worriedly. She grabbed his shoulder and shook him slightly. When Severus didn't respond, but his moans continued, Hermione summoned a Pain Potion from his bag and fed it to him. She frowned in worry when Severus stopped moaning, but started moving around restlessly instead. Rummaging around his bag, her eye fell on a bottle of Calming Draught. It was the more potent variety Hermione had gotten acquainted with all too well in the past, but as there wasn't another kind on hand, Hermione decided to give it to him anyway. To her relief, Severus immediately settled down after taking it, and she got busy with fluffing his pillow, removing his shoes, and covering him with the duvet.

Hermione looked contemplatively at the black splotches that were still covering Severus' chest. As long as she wouldn't be able to get his opinion, she would have to do research on her own. Unfortunately, while she had left some of her books at the beach house, almost all of them were on wizarding archaeology. Funnily enough, the first person she would turn to with questions about curse wounds was the current one afflicted by one. She furiously hoped Severus would regain consciousness soon. For now, Hermione used her wand to mark the borders of the blackened parts of Severus' skin red - that way, she could keep track of if, and subsequently how quickly, the curse would spread.

Sighing tiredly, Hermione gathered the empty potion bottles, took Severus' bag, and headed towards the kitchen. She figured there were probably still some canned goods left from the last time she had stayed there. Once there, she put on some soup, emptied the contents of Severus' bag and took stock of what was left. As her soup warmed, she unleashed an Organising Spell upon them and watched as doors, drawers, and cabinets flew open and the items lazily drifted towards their destinations.

Hermione was just about to sit down and eat her supper when unexpectedly, a faraway, weak-sounding voice reached her ears, "Hermione."

She immediately flew down the hallway, over to Severus' bedside and grabbed his hand. "Severus! Are you alright?"

He started shaking his head. "No, I-" He looked pained, like something was bothering him.

Hermione frowned at the sight. "Are you in pain? We only have one Pain Potion left… I was planning on brewing some more in the morning, but if it can't wait-"

"No, it's not that," he interrupted her. "Hermione-" he started saying again.

"Is it about your curse wound?" she asked, when he looked at her pleadingly.

He shook his head again, his frown deepening.

"It's alright," she shushed him, patting his hand. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Get some rest first. We'll talk in the morning."

"No-! I have to tell you something." The clear anguish on his face made Hermione pause.

"You can tell me tomorrow," she told him again, trying to keep her voice low and soothing for his sake.

He shook his head again. "I need to tell you now." He took in a shuddering breath before continuing, "I was there," he whispered. The blood had drained from his face. He looked haunted.

Hermione frowned. She scanned his face, searching for the meaning of his words. She started when she saw tears gathering. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the prospect of hearing something she probably shouldn't, Hermione withdrew her hands and quickly turned away. She made to leave, but was forced to stay put when she felt icy fingers wrap around her wrist.

"I was there, Hermione," he repeated.

She looked back again. His dark eyes were boring into hers, willing her to comprehend what he was saying. Then, they flickered over to the framed photograph of both her parents that stood on the bedside table.

Hermione froze as understanding dawned. He had been there. She wrenched Snape's weak fingers from her wrist and turned away to hide her facial expression from him. "Go to sleep Severus, we'll talk about this in the morning," she managed to bring out.

She quickly fled the room. A haze of tears obstructed her vision, causing her to barely be able to see where she was going. She stumbled into the kitchen and wrenched open every kitchen cabinet until she found where the potions had been stored. Hermione pulled out bottle after bottle, barely glancing at their labels, before finally finding the one she was looking for. She wandlessly uncorked the last bottle of potent Calming Draught and without hesitation, dumped its contents down the kitchen sink. The bottle slipped from her hands and rolled out of sight. Hermione clutched the kitchen counter as she watched the liquid disappear down the drain. She felt no remorse whatsoever. Twice now, that potion had proven to be more trouble than it was worth.

Hermione sank down in the chair closest to her and lowered her head into her trembling hands. Snape had been there, on the night her parents had been murdered. He had been there as they had been tortured. He had watched as they had been killed. A heaving sob racked through her body. Who was she kidding. If he had been there, he had probably partaken - maybe cast some of the Cruciatus' himself. 'Perhaps he had even been the one to end their lives.' As the thought crossed her mind, Hermione felt all her carefully built up self-control vanish. She folded into herself and wept.

That morning, Hermione silently entered the bedroom. Spelling open the curtains, she watched as bright daylight flooded the room. She perched on the chair next to Snape's bed and waited patiently for him to wake. She watched on detachedly, as Snape slowly opened his eyes and peered around in confusion. His eyes met hers. His confusion was briefly visible, before understanding seemingly dawned. He swiftly averted his gaze.

Hermione gestured towards the breakfast tray she had brought with her. "Eat," she only said. She robotically helped Snape sit up in bed before handing him his breakfast.

He ate in silence, while Hermione waited detachedly for Snape to finish. All the while, she simply stared at her folded hands, which were resting in her lap. Once he was done eating, she waved her wand to banish the tray back to the kitchen. She sat back down and carefully rearranged the pleats of her robes, before finally looking up again. Their eyes met.

"So," she began, "you were there."

Severus jolted slightly at her bluntness, then crossed his arms and turned away from her.

Hermione mirrored his pose. "I'm not leaving until we've discussed this," she stated. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him.

"You are using my indisposition against me," he finally said. "I feel absolutely no desire to discuss this."

Having had enough of his shenanigans, Hermione jumped up, her fists balling at her sides. "Severus Snape. Did you, or did you not participate in the torture and subsequent murder of my parents?" she asked him in a low, barely contained voice.

"NO!" he suddenly roared at her, causing Hermione to stumble back a step. Even from his seated position, he was somehow able to stare her down, his black eyes boring into hers. He was seething. 'I do not wish to discuss this!' he said through gritted teeth, punctuating every word before turning away from her again.

"I DON'T CARE!" she screamed, flying forward. She grabbed the photograph of her parents and shoved it in his face. "Look at them, Severus! Look their daughter in the eyes and tell me again that you don't want to discuss this!"

Severus simply lay back down and turned to lie on his side, facing away from Hermione. "I'm requesting you to leave," he told her flatly.

Hermione blinked at him in disbelief, before her eyes were involuntarily drawn back to the photograph that she was still holding. She had taken it on the beach nearby. In it, her dad pulled her mum to his side, their arms in the process of wrapping around each other in a loving embrace. They were both staring out at the sea, their expressions reflecting their state of bliss, both completely unaware of what their futures would hold - of what their daughter would do to them.

Hermione felt her heart ache, as she suddenly wished she could step through the photo and tell them that she loved them one more time - perhaps receive one of her dad's bear hugs she so sorely needed. Maybe her mum would kiss her on the forehead one last time, silently saying everything would be alright. Hermione wanted so desperately to tell them that she was sorry, tell them she'd had no choice.

After a moment, the sound of glass rattling violently in a photo frame pulled her out of her thoughts. Carefully, she put the photograph back down with shaking hands, turning it facedown so she wouldn't have to look at it any longer. Severus froze at the sound, but Hermione didn't notice.

She was about to leave the room when Severus' soft voice made her halt, "know that they didn't suffer, Hermione. I made sure of it."

Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath. She wanted to ask him: ask how on earth they hadn't suffered. She needed him to understand that she knew they must have been terrified. That at some point during that horrid night, they had looked death in the eye and had known that it would be their last night on earth. She wanted to laugh incredulously, yell, hug, hit, curse, or shake him until he told her exactly what had happened. Finally, she wanted to crawl into his arms, and silently ask him to comfort her.

In the end, she fled.

Running straight out the front door, Hermione was immediately assaulted by torrents of rain and strong winds sending her curls in disarray. She kept on running however, flew across the beachgrass that whipped against her shins, her feet barely hitting the ground as she fled that cursed beach house, fled from what she couldn't escape. She ran along the shoreline, ran until her lungs were burning and her legs were screaming and her clothes and shoes were sopping wet. She didn't stop, however. Didn't stop until she reached that stretch of beach. The one where she had last photographed her parents. Only there, did she sink onto her knees and dug her fingers into the sand, desperately trying to grab purchase of the people that were no longer there as she began pleading for their forgiveness in halting sobs.

Except for the howling winds, however, nobody answered.