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Chapter Text

Author Note: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter or Rowling's work (well, I mean, that's not true, I own an immense amount of fan related items in regards to Harry Potter, including but not limited to, robes, pop figures, wands and books). I do NOT own the copyright or rights to the work. This is my first work. Please, be kind.

Hermione Granger woke up in the medical wing – again.
She wondered how many times over the years she had ended up here. Petrified, injured because of the whispers of Voldemort and the war. Now, though, something felt different. Like someone had ripped through her mind and spun everything around. Hermione had never felt less like herself.
At seventeen, almost eighteen, Hermione still bore fresh scars from the final battle at Hogwarts, much like the castle around her. Healed with only the faintest marks of what had happened there. Harry and Ron had charged off to be aurors, as if their time as heroes the last seven years hadn’t been enough for them. Hermione, however, felt as if the world had stopped.
Displaced.
It was the closest thing she could describe to the feeling that sat in her heart. It made it hard to study, to live, to care. Headmistress McGonagall had been kind enough to let her return to prepare for her NEWTS, but even the stern-faced woman could tell that Hermione was just going through the paces. The insufferable know-it-all, as the late Professor Snape had dubbed her, didn’t really seem to care that much about her perfect marks.
Then the dreams started.
They enveloped her at night like a cocoon that she couldn’t escape, but they weren’t really like dreams. They felt like memories. Memories she had never lived. Most of them centered around a young man with long black hair and deep eyes that she could lose herself in. While she slept, Hermione loved the boy. Once she awoke though, she found she could no more remember the features of her face than any stranger in Hogsmeade. It was a wretched and wonderful feeling. On one hand, at night, she could feel again, she felt human, but as morning rose around her and she opened her eyes, Hermione felt empty.
“Oh, Miss Granger, you’re awake,” Madame Pomphrey said, bustling from her office.
Hermione shifted up and nodded. “What happened?”
Pomphrey sat a potion on the table, pepper up, and crossed her arms. “A hangover, as far as I can tell, Miss Granger.”
“Wait, what?” Hermione frowned, trying to pull through her memories. Yesterday was a Hogsmeade weekend. She wasn’t going to go, but Harry, Ginny and Ron had insisted. They had all met at the Three Broomsticks. The energy had been palpable. Hermione had barely walked through the door when her friends had all but attacked her.
Harry and Ginny were getting married.
She was happy for them, really, though she did think that Ginny was still a little young at just barely eighteen. But as they chatted over their butterbeers, a part of her realized that she was barely part of the conversation. They had lives now that were distinctly separate from her. Then Ron had looked at her and his eyes were searching. She knew what he wanted. He wanted what Harry and Ginny had.
They had kissed once in a broom closet at the final battle, but between the mourning and the recovery of Hogwarts they hadn’t talked about it. Hermione had loved him, immensely. It just felt like there was a wall between them now and, though she had promised she would never mention it again, when he had left them when they were all on the run had broken something between them. Ron had broken her heart. Once things had calmed down a little she couldn’t stop herself from remembering their years at Hogwarts and it made her wonder why she had ever liked him. He was an absolute git to her most of the time. He constantly made her feel bad for being smart and only Malfoy was above Ron in how cruel he could be. Which said something.
Hermione had discreetly got up and asked for a shot of fire whiskey from the bar. Rosmerta had taken one look at the girl and asked no questions, except to lean forward and tell her she deserved better. Hermione had been surprised, but then realized that Rosmerta had watched them all grow up. She had sighed then and asked the woman for another. After that, things turned a little blurry.
Madame Pomphrey sighed heavily, drawing Hermione’s attention back to the present. “In any case, you barely stumbled through the gates before you passed out. A couple of fifth years found you and notified the Headmistress.”
It was Hermione’s turn to sigh. “I suspect she wants to see me, then?”
“No,” the older woman said. “She just asked that you take better care in the future. You are an adult, Miss Granger, and you are not the first to over-indulge. Hagrid does so almost every weekend.”
Hermione’s lips twitched at that. Somehow that didn’t surprise her. She looked at Madame Pomphrey. “So, am I good to go, then?”
“Yes. Take the potion, it’ll help with the hangover, otherwise you are free to leave.”
Hermione obeyed.
Once she left the room, she looked around absently. It was only Sunday, so she technically didn’t have anything to do. So, she went to the one place that she felt any peace.

The cemetery was new, near the Black Lake. At first, it was just Dumbledore’s grave, but after much discussion, it was decided that the other heroes and lost souls of the war with Voldemort would be buried in the same place. It was painful to realize that it took an immense amount of space on the grounds to accommodate the sheer amount of graves necessary and the Ministry almost stopped the entire thing. Not good publicity for the failed government, but McGonagall insisted, instead opting to have it spill into the Forbidden Forest. It was all but empty now anyway after the battle. The spiders had all been slaughtered and the centaurs had left; they didn’t trust anyone but Dumbledore to keep the fragile treaty between them.
When it first opened to the public it was packed with people, but eventually it waned. Life had to go on, after all. If wizards and witches were good at anything it was moving on. It was something that Hermione struggled with. Maybe it was because she was muggle-born. Hermione walked through the long rows of stones until she had stepped inside the wooded area where a large tombstone sat solitary under a large tree. She sat down against it and breathed out.
“Hello, Professor Snape,” she murmured.
Hermione wasn’t sure when it happened, but every time she went walking she would end up here. She hadn’t hated Snape the way Harry and Ron had, but did find the man perfectly terrifying. He had always been unduly cruel to her, but she had always swallowed her insecurities down and tried her best anyway. Knowing what she knew now, it made more sense.
She reached up and gently scraped a leaf off the monument. Originally, the Ministry didn’t even want to give Snape such an immense homage to his life, but Harry had insisted. At the posthumous trial of the professor, Harry had truly went to bat for the man. He had shown them the memories Snape had given him, had persuaded the portrait of Dumbledore to admit everything and had several witnesses of Snape’s contacts over the years to attest to the man’s strength of character. It was complicated for Harry, of course. It had taken the young man some time to admit that fallibility of his parents and godfather when it came to the bullying they had forced on the young Snape, but it really came down to the fact that despite all of it, Snape had risen above it.
Perhaps that was what first drew Hermione to him. Snape’s younger years resonated with her. It mirrored her first year, even down to a certain Potter boy and his friend making fun of her. If it hadn’t been for the troll, Hermione wondered if she would have ended up as isolated and bullied as Snape had been. It was also more. It was because Snape was also alone.
Despite the beautiful monument, he was never visited.
Forgotten. Displaced.
Just like her.

Chapter Text

“Hermione, why won’t you just come with me?”
She sighed and looked at Ron who was sitting grumpily next to her at Flourish and Botts. The remodeled bookstore still smelled like new magic, and it sent goosebumps down her spine. Ron had asked to meet her in Diagon Alley a couple weeks after Harry and Ginny’s announcement.
Hermione swiped her hair off her shoulder and closed the book that she had been attempting to read. “Because Ron, I’m just not ready. I love your family, I do, but it just reminds me of everything that has been lost.”
Ron scowled. “You mean your parents, don’t you? You could have restored their memories. I still don’t understand why you’re being like this.”
Her heart squeezed and tears burned in her eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. “Ron, please. Just stop.”
He groaned and leaned back on the couch staring open mouthed at the ceiling.
Hermione looked out the window at the passerby. Almost immediately after the battle, after the funerals, she had gone to Australia. She had been so excited. It took her no time at all to find them and her wand hand was so flinching in anticipation. Then… she saw them.
Her parents – and someone else.
They were sitting at a table in a restaurant and laughing. It hurt so much how much she missed them, but she felt frozen, because next to them… was a baby. Maybe just a few months old. Shaking, Hermione had sat herself close to them and listened while her heart broke into pieces. It took everything she had not to fall apart right there.
They had a baby and they had named her Hermione.
Something had rolled at her feet and she looked down. A pacifier. Shaking, she picked it up and stood. Bringing it over to her oblivious parents.
Hermione smiled, though she was almost positive it looked more like a grimace. “I think this is yours?”
Her father smiled. “Oh, thank you so much, young lady. Our little Hermione is always dropping it.”
“It’s not a problem. Is… is she yours?”
Her mother beamed. “Yes. Our little miracle. We just moved to Australia a little over a year years ago and, I don’t know, I guess we just realized, well, new home, new beginning – why not?”
“That’s wonderful,” Hermione said. “Do you have any other children?”
The woman shook her head. “No, I guess we were just too busy.” Something passed across her face as if she was trying to sort something out, but then she shook her head. “Never too late, you know. We couldn’t be happier in any case.”
“Of course. Well, good to meet you. Have a nice day,” Hermione said and all but run from the restaurant until she came to her hotel.
She collapsed on her bed and sobbed. Hermione knew she couldn’t do it. They would hate her if they realized and right now, they were happy. Too many people had lost everything in the war, she wouldn’t do it to her own parents. She couldn’t.
“Her-mi-one?” Ron said slowly drawling her back to the present.
“I’m sorry, Ron. I’ll give you the presents for everyone, but I’m not coming for the holidays.”
Ron pulled his fingers through his red hair. “Fine. Be like that.” He went to stand and was almost immediately knocked down by someone walking by.
“Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry,” the stranger said. “Ron! It’s so good to see you.”
Hermione looked up at Padma Patil who was looking at Ron, her eyes beaming and then Hermione turned to Ron who was also gazing at the woman in front of him. It took her a second to realize what was happening. They were infatuated with each other. Maybe they didn’t realize, but it seemed clear as she listened to them. Ron and Padma were talking about the Ministry. Ron worked there as an auror in training and Padma had taken an apprenticeship in the Muggle Liaison office. The way they interacted and stood slightly too close made it clear to Hermione that there was something between them and she felt… relieved.
Taking the gifts from her magically enhanced bag she left them on the couch and waved goodbye to them who barely realized she had left. As she stepped outside, she realized another connection was lost. It was as if something was trying to make her as disconnected as possible from the world around her.

Hermione was dreaming.
She was on Platform ¾, but something was off. Mainly, everyone was far too old. Harry, Ron and Ginny were years older, and they had little kids, a couple wearing the black robes of Hogwarts. Hermione looked down at herself and saw that she too was different. She wore clothes befitting a ministry-official, her hair pulled tightly back. Her entire sense of self felt skewed and Hermione, even in her dream-state, felt an immense sense of unhappiness. She was standing next to Ron who had an embarrassing gut protruding from his very Arthur Weasley-looking clothes. He smiled at her and she realized that she was married to him. They had children together. Her stomach twisted as he patted his rotund belly and wrapped an around her waist.
No, no, no!
Sitting up in her bed, Hermione shuddered. If she ever needed further proof that she did not want to be in a relationship with Ron, that dream was it.

Hermione looked around the room as everyone ate in the Great Hall and pushed her food around her plate. The world continued to move forward. It was always curious to her, as the year recovered how people like Sirius and Remus were tragedies, lost too soon, and Snape wasn’t. They were the same age! Remus and Snape had both been thirty-nine when they died. From Hermione’s perspective it was all tragic and senseless. Almost everyone from the original Order of the Phoenix were now dead.
Dumbledore, in way too many ways, had failed the wizarding world.
His need for secrecy, to keep certain things to himself, and his proclivity to use others to serve his needs had caused so much unnecessary loss. Harry was bad enough. The man had all but used the boy for years, unwilling to share with him the dangers that were brewing and had long known or at least strongly suspected what the prophecy meant. Not including allowing Harry to live with the Dursley’s under the worst kind of abuse. Some divine-love protection. Snape, though, felt like the biggest failure.
Snape had been bullied constantly at school with his bullies hardly ever receiving punishment for their misdeeds (Sirius had tried to kill Snape by all but feeding him to Lupin!) and yet, people were surprised when Snape went toward the Dark Arts. When he heard the prophecy, he had no idea who it meant, but when he did, Snape bravely went to the one man who he thought would help. Instead, Dumbledore treated him like he was scum and forced him to be a spy. The fact that Dumbledore failed to protect the Potters only seemed to further push Dumbledore to use Snape all the way to his death.
Hermione sighed as the anger tingled in her fingers. It was the one emotion that she could still acutely feel and lately most of it felt directed toward the old Headmaster.
Standing, Hermione left the Hall and began walking, knowing where she would end up. If she ‘accidentally’ kicked the white tomb of Dumbledore as she strolled past, leaving a muddy footprint, then well that was his problem.
Once, back in front of Snapes grave, Hermione sat, pulling a book from her bag. The magically extended bag was still full of everything from when they were on the run. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to empty it. Even though she had seen Voldemort’s body herself, there was still a tingling fear inside of her.
She had lost track of time when something red fluttered in front of her. Her head snapped up as it landed on the top of Snape’s gravestone.
Hermione’s mouth fell open.
“Fawkes?”

Chapter Text

“Fawkes?”
The beautiful bird titled its head at her and Hermione almost had to resist the urge to do the same. It was so unusual. No one had seen the phoenix since Dumbledore’s death almost two years ago. It tittered at her, holding it’s leg out to her and she realized a letter was wrapped around it. Her fingers trembling, Hermione took it.
The scrawl on the front was recognizable even without the headmaster’s insignia pressed into the top left corner.
Dumbledore.
She opened the letter. Her heart pounding.

“Dear Miss Granger,
I am sure you are very confused as to how this letter finds you so long after my death. Rest assured. I am indeed dead. The curse from my ring has all but ensured it and if things have gone as planned Severus has ended it for me. As someone has recently pointed out, I am a ‘manipulative old bastard with a God complex’. Perhaps, they are right. In fact, Miss Granger, I know they are.
Nothing has changed since I was in my youth. I believed only I could control what went on, that only I knew what was best. It was those damning thoughts that led to my sister’s demise and yet I didn’t learn. Even as the bodies piled around me, I only saw other’s missteps and did not see the blood that stained my own hands. I believed so fully in my own ability to master the world around me that I have almost become what I sought to fight against. I may not have attempted to rule the Wizarding World as Grindelwald and Tom did, but I used my power, my reputation and, even, fear to get what I wanted from others. Motives be damned.
As such, what happens now will happen without my consent, because another, wiser than me, has taken that option from me. Despite what I had believed to be for the greater good, others have seen another way, a better way. They, not I, will build a world of hope; they have already done so much just to spite my pride, it seems, and ease the loss of life. The blood will never be purged from my hands completely and I must go to my grave with that guilt.
You need only to know this, Miss Granger, I am sorry. I am heartened to know that you will find your path forged from the strength that only someone as intelligent and kind-hearted as you can.
Sincerely,
Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Hogwarts
Ps. Do not tell me who you are until the time is right – I am a ‘doddering old fool’ after all, as another dear friend has taken pains to tell me.”

Hermione stared down at the letter in her fingers. “What in Merlin’s baggy Y Fronts?” She stared quizzically at the letter and then Fawkes. “Do you know?”
The bird shuffled its feathers. That’s when she saw it. Hiding inside the bird’s red and orange feathers was a gold chain.
“What’s that, Fawkes?” Her fingers lightly grasped the chain when it tumbled out.
A Time-Turner. Her Time-Turner. And it was spinning.
She tried to let go of the chain, but Hermione’s fingers caught as Fawkes flew into the air. She stumbled a few steps backwards when the phoenix stopped, rising its head high, its cry ringing through the graveyard, its wings fully extended. Hermione’s scream was cut off as Fawkes burst into flames, her fingers still around its body.
Then there was nothing.

Severus Snape glared at the table across from him. James had his arm wrapped around Lily and the other Marauders were gathered around them like some sort of shield. Just three months. Three months and he would be free of this place. Free of them. He felt eyes on him and he looked up. Several of his ‘friends’ from Slytherin were watching him and Snape clenched his jaw.
This summer he would be taking the Dark Mark. Lucius had insisted, despite Snape’s hesitation and he felt boxed in. Granted, the appeal of dark magic was alluring and even from a purely scientific point of view it was an attractive subject, but Snape had little interest in the Dark Lord’s position. He was half-blood after all, and while he bore no love for his own muggle father, he knew not all were like that. In truth, the Dark Lord seemed more a bully than anything else which reminded Severus far too keenly of the torture he had experienced at the hands of the Marauders. It seemed his fate in life was to be bent to the will of others.
Standing, he gathered his books. It was always better to leave the Great Hall before the Marauders. It gave them less chance to attack him. He slunk from the room. Over the past seven years, it had been in his best interest to learn how to move quietly and without drawing attention. Of course, they always seemed to find him regardless. It was one reason why he had followed Sirius that fateful night. He thought he could finally discover how they were tracking him, maybe even have the damning proof Snape desperately desired to finally get his bullies punished. Alas, apparently even being led quite literally into a lion’s den, or werewolf den as it were, was not enough to even earn them as much as a slap on the wrist. Somehow, they’d come off as the pitiable ones; not Severus. It’s why he hated Hogwarts. It was one more place that hated him for no other reason than he existed.
Severus kept to the edges of corridors as he rushed from the castle. He had a free period after lunch and desperately needed to study. The attacks from the Marauders had gotten so bad that he couldn’t even go to the library; he had to resign himself to the one place no one ever went: the Forbidden Forest.
His breathing became easier as he realized he was going to escape unhindered. The trees swallowed him whole. Severus didn’t have to go far. He had found a clearing, not far from the Black Lake, where he could study and just relax without worry. The groundskeeper Hagrid had found him there once, last year, but to Severus’s surprise didn’t turn him in. Granted, he hadn’t looked the best. Sirius had cornered him outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts and beaten him to the point that his eye socket was broken and bleeding, his lip split, and his eye was almost sealed shut.
Hagrid had taken one look at him, turned around and came back ten minutes later with a slab of meat. He handed it to Severus, put a hand on his shoulder, before walking away. The next time, Severus had come out, he found a make-shift desk and chair. When his sixth year was done, Hagrid had built him a lean-to to hide under when the weather was bad. They never spoke about it, but Severus suspected the great, burly man understood what he was going through.
Earlier into Severus’ current and last year, he had heard James Potter mocking Hagrid as he brought in one of his great pumpkins from his gardens. The big man had his usual goofy grin and had tried to hand it off to Flitwick of all people, nearly crushing the much tinier man beneath it. Loudly, Potter had called Hagrid ‘a stupid oaf fit for nothing better than cleaning dragon excrement’. The look on the man’s face as he took in the hateful words flew Severus into a rage at the Marauders. Severus transfigured their robes into women’s lingerie, right there in the Great Hall. The next day, they broke his arm. Hagrid, on the other hand, left him an entire pile of Chocolate Frogs at his secret hideaway.
Severus tossed his bag on the desk in his current time and sat down on his favorite spot which was a large swath of moss that had one solid beam of light that fell through the heavy trees of the Forbidden Forest. His legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned on his arms and soaked in the warm light. He was contemplating grabbing one of his books to read when something large and heavy fell in his lap.
He began to curse when he realized what it was.
A girl. A very pretty and unconscious girl.

Chapter Text

Hermione was fire.
She was pure fire as Fawkes exploded in her fingertips.
The tinkle of the time-turner as it twisted sent the world into darkness only lit by the fires that were around her and in her. Her clothes had disappeared, and she was naked in the void as the phoenix fire consumed around her. Was she burning alive? If so, she should feel pain, but it was like the pull of Apparition. Like an uncomfortable tugging. She looked around at the darkness and then her hand waved in front of her and her heart jumped.
It was smooth. Her arm was smooth, unscarred. The arm that had Bellatrix had carved into, the constant reminder of her blood status. She looked down, all her scars were gone. Not just the ones from the war. The scar on her knee when she fell of her bike as a girl, her appendix scar, everything. She was being healed. No, Hermione realized. She was being reborn.
Then below her a small circle started to open, and she could see grass. A boy, no more than seventeen or eighteen, leaned against the ground looking right up at her. He wore black robes with long black hair that fell around his shoulders. The boy from her dreams, Hermione realized. The one who made her feel alive. She felt a strange bit of disappointment as she realized that this too must be a dream, because he only appeared when she was sleeping. Shrugging, she pushed toward him, reaching her fingertips out that still burned with fire until they crested the circle, then she was being pushed through it. Falling.
Then Hermione lost consciousness again.

Heavy shadows fell over the Forbidden Forest as Hermione awoke. She blinked tiredly at the familiar trees that she had so often walked through, but something felt… off. Then it hit her. Sitting up, she gazed around the cemetery or what should have been the cemetery. But there was nothing here. Nothing except a rough-shod desk under a lean-to. And a boy.
Hermione grabbed instinctively for her wand, but it wasn’t in her sleeve. Suddenly, the memories came rushing back and she peered down at herself, terrified that she was still naked, but her clothes were all back. Her bag and wand, however, sat with the boy where he was staring at her like she was some sort of fairy.
The boy had long black hair, a strong nose and black eyes. He seemed familiar and not just from her dreams. Then he did something that sent a chill down her spine, he steepled his fingers and raised a long dark eyebrow at her. It hit her. Snape. It was Severus Snape. Snape as a teenager. She had travelled through time, but she wasn’t sure exactly when. Obviously, when he was still at school. Probably his last couple years, if she had to guess. Which meant she was in the late seventies, early eighties. Holy bell bottoms and disco.
“Who are you?” He asked so suddenly and sharply that she jumped.
His voice hadn’t quite matured all the way to how she knew him, but it was still so similar that a shiver ran down her spine. He was trying to look menacing, but honestly, Hermione could see the fear behind his eyes.
“I’m Hermi—”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie.”
Her shoulders fell and she looked at him perplexed. “I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are.” He grabbed her beaded bag and she started to argue as he reached inside and pulled out her wallet. “Jean H.G. Ranger.” He waved the identification card at her and Hermione blinked in shock.
Jean H.G. Ranger?
Her mind went into overtime. The phoenix fire and time turner had taken her more than back in time, it had changed things about her. Her scars were all gone. But changing her name? She had never heard of anything like that before. She would have to figure out what was going on, but right now, she had to deal with Snape.
“I… I go by my middle name. Hermione.”
Snape looked at the card for a moment, his brow furrowing, as he thought. “I guess, I can believe that. Fine, Hermione. Where in Merlin’s Beard did you come from?”
She gazed at him innocently. “What do you mean?”
Snape stood and waved his arm. “You fell from the sky.”
Hermione bit her lip. “How do you know I fell from the sky,” she countered back.
“Because you fell on me.”
“Did I?” She felt her cheeks warm. “Sorry. I… apparated. Must have been off.”
Snape snorted. He walked around the desk and leaned on it, crossing his arms over his chest, in such a Professor Snape way that she almost bit her tongue to keep from laughing. “You can’t apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds.”
Hermione looked down. How stupid of her to assume that of all people Snape wouldn’t know that. She wasn’t sure what to do. Her mind had been trying to think of a cover story, but now nothing seemed to make sense.
“Tell me who you are or I’m going to Headmaster Dumbledore,” Snape demanded.
She jumped at that, taking a few steps toward him. He looked startled, like a deer, and whipped around to move behind his desk. Hermione stopped, confused. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He raised his wand at her. “Says you. But these are strange times, and you fell from the sky. That shouldn’t be possible. Not here.”
Hermione had a feeling it was more than just that, but she let it go. Breathing, she tried to recall everything she knew about this time. She wasn’t sure exactly when she came, but it was around the first war with Voldemort. If Snape was at school, then he hadn’t taken the mark yet, probably. Honestly, it was irking her how little she actually knew. Some know-it-all. “I can’t explain everything, at least, not right now, but, just please. Don’t tell Dumbledore.”
Snape studied her. His hair fell over his face, and she realized he was doing it to hide his emotions. So, Hermione mused, he didn’t know occlumency yet, or at least not very well. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “But I guess the question is, what now? Do you have someplace to go?”
Hermione felt shocked. She didn’t. She had nowhere. No home. No friends. She couldn’t go back to Hogwarts, obviously. “I guess, I’ll have to stay out here.”
His eyes widened. “You can’t do that. It still gets cold and it could rain.”
She rolled her eyes. “Rain in Scotland? Never. Look, if you give me back my bag I have a tent in there. I can set wards, so no one comes close.”
Snape lifted the small, beaded bag. “In here? How big is your extension charm?”
“As big as I need it to be.” She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “It’s getting dark. If I’m going to have to set it up, then I’d rather do it now.”
“Alright,” he said, hesitantly. He moved slowly around the desk and handed it to her. His cheeks turned bright red as their fingers touched and he almost fell backwards trying to get away from her.
Instinctively, she reached out to steady him, but that was the wrong thing to do. Snape jerked, pulling her and him down to the ground to the hard.
“Sorry,” Hermione said. “I was trying to steady you.”
She had never seen Snape look so flustered. On one hand, he looked like he had just been scalded with burning hot water, on the other, absolutely confused as to how he had ended up on the ground. His arms were thrown back and he looked like he was afraid to touch her. His head was leaned back so far that he was practically looking behind him.
“Can you get off me,” he gritted.
“Oh, yeah, of course.”
She carefully stood, making sure to avoid hitting him in his private area. He sat up, his hair falling around his face.
“Really, I’m sorry.”
His fingers twined around each other, nervously. “It’s fine. I’m just not used to gir- I mean, people touching me.”
It was Hermione’s turn to blush. It all made sense. He was so awkward, because she was a girl. And Snape wasn’t good with the fairer sex. As far as she knew, Lily was the only girl he had ever loved, and they were nothing more than friends. Now, Hermione had literally dropped into his life, falling on him twice. Which was probably as close as strangers could get. She had never considered herself a beauty; cute was the best she could manage with her own meager supply of self-esteem. But she was sure, for someone like Snape, even a so-so cute girl touching him had to be a lot.
Of course, if she really wanted to be honest, she hardly had any better experience than him. Krum didn’t count. She hadn’t even done anything with him. Her awkwardness at fourteen had ensured that. Then her kiss with Ron – that had been the epitome of her interaction with a boy. A closet – during a war – with death surrounding them. Besides that, no one had ever taken an interest in her. To coin Snape’s future self: she was an insufferable little know-it-all, hardly what boys looked for in a girl.
“Don’t worry about it,” she tried to say, lightly. “It was my fault. Both times.”
She heard a bell ring in the distance and Snape jumped. “Oh, roasted lizard tails! It’s curfew.” He stood and wiped his clothes off. “I have to go. My prefect is going to kill me.” Snape began to walk away, but stopped. He didn’t turn around. “Will you be here tomorrow? If I come back?”
“I have nowhere else to be at the moment,” Hermione said honestly. “I will have to figure out what to do about food though.”
He reached into his robe, pulled out a roll, and tossed it to her. “I’ll bring you more in the morning. I’m Severus, by the way. Severus Snape.” He ran out of the Forbidden Forest and towards Hogwarts leaving Hermione alone in the dark.

Chapter Text

      Hermione quickly set up the tent and placed up her wards. The light of the castle illuminated the forest where she was, and it was strangely comforting. Snape’s departure allowed her to think. Something she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to do, but it was strange. She should have felt angry, hurt or filled with grief over what had happened. Strangely, she felt exhilarated. It was like the feeling she used to have when studying, the knowledge that would seep into her soul and become a part of her. That’s how she felt right now. She should miss Harry and Ron, miss her time, but a part of her knew she had already been displaced from it for a long time before she ever came here. Now that this happened, Hermione felt excited. She had a purpose.

      She sat down at the small dining room table that Harry, Ron and she had sat at for an entire year and emptied her bag. Just like Snape had told her, her wallet now said she was Jean HG Ranger, born in London, September 9^th, 1959. When she saw her birthdate, she laughed and almost immediately covered her mouth with her hands, surprised at the sound. Hermione didn’t know the last time she laughed. Several other items in her purse now reflected the new identity. Even her school papers and scrolls expressed the change, down to the date. It said she attended Hogwarts from 1971 until 1977. A part of her wondered if the school itself had such a record or if it was just part of whatever strange persona she had been given, like a fake id. She tried several spells and charms to get it to change back, but nothing happened.

      Luckily, the tent still had a few packets of tea, so she made herself some and curled up outside, staring at Hogwarts through the dense trees. The letter from Dumbledore hadn’t said much, except for him to wax on about what a dunderhead he had been. Hermione could have told him that. The thing that perturbed her was the people he had mentioned. The war was over. So, who had he been talking about. Had they played some part in the final battle or in the Order of the Phoenix? And why on Earth, would they want to send her back in time? Her experience with the Time Turner was limited to her third year and while she had studied everything she could about time travelling, it had been a while.

      Hermione sighed, pondering the events of this morning. Fawkes had been wearing her time-turner and it had started spinning or perhaps had already been spinning before it landed. She wasn’t sure since it had been hidden inside his plumage. Then Fawkes had molted with both her and the Time-Turner. It took her to some limbo where, just like the phoenix, Hermione was reborn. She supposed she should be relieved she hadn’t been reverted to a baby. It still begged the question as to why and how. She had never heard anything about such a thing before which did scare her slightly. Although, it didn’t seem improbable that a wizard hadn’t thought of doing such a thing before.

      Then there was Snape.

      The irony that he had been in the exact spot his gravestone would be was almost too much. Then, of course, there was his personality. She was at least twenty years in the past, so she supposed that her surly potions master could be an awkward teenager. Harry had told her as much. It was just hard to wrap her head around. A shy, unconfident Snape. Hermione could see glimmers of the man but it was hidden behind years of abuse by the Marauders and probably his father. She could recall that his father was muggle and had hated magic, forcing Snape’s mother to abandon her gift. They also were not well off, despite the fact that she came from a pure-blood family. It couldn’t have been easy for him.

      Then again, maybe it was because she couldn’t quite understand why people were so cruel to him. Snape was smart and successful; his mastery of not only potions, but occlumency, legilimency and even defense against the dark arts was downright amazing. He was also by no means the conventional handsome man that the witches swooned over (she thought of Lockhart), but he was definitely not ugly. She hadn’t thought it when he was an adult either. His hair was black and silky, his face angular and masculine, his eyes black and dreamy. Hermione almost dropped her tea at her musings. Dreamy. She must be tired.

      Chuckling, Hermione stood and stretched. Feeling more at peace than she had in a year or more. Perhaps, she would speculate why that was. But not today.

      Snape woke with a smile on his face. A part of him wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing. A lonely boy’s wish. It seemed impossible. A beautiful girl literally falling into his lap. Her story made it seem even more improbable. Things like this didn’t happen to him. Snape was the one at the short end of the stick and he was usually being hit with it. But a dream couldn’t be touched and he had felt her, twice. The warmth of her body against him, the smell of her hair (vanilla and roses) and that mass of hair against his cheek.

 He got dressed early, running down to the Great Hall and shoved pockets full of food into his robe and his bag before racing to the Forbidden Forest. His feet came to a halt when he saw nothing. It was just his usual spot, bereft of any tent or girl. In fact, there seemed to be almost no sign of the happenings of yesterday. Disappointment hit his stomach, and he closed his eyes. Go figure, he muttered to himself. How could he ever believe that something amazing could happen to him? He was such a fool. He pulled his fingers through his hair and began turning away.

“Snape!”

He froze. His eyes flickered toward the voice, but he still didn’t see anyone. Then a hand popped out of nowhere a few yards away and it gestured for him to come closer. Figuring he had truly gone insane, he followed it. It grabbed his tie and yanked him forward.

Snape blinked as a tent and small campfire appeared in front of him. Hermione stood next to him in pajamas. She gently patted down his tie.

“Sorry,” she said, yawning. “I was too tired to take down the spells. You didn’t bring coffee, did you?”

He shook his head. “I can tomorrow,” he told her, too awestruck to feel embarrassed. “How did you do the spells so well? I couldn’t sense anything at all.”

Hermione shrugged. “Practice. You brought food, at least? I appreciate the roll, but I am starved.”

Snape followed her into the tent and raised an eyebrow. “It’s bigger on the inside.”

She stopped walking and frowned at him. “You’ve never seen one of these? I thought they were pretty common in the wizarding world.”

He flushed. “My father was a muggle. He didn’t like magic, so I haven’t really seen stuff like this.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, softly. “I was pretty surprised the first time I saw one, too. Which was only like four years ago, so don’t feel bad.”

Following her into the little kitchenette he upended his pockets and bag. “I wanted to bring you eggs and such, but that’s not really easy to carry. I thought it would beg too many questions if I asked for a box.”

Hermione nodded. “I understand. I really appreciate this.” She sat down and grabbed one of the many muffins he had brought her. “Would you like to eat with me?”

Snape’s eyes widened. “I… I don’t know.” The reality of the situation was hitting him. He was alone, in a tent, with a girl in her pj’s and, for whatever reason, she was being kind to him. No one was ever this nice to him.

“Snape? Come on, I don’t bite, promise. I’d rather not eat alone.”

He nodded and sat down across from her, picking up a small loaf of bread, pulling it apart. His hair fell in front of his face, and he looked at her through the small veil it offered. She was giving him a sort-of lopsided smile, like she wasn’t sure what to make of him. He swallowed. Anxiety pricked him. He couldn’t screw this up, whatever this was.

“What year are you in school,” she asked.

“Seventh. Three months and I’ll be done with this place.”

She bobbed her head, pulling a pen from her hair and scribbled something down on a piece of paper.

He looked at the muggle writing device, his brow furrowing. “Your muggle-born, aren’t you?”

She didn’t look up from where she was scribbling. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Startled, he looked down at the piece of bread he had mutilated. “No. I was just curious.”

She tapped the pen to her lip, before jotting down another piece of information. Finally, she looked up at him. “Do you think you could get me a couple books from the library?"

Snape scowled. “First, food. Now, books. What’s in it for me?”

“The kindness of your heart?” She chuckled, looking at him, amused.

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Information. I want to know who you are.”

“I don’t know if I can tell you that.”

“Then I don’t know if I can help you,” he sneered.

Hermione breathed out slowly. She had almost forgotten that this was Snape she was talking to. “Please, I don’t know how I got here and I’m trying to figure out why or at the very least, an idea of what I’m supposed to do now. I don’t know who I can trust or if it’s safe for me to go out.”

Her face was so earnest that he believed her. He could see she was conflicted. “Is it because of what’s going on now?” The impending war with the Dark Lord had many on edge, especially those that didn’t share in a pureblood heritage.

Hermione bit her lip. “Yes and no.”

He frowned. “Just give me something. A tidbit, something real about you that shows me that I can trust you.”

She contemplated what he said for a moment, her eyes flickering down at the piece of paper. “Okay. Jean Ranger is a fake identity I was given; I’m assuming to protect me and possibly allow me to live here without being afraid. My real name is Hermione Granger and you are now the only person who knows that.”

Snape breathed out. It was honestly more than he had expected. He also preened at the thought that he was the only who got to know it. “Yeah, that’ll be fine, for now. What books do you need?”

She handed him a list and he raised an eyebrow.

“Fantastic Creatures and where to find them? These are all books about magical creatures. You think that’s what brought you here?”

Hermione bit her lip. Wondering how much more she should tell him. “You said it yourself. You can’t apparate onto the grounds. Anything else and I feel like Dumbledore would have been alerted so it would have to be something else, something outside of a wizard’s magic.”

“Still, I don’t know of any magical creatures with teleportation abilities. Fairies, maybe. Unless you’re suggesting the squid threw you from the Black Lake or a centaur catapulted you from outside the school’s boundary.”

“Do you have to argue with me,” she said, grumpily, wishing she had some coffee.

Snape leaned forward, his dark eyes intent. “Yes. Especially when I’m not given enough information to understand why you’re so intent on it. I can see in your eyes that you’re sure that you think you’ll find the answer in one of these books and I want to know why.”

“And who says I want your help in figuring this out?”

He waved the paper. “I am helping. Of course, I can leave if you think you can find the books you need without me.”

Hermione glared at him, annoyed. She crossed her arms. “You know, I could just go out there and find some other student to help me.”

“Someone who wouldn’t go straight to Dumbledore? Doubtful.”

“And why are you so willing to go behind his back?” She, of course, had her suspicions, but couldn’t tell him that.

      Snape smirked. “I have my reasons. Plus, this is the most interesting thing that has happened in years.” It was true, besides the rumors of the Dark Lord, his only excitement in life was running from the Marauders.

      Hermione had to resist the urge to bang her head against the table. “Then why are you being so difficult?”

      “Because I can tell you know the real reason or at least strongly suspect it and I want to know.”

      And he called me insufferable, she thought furiously. “Just, let me research it a bit first. I just met you yesterday…” Or eight years ago. “…If you show me, I can trust you, maybe, maybe I’ll tell you.”

      His eyes narrowed slightly and then he slightly bowed his head. “That would be agreeable.”

      Feeling grumpier by the minute, Hermione hunched down in her chair. “Don’t you have class?”

      “It’s Saturday. So, I have nowhere else to be.” His smirk was so condescending that she wanted to reach across the table and smack him.

      “Fine,” she relented. Hermione stood. “I have to get dressed. I’ll be right back. Don’t touch my stuff.”

      Snape watched her as she disappeared from the kitchen. He could hear rustling as she got dressed and he felt his heart speed up. He had relaxed somewhat while they were talking, but now his insecurities were beginning to spill through. He hated how awkward he was. The only time he felt confident was when he spoke; more often than not, he knew more than other people and he could use that against them. It was easier to pretend if he was lording his intellectual superiority. Hermione was different. He could tell, her brown eyes gleamed with unbridled depths of knowledge. It felt like an unfair advantage that she would be as smart as she was beautiful. He was smart, but he was just a greasy git, if the kids at the school were to be believed.

      When she returned, she was wearing a simple button down shirt and tight jeans. His cheeks heated up. Definitely muggle-born.

      Hermione sat down again and rested her chin on her hands. “I have a proposition.”

      He swallowed. “What?”

      “I want you go to the library now.” She raised his hand to stop him from arguing. “I really do need those books, Severus. I also want you to look at the school’s records and see if you can find my name, my fake name, in them. I know it’s an odd request, but, please, just indulge me for now. You can come back for lunch.”

      Severus didn’t want to at all. He was worried the next time he left, she really would disappear, but he understood her logic, and begrudgingly, respected her for it. She was single-minded, like him. He didn’t know why, but it made him like her more.

      He nodded and moved to stand. When she jumped up too, he shirked back, but she turned and grabbed something from the kitchen cabinet. Grinning, triumphantly, she handed him a thermos. “Coffee – please.”

      Snape grinned despite himself. “You really want your coffee, don’t you?”

      She blushed. “I have tea, but it’s not the same. I always have a cup of coffee in the morning, and it just feels wrong. Would you mind, terribly?”

      He couldn’t believe she was asking so nicely, like she felt bad about inconveniencing him. No one had cared before. It’s why he didn’t blink when she started demanding stuff from him, but this was different. And he liked it. Snape knew then that he was going to do whatever he had to be part of her life. His girl in the woods.

Chapter Text

Hermione bit her lip as she looked over the book again. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She slammed it shut and looked at the tent opening willing it to open. Snape had kept her company over the weekend, but now he had classes. NEWTs were drawing close, and his schedule was intense. He was almost as obsessive as she was, pushing his class schedule to the limit and demanding of himself only the best.

      It had been three days since the weekend.

      He had come, of course, to bring her food, but besides that he was only able to stay a short time before running back to the castle. His awkwardness with her was easing, at least. Snape was still uncomfortable if she got too close or accidentally touched him, but his manner was easing. Hermione had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his company, far more than she had Harry or Ron. She loved her boys, but Snape was someone she could actually talk to. She’d never realized how much she wanted that.

      The young Professor Snape was easy to be around and it was hard to reconcile the bullied child Harry had described to her. Perhaps, it was because she had only seen him in their little secret area. Hermione had been fighting the urge to leave her shields for days, ever since Snape had told her that her fake name was in the records. She couldn’t explain it, but it made the urge to explore all that much more. The thought that she wanted to see Snape in his school setting became an obsession, especially once the books he brought her had yielded no answers.

      Hermione gave in. Albeit she was a massive bookworm and could proclaim from the astronomy tower that she loved rules, the girl did have a penchant for mischievous behavior. She blamed Harry and Ron. It wasn’t her fault that they had been dragging her into their scrupulous adventures since the troll in first year. It, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she was quite good at it and found something quite exhilarating in using her intelligence to get away with all sorts of dangerous and hinky things. Or the fact that Hermione was, for lack of better words, easily bored with the mundane and enjoyed challenges that pushed the limits and tested her abilities. No, it had nothing to do with that at all.

      To quote Professor Slughorn, it was all purely scientific. Hermione wanted to understand the boy she was trying to trust and to do so, she needed to see him outside of their circle. So, she stepped out of the boundaries of her area and breathed in the fresh air of the Forbidden Forest. Deciding to go the long way around, she wove through the edges of the woods until she came to the Black Lake then climbed up to Hagrid’s, making a wide berth around his hut (she could hear him inside) and toward the front doors. Quickly, she cast a disillusionment spell and stepped into the castle.

      She knew the moment she had stepped inside, she was mad. Inwardly, she was muttering all sorts of nasty things at herself for being so positively silly and risking everything, but Hermione didn’t stop. Students were milling around, heading to their afternoon classes. Several bumped into her, looking around confused since it seemed they had walked into nothing. Hermione guffawed as one boy, after bumping into her, reached out and tried to grab at her. She had already moved so he ran headlong into the wall, much to the amusement of the students around him.

      Hermione knew from talking to Snape that he had double Potions so she made her way to Slughorn’s classroom. It took her some time to get there, students and eventually teachers, the occasional ghost, causing her to dip into the alcoves or behind paintings. Disillusioned or not, she didn’t want to risk a well-placed swing or keen teacher realizing what was going on. Finally, though, she reached the classroom. Slughorn’s voice was wafting from the partially closed door.

      Silently, she slipped in. Hermione kept herself to the back wall and watched. Snape was near the front, his long black hair obscuring his face as he carefully worked on the potion in front of him. Hermione could see the others too: the Marauders. It pained her to see them as much as it angered her. They were all dead in her future. James, Lily, Sirius, Lupin and even the rat, Peter. At the same time, though, it frustrated her to no end that the very people Harry looked up to were such wretched teenagers.

      And they were. Wretched.

      She watched as Sirius, with his long wavy hair, chuckled as he threw lizard tails at Snape’s head. James tried to beat him out by throwing Eye of Newt. When Lily caught them, she just shrugged and rolled her eyes but did nothing to stop them. Snape, though, must have had the patience of a god, because he didn’t even react or look up. He just endured it. Hermione supposed after seven years of it, and no one ever helping, that Snape had just resigned himself to it.

      Hermione, on the other hand, was not as forgiving. She quietly pulled out her wand and aimed it at Sirius and James’ cauldrons. They begun boiling over to the point that their contents were now shooting all the way to the ceiling. The boys ducked down as one exploded. Slughorn stepped in, cleaning the mess quickly.

      “What happened, Mister Potter, Mister Black?” Slughorn raised an eyebrow at the melted remnants of their cauldrons.

      James cleared his throat and pulled his fingers through his wild black hair. “I guess the flame got too hot.”

      Snape snickered at that before turning back to his own perfectly brewed potion. He missed the dirty looks that Sirus and James were giving him, but Hermione didn’t. They were going to blame Snape and it was her fault.

      “Never mind, never mind,” the hefty professor said. “Clean it up. Class is almost over. Everyone else, please turn in your phials to my desk before you leave. Tut, tut, now.”

      The class bustled to get out and Hermione waited until Snape passed before leaving as well. She was a few steps behind him when something shoved past her. Sirius. And James was close behind. Sirius turned toward her for a moment, confused, but shook it off, reaching out to grab Snape. He and James shoved him inside an alcove. Hermione saw Remus and Peter standing awkwardly apart from them. Look-outs.

      “You think that was funny, Snivellus?” Sirius had him by his robes until their noses were almost touching.

      “I didn’t do that,” Snape retorted. “You’re the morons who didn’t set your flames right.”

      “We set it perfectly,” James said. “You decided to have a little fun at our expense, didn’t you, you greasy git?”

      “And throwing things at my head that was what, quidditch practice?” Snape struggled to break free. There just wasn’t enough room in the tiny alcove.

      James smirked. “You mean that was you? We thought it was the trash. Smelled like it.”

      Sirius laughed. “Good one, James.”

      Hermione rolled her eyes. She couldn’t do anything. They’d blame it on Snape if she did, so instead she lit a small fire under Peter. The boy squealed, jumping, trying to get it out. Remus called for his friends and they ran out of the alcove. Sirius shoving Snape into the wall before he did. Luckily, Snape didn’t hesitate. He ran down the hall and out of sight. Once the fire was out, the boys decided to take Peter to the hospital wing. Once she was sure they couldn’t blame it on Snape, she started to hex them. Sirius’s face broke out in pustules, James began growing hair all over his body and Remus’s feet grew several sizes larger until they looked like clown feet.

      By the time, they reached the hospital wing, Madame Pomphrey had no idea who needed the help. They were all practically in tears. The benefit of having future knowledge, she knew exactly how to hurt them.

      Hermione watched for a few minutes before leaving. She was just about to the front doors when she saw McGonagall; she stood at the doors, her eyes scanning over the area, her wand out as she tested for magic. The little hairs rose on the back of Hermione’s neck. She knew she was caught. Ducking behind a portrait she tried to control her breathing. It was nothing for it. She had to risk it. Hermione removed the disillusionment spell.

      As steady as she could, the girl stepped out. Breathing as calmly as she could she walked toward the doors where the stern-faced woman was standing, her arms crossed, and a long eyebrow raised.

      “And what do we have here? I don’t think I recognize you, Miss…”

      “Jean Ranger, Professor. I went to school here for six years.” It wasn’t technically a lie. According to school records, she had.

      McGonagall blinked and then shook her head as if confunded. “Miss Ranger? Oh, yes, Miss Ranger. How silly of me, of course. How good to see you again.” A smile broke out on the woman’s face.

      Hermione’s jaw dropped. What in Helga Hufflepuff’s soggy oats? That wasn’t supposed to work. That was definitely not supposed to work. Confused, she took the professor’s hand and shook it.

      “What are you doing here, Miss Ranger?”

      “I—I was… I wanted to see if I could sit to take my Newts.” Hermione breathed out. “I went to your office, but you weren’t there.”

      “No, I was patrolling. Someone reported a misuse of magic in the halls a couple hours ago and I was attempting to trace the magic.”

      Hermione smiled weakly. “Well, you know how we kids get this close to the end of the year. Probably someone having a spot of fun to relieve some stress.”

      “You’re probably right. Now, in regard to taking your Newts. Let me discuss it with the headmaster, but I don’t see why not. You were my brightest student.”

      “That would be great,” Hermione said, trying to keep the dread out of her voice. That was the last she wanted – contact with Dumbledore. But to take it back now would seem even more suspicious. “Just send me an owl.” So, it can flutter barely a quarter mile away from the school.

      Hermione all but ran from the castle, not noticing a boy with long black hair watching her in absolute shock as she went.

Chapter Text

“Hermione?”

      Snape slowed from his run across the grassy length as he neared his secret area. She was knelt just inside her wards, cradling her knees. He knelt down. Her breathing was sharp and quick, tears running down her face as she looked at the ground. A panic attack. He had them for years when he was a boy. Every time his father, Tobias Snape came home drunk or came home at all. His mother would lock him in his room as the noises banged and clattered, screaming and yelling echoing from downstairs.

      “It’s okay. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.”

      Ignoring his own qualms, he gently rubbed her back. For a moment, she stayed that way. Then Hermione turned and grappled him. Her arms wrapping around his waist, knocking him into a sitting position. Snape breathed out, swallowing hard as he let his arms fall around her. He continued to gently rub her back as she cried into his robes. He had to admit, crying or not, it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world, in fact he quite liked it.

      Finally, after an interminable amount of time, she pulled back, wiping her face. “I’m sorry.”

      “What happened? What on earth were you doing at the school?”

      Hermione fiddled with the dirt. “I missed you.”

      Snape blinked. “Wait, what?”

      She looked down and blushed. “I’m here all by myself. You’re the only person here who knows me and I’m losing my mind.” Hermione stood and began pacing. “I feel like I’m starting to panic. No, I know I am. I’m panicking. I was brought here, but I don’t know why. I’m terrified that I’m going to make the wrong move or do the wrong thing and I was given no information. None! And I can’t find anything out. Everything is just information I already know which makes it utterly useless. I mean, really, what was he thinking? Am I meant to just stay in these woods forever? To watch life go by while I hide like a hermit?”

      “Hermione,” Snape said, hesitantly, standing. “Then why don’t you tell me? I know we only just met, but you can trust me. I can help.”

      She bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I should. What if I make everything worse?” Her worst fear was doing something that ruined Voldemort’s end.

      “Is it really that bad?” Snape had been wondering if she was on the run or some sort of enemy of Voldemort.

      Her brown eyes gazed at him, tearing up. “It could be. And even if I told, I don’t know that you would believe me. Then you might leave me too.”

      Snape flushed. First, she tells him that she misses him. Him! Of all people. No one had ever missed him before. He was sure that most would be happy if he just disappeared entirely. Now, she was admitting to being scared that he would leave her. Snape couldn’t deny though that he understood her fear. He held the same one. It hadn’t even been a week, but it was still the best week of his life. He’d never been happier, freer. For the first time, he felt excited to wake up, because he would get a chance to see her.

      Snape breathed out and let his thoughts order themselves. His occlumency skills were not great, but they were getting better. “Hermione, I want you to tell me. I can help you. I promise… I promise I won’t leave you.”

      Hermione’s fists clenched and her expression was so defeated that Snape almost rushed over to her, but he held his ground. “I need to think about it,” she told him. “If I tell you… It’ll change everything and you need to be prepared for that. Your life will change and you may hate me for it.”

      He fiddled with his robes. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was talking about, but he could tell she was being truthful. His burgeoning legilimency skills could tell that much. “Alright, Hermione.” He looked at the setting sun. “It’s time for dinner. Can we meet tomorrow morning? I have a free period. You can explain everything to me, including what happened today.”

      She nodded, sadly. “Goodnight, Snape.”

      “Call me Severus, please. I feel like your teacher when you call me Snape.”

      Hermione guffawed at that.

      “What?”

      “It’s nothing. If we do this, if we decide to be truthful, I’ll explain.”

      He raised an eyebrow at her and frowned, which only made her chuckle harder. “You’re a strange one.”

      “I’ll take that as a compliment. Good night… Severus.”

      Both of them tossed and turned all night.

      Hermione felt like the world had been placed on her shoulders. Her initial feeling of contentment that she had felt at being there was beginning to fade, and the panic truly was setting in. The simple fact was that she was terrified of doing something screw up the timeline. At the same time, her foreknowledge felt like a weight on her soul, and it was taking everything she had not to charge into Dumbledore’s office and make him stop it. To tell him everything about horcruxes and Lily and James Potter’s tragic deaths. If she was meant to go back then why hadn’t Dumbledore’s letter told her anything? Why was she left to guess and wonder? Why couldn’t she, of all people, discover the meaning behind the phoenix and the time-turner.

      Snape’s offer was tempting. Too tempting. True, she didn’t know him, this version of him, but she did know the man he would grow up to be. A part of her wanted to be like the old Hermione. The Hermione who thought everything so carefully, but in truth she was tired. When she on the run with her boys, it felt like it was always her that kept things in place. Even at this age, Snape was smart with a keen, logical mind. If she trusted in him, for once, maybe she wouldn’t be alone. Maybe, for once, she would have someone to lean on.

      A quarter mile away inside the castle, Snape was on his bed. His arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. A part of him was fully ready to hear whatever she had to say; at this point, he was sure he would do anything to keep her in his life, no matter who she was or where she came from. His more logical side couldn’t forget her words. Was he ready to change his life? In July, he was supposed to take the dark mark. His choice was already laid out before him whether he wanted it or not; the consequences of going back now would be dire. The Death Eaters would kill him.

      Yet, there was something in his heart that told him that he couldn’t miss this chance with Hermione. Every fiber of his being told him that if he didn’t, his life would be over as he knew it; if he had ever really lived in the first place. Hermione had changed something in him five days ago. He had never felt more alive, more invigorated. Everything he had ever wished for seemed to point to her. A friend. A confidant. Someone to care about, who cared about him. Snape didn’t believe in fate, but he couldn’t deny that it seemed destiny had dropped her in his lap. A question lay at the forefront of his mind. Could he go back to how life was before her?

      No was the resounding answer inside his mind. And he didn’t want to.

      Hermione and Severus met outside her tent. A deep fog had permeated over the grounds casting an ethereal glow as the morning sun broke through dense clouds. They looked at one another in silence, the other trying to gage their consequent decisions.

      Hermione breathed out. “So… what is your decision?”

      “I want to know yours first,” he said back.

      She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

      He nodded, stiffly. If she refused him, he wanted to have some semblance of pride to back up on. Snape did not enjoy vulnerability, and this moment felt stripped bare.

      Hermione crossed her arms. “I’m going to trust you, Severus Snape.”

      A breath he didn’t know he was holding, released. Snape closed his eyes before looking at her. He felt worlds lighter, so he smirked when he said, “And I’m going to let you.”

      She scowled, before shaking her head. “Why do you do that?”

      “I’m not doing anything.”

      “You are. You’re being snarky and pompous on purpose.”

      Snape shrugged. “It’s my personality.”

      “It’s a defense mechanism,” she retorted. “And an obnoxious one. If we are going to work together, if you even believe me, then do you think you can manage to lower your sarcasm a bit?”

      “Can you lower your swot-level?”

      Hermione groaned. “You are impossible.”

      “I’m me. I’m not going to change for you or anyone else.” It wasn’t true. Honestly, he would have done anything to stay by her side, but the fact that she had decided to trust him had bolstered his confidence. He needed to make sure that she didn’t think he was a push-over.

      Hermione studied him for a second, then she nodded. “You’re right. But I think calling me a swot is a bit unfair, considering you’re one too.”

      Snape chuckled. “I’m no swot. I just know my intelligence is better than anyone else’s whether they want to accept it or not.”

      “Arrogant swot then.” She bit her lip, her emotions shifting. “So, are you ready then?”

      “As ready as I can be, considering I have no idea what to expect.”

      Hermione breathed out slowly. “You’re not going to initially believe me and thanks to how I came here and the changes it made, I can’t prove it to you. Not well anyway.”

      Snape shifted uneasily. “Just get it over with, Granger.”

      The use of her last name surprised her, but she nodded in determination.

      “I am from the future.”

Chapter Text

“Prove it.”

      Hermione sighed. Snape’s arms were crossed, and he was looking at her in a way that remined her of his future self when he handed out a particularly hard assignment. She was expecting it, so she just shrugged and took a breath in.

      “Your name is Severus Snape. You live at Spinner’s End in Cokeworth. You were born January 9^th, 1960 to Eileen and Tobias.”

      He rolled his eyes. “You could have looked up that information. Mark me unimpressed.”

      “I wasn’t done. Now, shush. Your mother is a Prince, a wizarding family, and your father is a muggle and a drunk who won’t let your mother use magic. You were best friends with Lily Evans until last year when you called her a mudblood. She wouldn’t forgive you, which in my opinion wasn’t fair. You’ve been bullied by the marauders since first year on the train, Lupin is a werewolf and he almost killed you thanks to a prank by Sirius. Oh, and this summer you’ll be taking the Dark Mark.”

      Snape gaped at her. Instinctively he reached for his unblemished arm. “How? I mean, how?”

      She shrugged. “Because I know you. Or future you, that is. You were my potions teacher.”

      “Wait, I teach potions? At Hogwarts?” He turned and frowned at the castle. He would come back after trying so hard to get away from that godforsaken place? Snape frowned. “How do you know about the dark mark, but I guess more importantly why do you seem like you don’t care? The Dark Lord hates muggleborns.”

      “Because not long after you become a spy and work for the Order of the Phoenix under Dumbledore.”

      Snape grimaced. “Why would I do that?” He didn’t hate the old man, but he certainly wasn’t fond of him. It was hard to imagine ever coming to him. Especially to do something as insane as be a spy.

      Hermione chewed on the bottom of her lip. “You made a mistake, and it threatened the life of someone you care about.”

      “Someone I care about? I don’t have anyone I care… Lily? My mistake hurt Lily.”

      “Yes and no,” she said, steeling herself for what she had to tell him. “Your mistake led her and James to be killed by Voldemort leaving their one-year-old son an orphan, but it’s far more complicated than that.

      Snape turned his eyes away. It was impossible. “This is… I don’t know if I believe you.” He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. His Lily. His best friend, at least once upon a time.

      Hermione laid a hand on his arm, her eyes bright. “I want you to perform legilimency on me. I’ll show you some of my memories.”

      “How do you know---” He stopped when he saw the bemused expression on her face. “I guess I should have expected that. I’m not great at it yet.”

      “Well, practice makes perfect.”

      Snape took a long deep breath and pulled his wand from his robe. “Are you ready? Legilimens.”

      The first memory she showed him was her reading about the famous Harry Potter in one of the many books she had bought after her first trip to Diagon Alley at twelve. Then she was meeting the boy in question on the Hogwarts Express. Snape felt shock riddling his body as he saw himself years in the future belittling the boy. At least, he had grown into his nose. She showed him bits and pieces of the next seven years, of her experiences with him, of their battle against Voldemort and the terror the maniac instilled in the world. Hermione forced him away from the details closer to her own age and he relented, breaking the spell.

      Snape took a few steps backwards, a headache forming in his mind. There was no denying it. He got Lily killed. The boy leaned against the make-shift desk, breathing hard. He felt like he had aged years.

      “Snape,” Hermione said softly. “I don’t believe it was your fault.”

      He looked at her with wearied eyes. “I saw your memories, Hermione. If I hadn’t told the Dark Lord about the prophecy, she would still be alive.”

      “Do you really think it’s that cut and dry? You had no idea what you had overheard or who it involved. When you do, you did the right thing and Dumbledore manipulates you. He then fails to protect Lily and James as do others. You did everything you could to protect them. It was the Order that failed them. Dumbledore, Sirius and I’m sure many others.”

      “Why do you care so much? I saw how I treated you in your memories.”

      Hermione felt her stomach twist. This was the moment she was most unsure of, the moment she had tossed and turned about all night, wondering if she should tell him.

      He watched her face as she debated her words. A rock sunk into his stomach. “I’m dead, aren’t I? In your future.”

      She turned away from him. She couldn’t say it. Not after having met him at this age. Her whole body tingled. Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps she had lost her mind.

      “I don’t know,” Hermione said quietly. “At the Final Battle, Voldemort has Nagini attack you. Harry, Ron and I go to you, and you give Harry some memories to explain the truth, then we leave. We believe you’re dead, but we never saw you after that. Your body was never brought out.” It was the truth, albeit a twisted one. “You’re given a grave, a monument to your life, but I never saw your body.”

      Silence fell over them and the wind whipped through the thick trees. For a while, neither said anything.

      Hermione turned toward Snape when he placed a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it.

      “Then maybe I survive,” he said quietly. He said it more for her; he could see how it was bothering her, and he didn’t want her to shed any more tears over him. He didn’t deserve it. “I know how I’m going to be attacked. I can use countermeasures.”

      She nodded lightly, sniffling.

      “You know, you still haven’t told me why you care so much.”

      Hermione’s head fell. “After the war, everyone wanted to move on. They wanted to just march onto their lives, and I couldn’t do that. I tried. I would take walks and one day I came upon your grave. I knew so much about your life, and I guess I felt connected to you. You… your older self, gave everything to the war. You didn’t even get to have a life because you were forced between two masters, one who was crazy and one who manipulated your guilt. I just… felt like you were the only who understood the emptiness that I was feeling.”

      Snape couldn’t believe it. This beautiful girl was broken, like him. He knew exactly what she meant, and he wasn’t even this Professor Snape yet. “Even though I called you an insufferable know-it-all?”

      She chuckled and wiped her tear ridden face. “It’s not like you were wrong.”

      “Well, it would take one to know one,” he said with a grin.

      “So, do you believe me? Do you still…. Do you still want to help me after learning all this?”

      Snape smirked. “If anything, I want to help more.”

      Relief etched onto her face and tears began to well up again.

      “Why are you crying again?” He stepped back unsure of how to make her stop.

      “I’m just so relieved. Honestly, I have been so afraid of doing this alone.”

      “Your friends, Harry and Ron, normally help?” Snape couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the clear friendship they had.

      Hermione laughed. “Yes and no. I was the brains of the operation in a comedy of errors.”

      “And what role did they play?”

      “Harry was the warrior, the brave one. Ron was… well, he was the comedic relief if I have to be completely honest.”

      Snape shifted his feet and felt his cheeks heat. “Were you with either of them… as more than friends?”

      Hermione turned thoughtful. “Most of the wizarding world thought Harry and I should have been together, but it never clicked between us. He was more like a brother to me. Ron – I had a bit of a crush on after fifth year and…” She blushed. “…We even kissed at the Battle, but things were far too crazy. I think, if I had stayed, we probably would have gotten together out of convenience, really. Like I said, so many people after the war just wanted to move on and forget. Ron was one of them. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. We just didn’t fit. And if I’m honest, Ron didn’t really support who I was; when we were growing up, he could be downright cruel to me.”

      “Good,” Snape muttered. “He sounds like a git.”

      Her lips twisted into a grin. “Yeah, sometimes, he could be.”

      “And what would the great Hermione Granger want in a man anyway?” He tried to sound lighthearted about it, but in reality, his heart was pounding against his chest.

      Hermione gently pulled her lower lip in as she thought about it. “Someone who was my equal, who I could trust and love without worrying about them hurting me. Someone I could talk to and spend quiet evenings with over a couple books.”

      Snape’s face broke into a smile. He could be that man. In fact, even if it took him years, he would be. It didn’t matter that logic denied the possibility of falling in love with someone after five days, Snape wanted Hermione. And he would do everything he could to be that man for her, that Ron boy be damned.

      “Well, what now?” He tried to contain the feeling inside his chest, but it was hard. Happiness was addictive and Snape wanted more.

      “Now, we find out how and why I’m here.”

      Snape smirked. “I bet I find it first.” He scrolled casually toward the tent, his hands in his pockets, feeling like he was walking on air.

      “This is not a competition,” she huffed, running to catch up.

      He turned and gently tapped her nose. “It is. The competition of the biggest swots.”

      Hermione’s eyes widened and her cheeks flared with heat. Where on earth had this new confidence come from? And why was it affecting her so much?

Chapter Text

The next month passed in a haze. Severus and Hermione worked hard trying to discover the meaning behind her time-travel. Despite his heavy studies, he now spent every moment he could with her, spending every second he had available, and many he didn’t, to be around her. That was how the owl found them, studying outside at his desk. Snape working on his upcoming NEWTs and Hermione pooling over another book on time travel.

      It squawked at them, irritated.

      “Shut up, bird,” Snape said, annoyed as he took the letter from its leg.

      Hermione gently patted the bird. “He didn’t mean it. He’s just a mean, grumpy guy.”

      Snape rolled his eyes as the owl flew away. “I will not use my already limited allotment of manners on a fat pigeon.” He frowned as he turned the letter over in his hands. “Hermione, it’s for you or, rather, the other you, Jean Ranger.”

      The air around them seemed to turn heavy as she took it from him. Hermione opened it and read over the contents. “It’s from Professor McGonagall.”

      “What does she want?”

      “It’s about taking my NEWTs.” She quickly explained to him what happened when she had sneaked inside Hogwarts and her interaction with the witch. “She says I can take it with the rest of you in June.”

      Snape’s brow furrowed. “So, it worked. What you said… it worked. She, somehow recognized you as Jean Ranger which means so did the Headmaster.”

      “It seems so or it’s a rather convoluted way of tricking me to come back to Hogwarts. Do you think it’s important?” They had spent an interminable amount of time discussing how the time-turner and phoenix had brought her back, but with little headway.

      “I’ve been thinking about it. The phoenix is the embodiment of rebirth and healing. I think the combination of it and the time-turner literally created an alternate you, a way for you to start your life again – which is what you wanted, but it’s like your new self is still forming.”

      Hermione closed the book in front of her. “Like a story that’s still being written.”

      “Exactly. The phoenix wrote the beginning, but it’s giving you the chance to fill in the blanks.”

      “But that’s just theory.  What if we’re wrong?”

      Snape smirked. “Then we need to test it. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend. Do you fancy coming out with me?”

      Hermione swallowed. She hadn’t been outside the campground since her ill-advised trip into Hogwarts.

      Snape noticed her doubt and reached forward, gently touching her hand. “Hermione, you can’t hide in the Forbidden Forest forever. You’ve already read everything you possibly can, and it’s gotten you nowhere. It’s time to test our theories. Don’t you want answers?”

      “Of course I do. I’m just not looking forward to a one-way trip to Azkaban or, worse, catching the eye of Death Eaters.”

      “I’ll protect you,” Snape said, confidently.

      Hermione raised an eyebrow. “And when the Marauders harass you?”

      He scowled, standing up hard. “You can’t throw that in my face every time. You don’t understand.” Snape moved to leave, but Hermione jumped up and grabbed his hand.

      “I’m sorry, Severus. You’re right. I shouldn’t have brought it up; I’m just scared.”

      His shoulders dropped and he turned to her. “Hermione, you asked for my help. You have to trust me.”

      “I do. I just don’t trust anyone else.”

      Snape looked at her for a long moment, before breathing out. “We have to do this. Otherwise, we’ll never have any answers.”

      “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

      Seeing Hogsmeade again filled Hermione with nostalgia. The familiar slanted roofs, the businesses, all of which seemed transfixed in time. It was almost exactly the same in the eighties as it would be over ten years from now. Students milled through the streets. She was supposed to meet Severus at the Hog’s Head, but she felt rooted in fear. It felt so exposed to walk the streets after so long of hiding.

      Getting her breathing under control, she stepped out into the main street only to run headlong into a wizard. She stumbled backwards, landing on her bottom, and stared at the bottom of fine-silked, blue robes.

      “Excuse you,” a familiar voice drawled.

      Hermione’s blood went cold as she turned her head up at none other than Lucius Malfoy. If it was possible for the already cold, polished man to look even more handsome than this was it. Lucius of this time was almost ethereal in his expression, his face still slightly rounded in youth, making him seem like an ageless vampire.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said, standing. “It was my fault.”

      “Obviously,” he drawled, his face sour.

      Hermione almost rolled her eyes. It was like Draco 2.0. “Of course. I’ll make sure to watch where I’m going next time.”

      “See that you do. I am not the sort of person you want to cross, Miss...?”

      “Ranger. Jean Ranger.”

      Lucius tilted his head for a moment. His eyes glazing over. Hermione jumped on the chance to test their theory.

      “I went to school at Hogwarts. I’m in the same year as Severus Snape. Do you remember him?”

      The man blinked a few times, as if trying to clear his head. “Of course I know you. You were in…” He frowned.

      “Ravenclaw,” she suggested. She didn’t think saying she was a Gryffindor would win her any favors from the man.

      “Yes, Ravenclaw. I knew that,” Lucius said grumpily, clearly frustrated. “You are friends with Severus then?”

      As if called by his name, Snape appeared by her side, looking frantic. “Lucius, good morning.”

      “Severus. I was just speaking with one of your classmates, Miss Ranger, after she quite rudely knocked into me.”

      Hermione resisted the urge to punch him in the face like she had his son.

      Severus stared at her. She didn’t even have to know what he wanted to say, she was thinking the same thing: how did she find herself in these messes? “Yes, I am familiar with her.”

      Lucius gently patted down his white hair. “Are you two friends?"

      Snape looked frozen.

      “No,” Hermione interjected. “We’re partners in potions.”

      Lucius raised a long thin eyebrow as if he didn’t quite believe that. “You seem awfully comfortable with my friend for just a lab partner.”

      Hermione sighed. No time like the present to test Snape’s theory. “I am just a student at Hogwarts who remembered that you two had been chummy at school and wanted to alleviate your anger at me for knocking into you if you thought I knew someone you did. It was foolish really. Completely didn’t work and you consider me a minor inconvenience. I’m nobody to you, Lucius, in fact, I am so unremarkable that you’ll barely remember you even saw me.”

      The Death Eater froze for several seconds, and Hermione held her breath, she could feel Snape next to her just as tense. Then Lucius suddenly smiled vaguely. “Good to see you, Severus. I’ll be owling you soon about the event that we discussed. Afternoon, Miss Ranier.”

      “Ranger,” Hermione said, automatically. Snape elbowed her.

      Lucius just waved her off and wandered away into the crowd.

      Hermione put her face in her hands. “Godric’s sword, that was terrifying.”

      “What were you thinking?" Snape snapped, yanking her back into the alley.

      She scowled. “I didn’t mean to. It was just like he said, I ran into him. Literally.”

      Snape sighed. “When I saw you with him… I thought the worst. When I said test my theory, I didn’t mean on someone like him.”

      “At least we know it’s true. Kind of. Except, he didn’t believe that we were lab partners.”

      He frowned. “What did you tell him? Everything.”

      After she relayed the information, he leaned against one of the walls. His brow furrowing. A smile played across his lips after a few moments. “It’s because you told him you were a Ravenclaw.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “Ravenclaws don’t share potions with Slytherins, Gryffindors do. Lucius would have known that.”

      Hermione tapped her finger to her lips. “So, I can’t just tell them anything about my apparent alter ego. There are rules.”

      “I have another theory, but I want to test it out some more.”

      “Are you going to share with the class?”

      Snape smirked. “No. I want to see if you get it too.”

      Hermione rolled her eyes. “Tease.”

      “Clutz.”

      They walked out together into Hogsmeade.

      It was a fairly easy day, surprisingly. Hermione bought some food for the tent and told the cashier that she was the editor of the Daily Prophet which the woman behind the counter did not believe. The next store Hermione told the man behind the desk that she was from France which he did with the same confunded look as Lucius and McGonagall had. Store to store, even student to passerby Snape and Hermione tested their theory out. Her identity grew. Their biggest revelation came at the hands of none other than the Marauders.

      Hermione and Severus had just sat down in the Three Broomsticks with butterbeers when Sirius, James, Lupin and Peter appeared. James sat down next to Severus and Sirius next to Hermione; the other two stood. Remus looking as if he had just eaten something bad and wanted to be anywhere else but here.

      “What do you have here, James?” Sirius said, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. She tried to shake him off but he gripped her shoulder. “Looks like Snivellus has a date. How much you pay her, mate?”

      Snape began to open his mouth angrily when Hermione dumped her butterbeer over Sirius’ head.

      “Get your hands off me now or I’ll report you to Dumbledore,” she said coolly.

      He blinked at her in shock and moved off the seat, shaking his hair out. “I was only joking.”

      Hermione pushed off the booth and shoved him backwards. “No big deal? I remember you, Sirius Black. Six years I’ve watched you thugs bully and harass students.”

      James stood at that. “We’re not thugs. And six years? What’s your name?”

      “Jean Ranger,” she spat.

      The Marauders blinked for a second as their memories of her were replaced. Lupin was the one who spoke, “Ranger from Ravenclaw, you were originally from France, but came here to study at Hogwarts. You had to take a break from school due to illness.” He shook his head. Clearly confused as to why he hadn’t recognized her to begin with.

      Hermione spun to James. “And yes, thugs, James Potter. How dare you call yourself Gryffindors. Brave? You are nothing but cowards, preying on the weak and lonely.”

      James looked ashen.

      “I mean, if you’re talking about that greasy git, he deserves it, Jean,” Sirius muttered.

      Hermione punched him. She felt his nose crack as he bowled over.

      “What the hell,” he moaned.

      “You deserved it. That’s how your logic works, right? You can do whatever you want to someone if you think they deserve it? Funny. Sounds a lot like the logic of a certain Dark Lord, doesn’t it.” Silence had now fallen over the Three Broomsticks as students watched in abject horror over the altercation. Hermione snapped her head at Remus who looked thoroughly abashed. “If you don’t like they are doing, Remus, then stop them; otherwise, you are just as guilty as they are. And is that what you want to be remembered as? And you, James, you’re about to get married, aren’t you?” The young man’s eyes widened. “You’ll have kids one day. What are you going to tell them about your behavior? Are you going to be happy when they replicate your behavior and hurt others or, even better, what do you tell them when they are on the receiving end and learn you were the bully?”

      Breathing out, Hermione flung her hair back and turned to Severus who was staring at her open-mouthed. “We’re leaving. Now.”

      He obeyed, sliding off the seat and pushing past James.

      When they stepped out of the Three Broomsticks, Hermione grabbed Severus’s hand. “I’m sorry. I know you’re probably mad at me for intervening.”

      “You know, anyone else, and I probably would have been,” he said, breathing out. He looked at her quizzically. “Honestly, I was just so damn relieved your anger wasn’t directed at me to be offended. That was downright terrifying. You…” He started chuckling, pulling his fingers through his long black hair. “You compared them to the Dark Lord! And you broke Sirius’s nose. I don’t think I have ever been so shocked in my entire life.”

      “So, you’re not mad.” A shy smile flickering across her lips.

      “Hermione, that was brilliant.” Before he could stop himself, Snape cradled her face and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

      Time froze for a second as they both realized what had just happened. Snape stumbled backward, Hermione’s face went bright red.

      “I didn’t mean—” Snape said. “I was just excited about what had just happened.”

      Hermione shook her head, fiddling with her bag. “No, of course. Yeah. Carpe diem.” She frowned at her choice of words, wishing she could turn into a puddle. “I mean, it’s fine. No worries. So… back to the tent, yeah?”

      “Yeah,” Severus agreed. “Back to the tent. Less people for you to antagonize there.” They began walking up the street.

      Hermione lightly shoved him. “Besides you.”

      “I don’t mind it. Although, I think I should find a boggart.”

      “Oh?”

      “Yeah, I think my biggest fear just changed.”

Chapter Text

Snape dropped the book on the table. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

      “And your need for dramatics?”

      “I know how your time-travelling works. At least, for the most part.” He sat down and shoved his long black hair out of his face before opening the book. “In everything that I have read about time-travel it always says the same thing: you can’t (or at least shouldn’t) mess with the timeline.”

      “Of course,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

      “Yet there has been one phrase that kept sticking out to me. In at least three of these books the phrase ‘known events’, ‘marked moments’, and ‘set points in time’ is used over and over. These ‘known events’ are like pieces of destiny wrapped up in your timeline. My hearing the prophecy leading to…” His face scrunched up. “…to Lily’s death, making Harry a horcrux and so on and so forth. They’re ‘known’ moments in time which means they must happen.

      “So, what if there was a spell on the time-turner itself? You said you couldn’t see it well, right?”

      She nodded. It had been hidden inside the plumage of Fawkes.

      Snape began pacing. “If whoever sent you the time-turner engraved the spell on the device they could have made it a part of the process. The spell prevents you from doing or saying anything that would affect the known time-line.”

      “But I’ve never seen such a thing before.”

      His lips twitched. “Then it is either a very ancient magic or a new one that hasn’t been created yet. But it makes sense. The spell would be inlaid with the power of the time-turner and the magic of the phoenix, both of which were from your time meaning it would have the foreknowledge to know how each event, no matter how small, could affect things.”

      “That’s both incredibly frustrating and a relief.”

      “No spell is infallible. Take today, for instance, your experience with Lucius. You almost drew his attention in a way that would not have been good. You are as much a part of the process as the other items; meaning whoever sent you it trusted you not to put your foot in it.”

      Hermione flushed. “Then whoever ‘they’ are should have warned me. How could they possibly have expected me to figure it out?”

      Severus sat down. “Maybe they knew you. Knew you already came back and knew you would.”

      Hermione groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Curse whoever ‘they’ are. And one thing is bugging me. Why aren’t you affected? I’ve told you plenty of things and you never believe any of it. Everyone else has their memories replaced even if I told it to someone else.”

      “I don’t know. Special, perhaps?” Severus smirked at her.

      “Cocky, maybe?”

      “Maybe your mysterious benefactors knew you wouldn’t figure it out without my superior intellect?”

      She scoffed. “With an ego that big I’m surprised you could fit through the door.”

      “In any case,” he said, a real smile flashing across his face. “We should go through the details of the future. The more we understand about what happens we can avoid situations of the known events.”

      “You just want to go through my mind again,” she teased. “I have a feeling you like how you grew up.”

      He shrugged in false innocence. “I have no idea what you mean, Hermione. Why would I care that I finally have a small semblance of power, respect and fear?”

      “So, you want to learn from your future self? Isn’t that a time paradox in the making?” Hermione leaned back, amused.

      “I consider it… research. I need to make sure I live up to the known timeline after all.”

      “Of course.” Rolling her eyes. “Alright, based on what we know, which, I suppose, is more than we knew, but still less than I would like, I need to stay in the Unknown. Meaning, I have two choices. One, to have any form of life at all, I’ll either have to move away to a different magical community.” Snape frowned at that. “Or I’ll have to live primarily in the muggle world.”

      “I don’t want you to leave,” he said, firmly.

      She bit her lip to keep from smiling and promptly ignored the flutter in her stomach. “Then I’ll have to stay to the muggle world for the most part.”

      “Will you be alright with that?”

      “I’m muggle-born, Severus. It’s as much a part of my life as the wizarding world. I won’t give up magic completely, but it would be better to utilize as much of a muggle existence as possible.”

      “What about money?”

      Hermione pursed her lips. “I can get a job. It would be easy enough to create a fake muggle education and, it’s not exactly ethical, but there are a few investments I can make.”

      Severus nodded slowly. “So, you will stay?”

      “Yes, Severus, I’ll stay.”

      The last couple months of the school year passed in a flurry. Between the both of them studying for their NEWTs and writing out the timeline their time was filled spent over books and parchment. When they finally took their NEWTs, Hermione opened her arms as they walked from the front doors.

      “Oh, what a relief.”

      Severus stood next to her. “I have to agree. Although, it does have a slightly different feeling for me. I always thought this would be the end for me; that I’d never walk through these damn doors again. It’s a little disheartening to know I’ll be coming back for the foreseeable future.”

      Hermione began to speak when a familiar voice spoke behind her, and she froze.

      “Miss Ranger, a word please.”

      She swallowed and nodded curtly at Severus who had gone pale and tried to stride away casually as Dumbledore walked up to her. Hermione turned and smiled at him. “Headmaster.”

      His arms were folded inside the purple star-studded robes he wore. “I wanted to speak with you before you left.”

      “Of course,” she tried to say lightly, but her voice quivered. “What can I help you with?”

      Dumbledore directed her toward a path around the castle, wanting her to walk with him. “As you know, Miss Ranger, there are dark things occurring in Britian. It has become dangerous for muggleborns in our community.”

      “So, I’ve heard.”

      “I wanted to know what your plans are now that you are graduated. You were a very intelligent student. Your skills could be very useful in the future.”

      You have no idea, Hermione thought, ruefully. They hadn’t tried to use her ability on someone as powerful as Dumbledore yet, but if the old man was trying to recruit her to the Order of the Phoenix, then she would need to. Breathing out, she carefully thought about her words.

      “Professor Dumbledore, I thank you for your offer, but I am not who you are looking for.” She could tell now when the time-turner spell was working, her words echoed inside her own mind. “In fact, I think after this conversation, you’ll realize that I would not be helpful at all for your cause, and you’ll soon forget all about me. When it comes to Jean H. G. Ranger, Albus Dumbledore, you will not bear another thought about who I am, what I am doing, and who I spend time with until the time is right.” She enunciated those last words, echoing Dumbledore’s own words from his letter in the future.

      The older wizard stopped, his face turning stony, and he swayed slightly. Hermione felt goosebumps raise on her skin as magic tingled in the air. It took almost five minutes this time, the longest it had taken anyone. Finally, though, he blinked.

      “Oh, you must forgive an old man, I must have dozed off,” he told her, beaming at her. “As I was saying, Miss Ranger, I hope that you will be careful out there. These are dangerous times. Now, put-put, it’s a beautiful day and I’m sure you want to celebrate with your friends and family.”

      “Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Enjoy your summer, as well.”

      “Oh, yes, yes.”

      Hermione crossed her arms and smirked as he walked away. “Manipulative old bastard, indeed.”

      When Hermione met back up with Snape in the tent, he ran up to her. “What did he want?”

      She relayed what happened and he breathed a sigh of relief. Hermione sunk down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “One problem dealt with. Now, though, is my next one.”

      “What do you mean?” He sat down across from her, his eyes worried.

      “You’ll be leaving soon. We’ve been so busy lately, I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to do next. I have no idea where to go and I’m almost out of money, galleons and pounds.”

      Severus looked at her a long while. This was the moment he had been waiting for. Unlike Hermione, he had been thinking about it, but he hadn’t been able to find the courage to talk to her about it. It was strange since he knew her so well now. Over the past months, he had been performing legilimens on her to the point he was confident he knew more about her than her ‘boys’ ever had. In those moments, Snape had only felt it was fair to share about his life. As she recovered from the intrusion into her mind, they would sit around the fire outside and he would talk to her about his childhood, his now-deceased parents, Lily. If he hadn’t been sure he loved her before, he knew now. Everything he felt about the woman in front of him had only increased, turning into something more than just bodily attraction. Severus Snape knew without a doubt in his mind that Hermione Jean Granger was his soulmate.

      Severus reached a shaking hand out to her, and she took it, even as she raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.

      “I want you to live with me at Spinner’s End.”

Chapter Text

       Snape breathed out as he looked at the hut in front of him. In two years, he had never been here, despite the hidden relationship he had with the burly man. It felt wrong and he almost turned around several times. Frowning, he cursed at his own weakness and walked up to the door, knocking hard on the wood of Hagrid’s home.

      The older, large man opened the door looming over Severus. “Master Snape, I was ‘oping you’d come.” He beamed at the young man.

      Walking inside, Severus noticed several strange creatures in the corners of the room and raised a curious eyebrow. “I felt it was time,” he told Hagrid.

      “Tea?”

      “Please.”

      Snape sat down at the large table and wiped a few of the crumbs from the surface. A mug the size of a small pitcher was placed in front of him and Hagrid poured a large amount of an aromatic herbal concoction. The younger man sniffed. “Very nice. Thistle and dandelions?”

      Hagrid smiled widely. “From me own garden. Now, Master Snape, what do I owe for this visit?”

      Snape frowned at the contents of his drink. He had never been good with expressing himself in this way. “I wanted to thank you… for your kindness toward me.”

      “O’ course. Please, don’ think anythin’ o’ it.”

      “But I shall,” Snape said, firmly. “Hagrid, you gave me something that I can say without a doubt saved me. My school years here were not… ideal. When you helped me, or really, just allowed me to be, it gave me a glimmer of hope. I felt as if the world was against me, and I was beginning to believe them. You proved me and them wrong.”

      Hagrid wiped his nose. “Well, if I’ma to be honest, I saw a bit of me in you, if ya’ don’ mind me sayin’. My school years were not good and on’ee one man offered me any kindness. I fig’red it was time to pass it on.”

      Snape relaxed and offered the man a genuine smile. “Indeed. I had best go, the Hogwarts Express leaves in an hour.” He stood and offered a hand to the man whose own hand engulfed Snape’s. “I hope that I will see you again soon.”

      Hagrid stood as well. “Say hello to your friend as well.”

      Snape froze. “What?”

      “The pretty lil’ thing you’ve been hiding in the woods.”

      “You knew?”

      Hagrid drew himself up and gave Snape a smirk. “O’ course. Dumbledore may know the castle, but I know the Forbidden Forest like no man ever will.”

      “And you never told anyone?” Snape couldn’t believe it. All this time, they had been so confident she was well-hidden.

      “Don’ ‘orry, Master Snape. I’ve been told by a friend that it ‘ould be ‘lright.”

      “A friend?”

      Hagrid patted Snape’s arm. “My friend, Firenze. He tol’ me all ‘bout it. E’s a centaur, he is. Knows things about the future. Told me ya’ and ya’ little friend ‘ave a ‘portant destiny to live.”

      “The centaurs,” Snape breathed. “Unbelievable. And they knew about her?”

      Hagrid scratched his head ruefully. “Prolly shouldn’t tell you this, but that be why they came in the firs’ place. Wan’ed to see her come. Tol’ me her arrival marked the beginning of the end, that… oh, how did Firenze say it…. ‘Two would walk the shadows to bring hope and life to those lost in the battle of the dark and light’  I dunno if I said tha’ right.”

      Severus pulled his fingers through his hair. “You didn’t tell Dumbledore?”

      Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. “I ‘ove him, and I owe him, but, no. He is the light in thi’ war, innit he? Firenze said you two need to be secret to fulfil ya’r destiny.”

      “Thank you, Hagrid. Truly.”

      Snape flushed as they walked down the cobblestone road leading to his childhood home. If anything, it looked even drearier than it had the last time he was here. It seemed a few more of the buildings had been abandoned, graffiti was sprayed across several surfaces. Hermione seemed completely unfazed, in fact, she was looking at the street with curiosity and gleam in her eye that he recognized: she had an idea forming in her pretty little head.

      He opened the door to his home and turned in disgust as the smell wafted out. It smelled of rotten wood, mold and cigarettes (his father had been an avid smoker). Snape was almost tempted to turn around and take her somewhere else, but she shoved past him. She put her hands on her hips and flicked her wand. The fireplace roared alive, a small plume of black ash billowed from the dirty opening.

      “A pipe must have cracked when I was gone,” Severus said, embarrassed. The floor looked damp.

      She nodded, unfazed. “Alright, then. So, I guess relaxing is out of order. Why don’t you find the pipe that burst, and I’ll start the cleaning spells in here.”

      “You don’t have to—”

      “This is my home now, too, right?”

      Snape flushed and nodded, feeling like he was eleven again and Potter was mocking him for being poor. “Of course. I’ll get right on that.”

      When Severus had disappeared behind the door, Hermione looked around the room. Her mind was going a thousand miles a minute and it had been since he had told her about his conversation with Hagrid. A plan had been forming in her mind, something absolutely mad. Right now, though she needed to concentrate on this mess. From what he had told her, his mother had never been a great housecleaner, but since her death a year ago, the home had laid empty.

      Flicking her wand, she pulled the water from the floorboards and fixed the rotten wood. By the time she was done the musty smell had begun to fade and the wood gleamed, even the walls looked better. Hermione did think that it would perhaps be better to replace them completely, but she didn’t have any money yet. By the time, Severus came back, his robes soaked, his black hair sopping, but the pipe fixed, the living room didn’t look like the same room.

      “Color me impressed,” he said.

      She grinned, mischievously. “Consider me not. I said fix the pipe, not take a shower in it.”

      “Really? I think I’m rubbing off on you. You get snarkier every day. Just for that, why don’t you go the shop and get us some food while I have a real shower.”

      Hermione patted his soaking hair. “And you get bossier.”

      For a moment, they both looked at each other, their eyes locked together. Hermione felt her stomach squeeze and warmth passed over her body. His eyes twinkled slightly as if he knew something she didn’t and in that second, she really, really wanted to know what it was. Her hand was still in the air, and she realized how idiotic that must look, so she dropped it to her side and turned away, blushing furiously. “Yeah,” she said, refusing to look at him. “I’ll do that.”

      Hermione rushed out the door and then realized she had no idea where the shoppes were. Bag in hand, she walked down the streets, trying to control the intense emotion flurrying inside of her. Snape had changed over the last couple months. She may have teased him about using his future self to define himself, but it felt like more and more she saw that part of him bleeding through. It was more than that though. Seeing his future-self seemed to confirm something inside of him, enabling him to the be man he had always wanted to be. The thought of him being more like the Professor Snape she knew should have bothered her. Instead, Hermione realized that she liked it.

      Even her own memories of the man, her perception of the events that occurred, had shifted. Snape’s biting sarcasm and drawling voice as he spoke with such superiority and arrogance was no longer something she looked down on. In fact, if anything, she found it appealing. It didn’t matter if it was her Severus or her Professor Snape in the future. Hermione couldn’t blur the lines between them. Just like Snape knew her just as well as a child after looking through her memories, Hermione knew him. He was the same to her, in whatever year.

      Finally finding a run-down corner store, Hermione walked through the store and piled things in the small cart provided. The awkward boy from a few short months ago was all but gone. The man was appearing right in front of her. Snape still had this witty sarcasm that he would toss at her, but there was always this slight twinkle in his eyes as he did. And he only had it with her. With everyone else he was cold, sharp and aloof and for a reason she couldn’t understand, that made her happy. It was like he was hers alone. Only she got the Snape with the mischievous teasing.

      A few hours later found Hermione unloading her haul onto the counter that she had to clean before even taking the food out. It took several cleaning spells to finally remove the years’ worth of muck on them. Standing on her tiptoes, Hermione tried to reach a set of glasses on one of the top shelves when she felt Severus behind her. His body lightly pressed against her as he reached the cups easily. His arms were almost around her as he set them down in front of her.

      Hermione felt his chin press against her head. “Shortie,” he teased quietly. A shiver ran through her body. Then he was gone, disappearing through the kitchen door.

      She turned and sank to the floor and pressed her hands onto her face. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered. “Oh, goodness.” Her cheeks were burning.

      His voice wafted from the other room. “I need you to check out your room, hurry up.”

      Standing, she turned back to the counter and rubbed her cheeks, trying to get them to cool down. Controlling her breathing, Hermione followed him.

      They went upstairs, which needed perhaps even more work than downstairs. It looked as if the roof had been leaking, and the damage was clear on the peeling wallpaper and sagging ceiling. Severus opened a door and gestured for her to go inside. “Will this be satisfactory?”

      It had clearly been his parent’s room. A queen bed sat in the middle with clean sheets, a dresser in the corner. A small window looked out over the street. It was dismal, but clean.

      “Where will you be sleeping?”

      Hermione made the mistake of glancing at him. He was still wearing his school robes as he leaned against the doorframe, making him look his future self. “Why? Are you offering to share a bed with me?”

      “No! I just… meant…” Her cheeks burned and she glared at him. “Stop doing that! You’re embarrassing me on purpose.”

      He smirked. “Really,” he said in his best Professor Snape tone. “And here I thought you had perhaps been under the misconception that when I offered you my home, I had also offered my bed.”

      Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Severus Snape, you still stop teasing me this instant. You are horrible.”

      He nodded slightly toward a door across from hers. “My home is not so destitute to just have one room, Hermione. I’ll be sleeping in my own room.” He took a step in and ruffled her hair slightly. “And you like my teasing.”

      She clenched her jaw, trying to bring her emotions under control. Fine, if he wanted to tease her like this then Severus would get fair turnabout. “But it’s so hard to tell sometimes,” Hermione teased, staring into his black eyes. “I mean, what would you have done if I had said, ‘Yes, Severus, I do want you to share my bed?’”

      His cheeks flared red, and his jaw dropped. Hermione left the room. Point to her.

      As she triumphantly finished putting away the groceries, Hermione felt something relax in her stomach as a happy thought flashed across her mind.

      Hermione Granger was madly in love with Severus Snape. And she was very, very okay with it.

Chapter Text

Hermione slung the pack of books over her shoulder and took one last look at the University behind her before smiling and setting off for a good apparition point. When she arrived at Spinner’s End, she hurriedly went up the steps and dropped her bookbag inside before rushing to her next meeting. The plan she was forming relied on timing and she only had a few years to work with. She couldn’t waste a second.

When she finally got home at the end of the day, she sat down heavily on the couch in the front room and took a long breath out. Exhausted.

“There you are,” a voice behind her remarked.

She turned her head and waved her arm at Severus. He sat down next to her.

“You’ve been gone all day.”

“I was signing up for University.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Like a muggle University? Why?”

Hermione tapped his nose. “It’s a secret.”

      “Even from me? I thought we weren’t keeping secrets from each other.” Besides the fact that he was in love with her, though, it wasn’t really a secret. He just hadn’t gotten around to it, yet.

      She looked at him. “Not a secret like that. It’s just part of something I’m working on and I’m not ready to show you yet. Is that alright?” Hermione hadn’t meant to hurt him. She was just so afraid of making a mistake and she didn’t want to show him until she was sure it was right.

      He put his arm around the back of the couch. “Fine. I assumed as much anyway. You’re as much of a perfectionist as I am and I’m sure you just want to make sure I don’t outshine you with my impeccable skill.”

      Hermione laughed and lightly shoved him. “Also, I may have bought the flat next to us.”

He leaned forward, shocked. “What?”

“Okay, so I had an idea, which is part of another bigger idea that I can’t tell you yet.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “And what can you tell me?”

She straightened. “When you take the mark in a month you’ll have more eyes on you, right? From both sides.”

His stomach twisted, but he nodded.

“Having me living here is going to seem strange and might pose too many questions then we can deal with. So…” She said, pulling a set of keys from her pocket. “Come with me.”

      He followed her as she went outside to the house that was smashed up against his on the left side. She went up to the debilitated brick house and put the key in. Hermione had to shove quite hard to open it up, but once inside he raised an eyebrow. It was much bigger than his own home with a large living area and a stairwell that went to the second floor.

      “There are four bedrooms upstairs, the kitchen is a little larger, and it has a nice sized attic,” she said. “Obviously, it needs work, but…” She spun toward him. “I think we could put in magically hidden entrance between the two houses, like a breezeway. You could use your house as an entrance to here. You would go in there and no one, not the Dark Lord, not Dumbledore, or anyone else, would have any idea that you live here… with me.”

      The realization of what she was saying, sunk in. His mind had been working overtime trying to figure out what she was planning. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “How did you afford this?”

      Hermione’s face went beet red, and she lightly scuffed her foot on the ground. “I got a loan from a muggle bank.”

      “And how exactly did you do that when you barely exist in this world, you have no job and no references?”

      “I may have confunded the loan officer.”

      Snape shook his head. “And what would have possessed you to do that?”

      “There are things… things that are time sensitive that I need to make sure we’re ready for.”

      “And would you like to explain those ‘things’ to me?”

      Hermione bit her lip. “Not yet. I’m still working out the kinks. Are you mad?”

      Snape looked around. “I don’t know. You know, when I teased you for being too much like me, I didn’t think you were also turning into a Slytherin.”

      “I think that’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” she said in mock hurt.

      “You put the Confundus charm on an innocent muggle, if that isn’t Slytherin cunning I don’t know what is. How much did you get for this dump anyway?”

      Hermione looked around. “Well, this was only 10,000 pounds, which I think for its condition was rather steep. I may have borrowed a little more than that.”

      “How much is a little, Hermione?”

      “100,000,” she said quietly.

      Snape gaped at her. “You borrowed a hundred thousand pounds? Are you insane?

      “I may have forgotten to adjust for inflation. I’m sorry, but by the time I realized I couldn’t exactly go back, could I?”

      He frowned at her. “Fine, putting that aside for now. What’s next here?”

      “Well, we want to avoid notice so I thought we would hire muggle contractors to do the work.” She smiled shyly at him. “Do you want to take a look around?”

      Severus gave her a long look before sighing. “Fine. Lead on. You act as if I have a say in the matter, anyway,” he grumbled.

      The truth was that the house, while in need of work, had a lot of potential. The downstairs held the living area, a loo, and a large airy kitchen. Upstairs there were three smaller bedrooms and a master with a full bathroom attached. An additional toilet was put between two of the bedrooms. Hermione and Snape decided to make one of the rooms, a study. They argued about who should take the master; they both wanted to give the other the larger room.

      After a few hours, they headed back to Snape’s childhood home. Hermione pulled a strand of her hair and smelled it. “I’m going to take a bath,” she told him.

      Severus nodded and watched as she disappeared up the stairs. He wandered into the kitchen and started pulling out food to make for dinner absent-mindedly, his thoughts on Hermione. He knew she had been working on something; the house was only a small part of it. There was something in her eyes, an urgency in her actions, but he knew he couldn’t push her. Once dinner had magically started, he trudged up the steps and stopped frozen.

      Hermione was standing outside of the bathroom, only a towel wrapped around her body. She glanced at him and her cheeks went red. “The water turned cold,” she explained. “I was getting my wand so I could… anyway.” She hurried into her room.

      Snape was frozen. He had never seen her with so little on before and the sight of her bare skin awakened something in him; a part of him he had never allowed himself to ponder. How could he? Long ago, he’d resigned himself long ago that he wouldn’t have the life of a normal boy; he was far too ugly and odd for anyone to care about him in that way. It felt too tortuous to indulge in those sorts of fantasies. Lily had been the closest woman to him, and he had wondered if maybe, with her, someday, but then things had gone horribly wrong. He closed his heart. At least, until Hermione. Then he had dared to hope; every second drawing him deeper into love with her. Now, though, it felt tangible, like something he could truly grasp. Perhaps, it was her purchasing that home. She was planning for a future… with him at her side. And she hadn’t even thought about it.

      Hermione almost laughed as she closed the door to her room and leaned against it. Her heart was pounding. How had her life gotten here? The loneliness seemed so far away. In fact, if she was honest, it had been gone for some time. That horrible feeling of being displaced – of being outside of everyone and everything – it disappeared when she was with Severus. He felt like a constant, her North Star. At first, it was his trust, then their friendship, then somehow… love. Real love. Despite everything they had before them, being around him made her ludicrously happy and she wanted more, even as her mind tried to get her to slow down, tried to tell her that logically such a thing couldn’t exist. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to it. Hermione had already lost so much in the war, and she wouldn’t lose Severus. Not now. Not ever.

      Severus didn’t know why, but he had almost half-expected Hermione to come down still in her towel. Instead, she came down in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a tank-top, her curly hair was wet still, a towel draped over her shoulders.

      “This looks good,” she said, sitting down.

      He nodded. Only now noticing the food he had magically made. A lasagna. He had been so distracted by seeing her half-naked, honestly, he had completely forgotten about it. “What made you think of buying a house?”

      She spooned some food out for herself. “Several things. One, Hagrid telling us about Firenze. You and I are clearly meant to do something, so we should stay close to one another. At the same time, though… I know in future events your home gets visited at least a few times by seedier characters.” At Draco’s trial, his mother had testified of going to Spinner’s End to do the Unbreakable Vow. And then Pettigrew stayed there for a short time. “Which means, obviously, I can’t stay there, and we can’t change things too much. It needs to seem like you are just a potion’s teacher. So, another place seemed logical, but too far and you would have to constantly floo or apparate. Thus, the house beside us.”

      “Logical,” he approved. “I think you also want your own bathroom.”

      Hermione sat down her fork. “I told you, you can have the master bedroom. It’s only right.”

      “Right to whom? You’re the girl and you bought the house.”

      “But you allowed me to stay with you.”

      “In a hovel. This place is hardly a step up from your tent.”

      “I would rather here than without you!”

      Severus stared at her in surprise. There were tears forming in her eyes. “Hermione,” he breathed out, concerned.

      She hastily brushed the away. “Oh, fiddlesticks. It’s nothing, I’m sorry. I just haven’t been sleeping well and getting all of this worked out has been exhausting.”

      “You should have asked for my help.”

      Hermione gazed down at her quickly cooling food. “I feel like I have asked for too much already. I sometimes feel like I’m no better than Dumbledore, asking you to help fight my battles, to risk everything for me.”

      He stood and quickly walked around the table, kneeling beside her. “Hermione, I want to help. Unlike Dumbledore, you have been honest with me, you gave me a choice. And I chose this. I chose to help you.”

      “I’ve seen so many die already,” she said, limply. “Knowing that I have to live through not one, but two wars again… the dead already haunt my dreams, Severus. I’m so afraid that I will fail this time.”

      He took her hands in his. “You won’t. You won’t, Hermione. Because I will walk with you, every step of the way. We will do this together.” Severus reached a hand out and gently wiped the flowing tears from her face, before gently cradling her cheek. “I won’t leave your side. Together – always.”

      Hermione closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. “Together – always,” she murmured.

Chapter Text

The knock on the door, insistent, is what woke Severus up. Blinking as the daylight filtered through his shabby little window, the man rolled over. It couldn’t have been more than six in the morning. Groaning as the knocking continued, Severus stood up and opened his door. Hermione was emerging from the other side.

      “Sorry, it’s for me.”

      “Who exactly is calling at this damnable hour?”

      She smiled apologetically. “The contractor. He wants to look over the other house and choose what materials we’re going to use.”

      Snape frowned. “Shouldn’t I be there for that?”

      Hermione raised an eyebrow, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d want to be. Most guys don’t really care.”

      “If it didn’t pass your notice, Hermione, I am not most men. If I am going to live in the place than I want to be part of it.”

      “Oh, okay. Muggle clothes, alright? I need to get down there before he leaves.”

      Snape inwardly moaned. Most of the muggle clothes he owned were scrappy, ill-fitting and dirty. He hadn’t worn any since before his fifth year, after his father’s death. No need at that point. Sighing, he walked back into his room and found the suit he had worn to the funeral, it was too small, but a simple transfiguration spell could remedy that. He just hoped he was awake enough.

      Hermione stayed in step with the large man as he roamed around the house. He kept huffing and scribbling notes, not really speaking to her at all. It was making her feel four-foot-tall and like a child.

      “Miss Ranger,” he said, frowning. “This house has a lot of issues. At this point, it would almost be easier to tear down the whole thing and start fresh. Preferably in a better area.”

      “I can’t do that,” she said, her stomach sinking. Maybe she should have done some of the work by magic. “It’s important that I stay here.”

      The man stared down at her, the pity was clear. He clearly thought she was some air-headed woman who had no idea what she was talking about. “Miss, this isn’t a good area. Take my advice, go to London, buy a nice little flat there… that’s what girls your age are doing.”

      “Excuse me,” Severus said from the door, surprising them both. He was wearing a neat black suit; his hair was pulled back and his face was stormy. “I don’t think I’m liking what you are insinuating.”

      The contractor blanched. “And who the hell are you?”

      Snape’s lips twitched. “Mrs. Ranger’s husband.”

      Hermione’s jaw dropped, but she quickly closed, looking quickly at the muggle in mock disinterest.

      The contractor shifted his feet. “I didn’t realize Mrs. Ranger I was married. I apologize.”

      Severus’s eyes narrowed. “It is not me to whom you should apologize, although I hardly think the fact that she is married should have bore any mark on how you treated her. You agreed to come out here, did you not? Being a reputable contractor, you would have done your research, known the general feel for homes in Spinner’s end?”

      “Of course,” the man said indignant.

      “Funny then how you used the area and the home as a reason to refuse the job. Worried she couldn’t afford it, weren’t you?”

      A look of shame passed over the man’s face.

      Severus crossed his arms. “Get out your clipboard. There is a lot of work to be done, and I do not have the time to coddle your every decision. From now on, if there is a problem, you will go to Hermione first. This is her brain project after-all and if I find out you are in anyway disrespecting her again…” He leaned forward slightly. “… we will have problems. Do we have an understanding?”

      The contractor straightened. “Of course, Mister Ranger.”

      Hours later Hermione and Severus sat down at the couch at his home exhausted. She opened a tired eye at him. “So… Mister Ranger?”

      He shrugged. “It was bound to happen.”

      “Really,” Hermione asked amused. “And how do you think that?”

      “We’re two young people living together, no parents in sight, no jobs. They are either going to speculate that we’re hoodlums, probably drug addicts, or that I’m a pimp. Being married, on the other hand, well, we’re just stupid in love, aren’t we? That’s not strange in either world.”

      Hermione pursed her lips. “You could have warned me.”

      Severus scoffed. “Warned you? What about me? It’s only been a week since you bought the house, and you haven’t said anything since. Then a contractor shows up.”

      “Oh, Godric’s balls, you’re right. I’m sorry, Severus. I’ve just been so distracted. I promise – I’ll tell you what’s going on… before it happens.”

      “Except for that little secret project, you’ve got going on.”

      Hermione looked at him apologetically. “Except for that. Soon, though. I promise. It’s almost ready.”

      “Fine,” he said grumpily and stood. “I’m going to go rest in my room.”

      She bit her lip as he walked away, wondering for the first time if she was making the right decision.

      Two weeks later found Severus arguing with the contractor in the kitchen of their future home.

      “And I am telling you these are not the tiles that I requested,” Snape said, waving the offending item in the air.

      Hermione rolled her eyes. For all of ‘letting her make the decisions’ Severus had been at the house constantly scrutinizing every choice. The arguments with the contractor were beginning to be a daily ordeal. Not for the first time, Hermione twisted the ring on her finger. It was strange still to be wearing it. Severus had brought it to her a few days after announcing they would be pretending to be man and wife; it had been his mother’s ring. An heirloom of the Prince family, it was ivy wrapped with a purple sapphire in the middle. She had initially refused but Severus had looked so hurt she gave in. He wore a similar ring on his own finger.

      It was an odd feeling. Hermione loved Severus, more than she could bear, but nothing had happened between them. Their long looks and extended touches were getting almost excruciating and now this. A fake marriage to the muggle world while they had to pretend to not even know each other in the wizarding. It was exhausting and if she was honest made finding any romance in their lives strained.

      “I was uncomfortable too,” a voice next to her said. One of the construction workers, a man with a cockney accent, smiled at her. He nodded to her ring and waved his own at her. “When I firs’ go’ married, couldn’a sto’ fiddlin’ wit’ it. But don’t ya worry, soon ya will think it’s a part o’ ya. Fee’ wrong wit’ out mine.”

      Hermione smiled kindly at him. “Thank you.”

      “Frederick Barnes,” the head contractor barked. “You aren’t paid to talk.” He looked at Hermione, giving a woeful glare at Severus who was flipping through the tile book in an attempt to find the one he did want. “Look, I’ve been thinking about what you said, about a breezeway between these two houses. I just can’t do it. Zoning codes—”

      Something crashed behind Hermione. She spun around, instinctively grabbing for her wand. The old brick oven had collapsed on top of the cockney man, Frederick. He groaned in pain. Blood pooled from under the broken bricks and metal. She spun and gave a look to Severus. He nodded and grabbed the contractor.

      “There’s a payphone,” Severus ordered at the contractor. “Just down the block. Hurry up and call the ambulance.”

      The contractor’s face was pale as he nodded and rushed out the door. Severus quickly closed it.

      “Hermione, you should let the muggles deal with this.”

      “No,” she said furiously. “It’s our fault. Our home.”

      She murmured the spell, ‘wingardium leviosa’ and lifted the bricks off the man. Severus knelt down next to him. “His left leg has been cut through to the bone. Do you have any dittany in that bag of yours?”

      Hermione nodded and accio’d the potion from her beaded bag that she still carried with her everywhere. She handed it to him. “I know a few healing spells,” she told him.

      “Let the dittany work first,” he told her. “Just a few minutes.”

      “What about the ambulance?”

      “We’ll tell them it wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked. The contractor only got a quick look.” Severus gripped her hand. “It will be fine.”

      She nodded. When the dittany had finished mending the worst of the wound, she cast a healing spell and made the man drink a blood replenishing potion. By the time the muggle ambulance arrived, Frederick was sitting up, his eyes on Hermione and Severus as if he had just seen a ghost.

      They didn’t have time to talk to him or, better, obliviate him before he was hauled off for a quick check-up. Although the wound had all but disappeared. The medics assured the contractor that he would be able to continue to work starting tomorrow.

      Later that night, Hermione pushed at her food. “What if he tells someone? Oh, god, what if I broke the statute of secrecy? Oh, god, I’ve bollocks everything up.”

      A knock on the door sent Hermione’s cup crashing to the ground where it shattered, her hand swinging out in surprise. “Damn.”

      “Hermione,” Severus said, standing. “You need to calm down. I’ll go see who it is.”

      Her hands gripped together under the table as he disappeared through the door. A moment later, Frederick Barnes walked in with Snape. “Mister Barnes,” Hermione said.

      “’Allo, Mrs. Ranger. I was hopin’ t’ speak t’ the two o’ ya.”

      Severus blocked the doorway, his arms crossed as he glared at the man. “And what exactly are you hoping? Perhaps to blackmail us for saving your life?”

      Barnes ducked his head. “I cannae blame ya’ for that, I s’ppose. Nah, actually, I’d like t’ thank ya’. You’s two saved my life, you did.”

      Hermione stood at that. “Thank us?”

      He smiled ruefully. “I cannae say I know how ya’ did it and quite frankly, I donna think I care. That inj’ry would’a cost me my job. I have five lil ‘uns at home and me boss woulda’ had me on the curb. Ya saved me and my family and that’s the truth of it.”

      Snape raised an eyebrow and gazed at the man. “So, you only came here to thank us?”

      “That and I’d like t’ help ya’, if I could. Like tha’ breezeway o’ yours. After the main contracting is done, I’ll do it for ya’. Had me some ideas when I were layin’ at t’ hospital.”

      “Oh, Mister Barnes, thank you,” Hermione breathed out, relief flooding through her.

            She ran forward and hugged the man, much to Severus’s chagrin. It didn’t take long for him to drag Barnes out, closing the door firmly behind him.

            Hermione crossed her arms. “Well, that was rude. You barely let him say goodbye.”

            “Yet, he still managed,” Snape said coolly.

            “What’s wrong with you? This is good news.”

            He scoffed. “So, that means you must hug the man?”

            Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. Severus was jealous and pouting. His arms were crossed and he was staring angrily at the fire in the living room.

            “And what do you suggest? I don’t express my thanks to the man?”

            “You didn’t have to touch him like that,” he snapped.

            Hermione moved to stand in front of him. “So, I’m not allowed to touch other people?”

            He narrowed his eyes at her. “Men. You shouldn’t touch other men like that.”

            “Why,” she asked, innocently. “Is there a particular reason I shouldn’t touch other men.”

            His face turned red. “Its… it’s just not proper.”

            “So, I shouldn’t say, touch their arm?” She reached and rubbed her hand against his arm. “Or hold their hand?” Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers. “And, of course, definitely, no hugging?”

            He was rooted to the spot as she wrapped her arms around his chest. At first, Severus was frozen, his arms awkwardly disjointed around her. Calming himself, he relaxed his arms and put them around her body. “Definitely none of that,” he murmured.

            “But I’m doing it with you,” she said, lifting her head to look at him.

            Severus swallowed hard, tightening his grip on her. “It’s fine with me. We’re friends and in some circles… married.”

            She clucked her tongue in mock understanding. “Right. So… you’re the exception?”

            “Exactly.”

            “Hmm, any particular reason that is?”

            “Because I said so.”

            Hermione chuckled, burying her head into his chest. “Oh, yes, makes perfect sense then.”

            Severus cleared his throat. “So, no argument, then?”

            “No argument, Severus.”

Chapter Text

Snape paced his study. The letter in his hand was crumpled and he felt as if his head was splitting with a migraine. Angrily, he opened it, looked at the hated words again and then threw it into the fire where it withered away. Severus sat down heavily in his chair, glowering at the fire. He barely heard the knock on the door until Hermione came in and sat down across from him.

“It came,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer. They both knew it was coming and had discussed it at length, but the reality was proving much different than either of them could have realized.

Severus Snape had been summoned by the Dark Lord to take the mark,

They had both known that the relative peaceful life they had grown accustomed to at Spinner’s End was coming to an end. Things were going to change. The future was arriving sooner than either of them wanted and what Snape had ahead of him weighed on both of them. Hermione had spent her days working out the details of her secret plan, as well as preparing for university, something she both looked forward to and dreaded. It, too, bore the weight of her hope and it made it feel tainted. Hermione loved to learn and read, but this felt like a crucible. How could she complain though when Severus had such darkness ahead of him?

She studied his face that looked as if he carried the weight of the world and nodded to herself. He needed hope. He needed to believe that the next years were going to have some meaning outside of ending Voldemort’s reign, noble as they may be. Standing, Hermione ran to her room and grabbed the notebook that held the insanity she had been allowing herself. She brought it down and handed it out toward him.

“What is this?” He had a feeling, her secret plan, but Severus was lost in his own mind. His heart felt like it was going locked inside a tight vice, fear pooling through his veins like ice. He didn’t know what her plan was, but he knew the woman well-enough that whatever it was, it was going to be the most carefully planned madness the wizarding world had ever seen.

“A mad-capped plan. I thought that maybe if you knew about it and if you agreed that we could work together on it.”

Severus took the notebook, but didn’t open it. “And why now?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Because maybe if you know what I’m hoping to do, it might make what’s about to happen a little less horrible.”

He frowned, incredulously. “Dutiful,” he said, dryly opening the pages.

Hermione sat down across from him, straight-backed, staring at him anxiously. His brow furrowed as he read over her plan, his fingers delicately turning each page. Hermione picked at her nails as she watched him.

Finally, when he was done, his brow still knitted together, he took a long look at the fire.

When he still hadn’t spoken, Hermione cleared her throat. “So? It’s too insane, isn’t it?” She pressed hands to her forehead, rubbing at her temples. Stressed tears pooling in her eyes. “I knew it. I just thought…” She felt his hands on her knees and looked down at him where he had crouched beside her.

“It is mad,” he said softly. “But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Hermione put her hand over his. “Really?”

“Really,” he assured her. “We need to fine-tooth it, of course. And there’s a few parts that I’m still a little unclear of and at least one that is completely…” He chuckled and sighed. “I have no idea if it’s possible. But we can try.”

“Oh, Severus,” Hermione cried, grabbing him around the neck, causing him and her to fall onto the ground. When she lifted herself up on her elbows, he gave her a lop-sided smile.

“Woman, is it just your plan in life to fall on me?”

Hermione grinned at him. “As often as I can. It keeps you on your toes.”

Snape growled and rolled with her, so he was now on top. She gasped. “See, not exactly enjoyable, is it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, coyly. “I don’t mind it all that much.”

Hermione felt her heart flutter as she realized his face was so close, his long black hair was teasing against her cheeks. Black eyes, intense and searching, stared down at her. His hand caressed her cheek, his fingers ghosting over her skin, sending chills down her spine.

When his head lowered, she began to close her eyes, just barely catching the smirk that passed across his face. His lips brushed against hers, smooth and warm. Hermione felt like she was flying as he moved against her, deepening the kiss and drawing her tight against his body so that in some ways she truly was hovering. It was better than she had imagined, and she had thought of it often. Severus was as meticulous with his kissing as he was his studies. When his tongue gently slid into her mouth, Hermione felt her whole-body heat like a furnace had suddenly flamed into her belly. He teased her tongue into a battle that left her breathless. Her mind, pretty much devoid of all thought except this moment, thought to herself he was aptly put into Slytherin.

When he finally pulled away, his head lowering to the crook of her neck, Severus gently peppered her with kisses. At this point, Hermione had her arms around his neck, their legs intertwined. A log cracked in the fire, sending little sparks from the stones. Hermione breathed out. She became all too aware of the fact that they were alone and there was absolutely no one to stop them.

“Severus,” she tried to say, but it came out as more of a whimper. “Severus, let’s slow down.”

He pulled back, only slightly, to kiss her cheek, before his eyes caught hers again. Hermione was relieved that he seemed just as affected as she was, his cheeks flushed. Severus gave her a firm kiss, before whispering in her ear. “As you wish.” Which only served to send chills down her spine.

Severus rolled off of her and Hermione gasped with the cold. Instinctively, she swatted him. “Really?”

Snape chucked, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re the one who wanted to stop.”

“Cheeky bastard.” She sat up and gave him a withering glare, but a smile crested her lips.

He sat up as well and moved so that they were opposite each other, their knees touching. “In this moment? Definitely.”

“That happy?”

“Aren’t you,” he asked, his brow furrowing, eyes worried.

Hermione reached out and took his hand. Intertwining their fingers. “Yes, if not slightly embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly the girl who goes snogging a guy like that,” she retorted. “And might I point out that it is incredibly unfair that you can kiss like that.” She tried to say it with her usual zest, but honestly the whole thing was in fact making her feel embarrassed and Hermione was sure her entire face must resemble a tomato.

Severus looked away to the fire, before giving her a small smile. “I have been thinking about it long enough.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin, hiding it behind her hand. She wasn’t sure what to say to that; she only knew that she had never felt happiness like this. They were inside of a bubble, so far away from all of the darkness that was looming in front of them. It felt wrong and delicate.

He seemed to sense her being uncomfortable and reached forward to grab the notebook that held what she had been working on the last couple months. “So, your plan then?”

She swallowed, staring at the notebook, her heart pounding for a new reason. “You really think we can do it?”

“Tell me your logic first.”

“It started forming when we discovered how my identity here worked. That as long as I stayed within the unknown of events that I could do what I want. I began wondering if I could do that with other things, other people. I couldn’t forget what you said about ‘known events’. I mean, we have countless papers filled with everything as far as I knew it needed to happen. Then you told me about Firenze’s prophecy, it hit me. ‘As far as they knew’. As far as they knew such and such had to die, so what if they just thought they did. What if my power, or whatever you want to call it, gives me the ability to pull other things into the unknown, into the shadows?”

Snape flipped open the notebook. “We won’t be able to save everyone, you know.”

“I know,” Hermione said, quietly. “But even if we were able to save one life, one innocent life lost to this war, wouldn’t it be worth it? Wouldn’t it make all of this horrible, wretchedness worth it?”

            Severus pulled her to him so that her back was against him, completely within his embrace. “Yes, but whatever happens, Hermione. You already saved me. And it’s worth a thousand lifetimes.”

Chapter Text

Severus said nothing the morning of. His face was pale and dark circles played under his eyes; he looked years older. Hermione quietly made breakfast which he didn’t eat. He moved to reach out to touch her, but he dropped his hand. Neither one knew what the right thing to say was. As he walked to the door, Hermione followed. Just as he opened it, he turned and gripped the back of her neck, pressing their foreheads together.

            “Always,” she murmured.

            Snape quickly left, his black robes billowing out behind him. As the door shut behind him, Hermione sank to her knees and wept.

            Severus apparated outside the gates to Malfoy Manor and felt his fingers tingle in response to the old magic. With false determination, he knocked on the heavy metal and waited for a few moments, as a house-elf appeared.

            “I’m’s Dobby, great wizard,” the house-elf said with a bow. It was a young one, his body draped with a white towel. “Master Malfoy be expecting you.”

            The man nodded curtly and followed Dobby up the road to the extravagant castle. The doors opened automatically as Severus drew near. He had been here before, but it had been a couple years, not since Lucius had married. The elf led him to a drawing room where Lucius was in discussion with his wife.

            “I just don’t understand,” Narcissa was saying, her aristocratic voice elegantly wafting through the room. “Every weekend. Every weekend he calls for you. We have had hardly a moment to ourselves.”

            “Narcissa, you forget yourself. If he were to hear of this, it would look poorly on me and the Dark Lord does not suffer disloyalty.” Lucius was standing at the fireplace, his arm on the mantle.

            “I did not offer my loyalty, husband.”

            Lucius frowned. “As my wife, it is obligatory, and you know that.” His gray eyes fell on Snape. “Ah, Severus, good to see you. Right on time.”

            The black-haired man bowed slightly, nodding politely to Narcissa, who raised a long thin eyebrow at him, before bowing her head. “Lucius, Narcissa.”

            “Husband,” Narcissa said, standing, and gently shaking out her robes. “I will be in the gardens. I will leave you to your business. Severus.”

            Lucius frowned as he watched his wife leave. “I am sorry about that. My wife has been feeling the strain of our Dark Lord’s attention.”

            “I would not begin to comprehend the intricacies of marriage. It seems a cumbersome situation, in my opinion.”

            “Always so harsh and honest with your words, Severus. While I appreciate it, the Dark Lord might not. His moods are volatile.”

            “Do not worry, Lucius. I know how to speak to those in power.”

            “Good, good. Now, before we leave, I feel I must warn you what to expect.” He indicated for Snape to sit, and the younger man obeyed. “When we arrive, you will await your turn to speak to the Dark Lord. He will search your mind; do not fight him if you do not want to be on the wrong end of a crucio. You will then be asked to prove your worth, I have told him of your adeptness with potions, but you may be asked to show your loyalty in a more visceral way.”

            Severus raised an eyebrow. “I may have to hurt or kill, you mean?” He and Hermione had already discussed this possibility. He hated it, but they both knew it was going to be the only way. Since their kiss, it had become a matter of discussion for every conversation. It had weighed heavily on them, all but eliminating any further romance.

            “It can be tiresome,” Lucius said, flippantly. “If not a little uncouth, but necessary. Do not hesitate.” His eyes darkened. “Do not disappoint, Severus. I am the one who offered your name to the Dark Lord, it will not look well on me if you are… lacking.”

            “I can assure you I will not.”

            “Indeed. Are those your best robes,” Lucius asked, looking the man up and down.

            Snape rolled his eyes. “We do not all have the coffers of old blood at our fingertips. I have yet to secure an apprenticeship, as such, my own stores are somewhat limited.”

            Lucius grimaced and snapped his fingertips. The house-elf Dobby apparated to his side. “Dobby, find some robes amongst my own, something more… refined for our friend here. Black, I am assuming?” Severus nodded, feeling annoyed. “You are nothing but a creature of habit, Severus. The first time I saw you I thought you looked like the grim reaper come to take my soul.” He shoved Dobby roughly. “Off with you.” The house-elf flinched and quickly disappeared.

            “You do not have to do this, Lucius. I see no point in pretending in being something I am not.”

            “You are my guest and when we meet the Dark Lord, you will be, in part, representing myself. Such drab and old clothes… I cannot in good conscious let you be seen that way. After you take the mark, dress as you please. For now, indulge me.”

            Severus scowled, but didn’t argue further. Even as Dobby came back with long black robes made of such a fine cloth that he almost afraid touch it, he merely excused himself and changed. He glared at himself in the mirror in the massive sized bathroom of the mansion. He despised how disjointed he felt in such a place. Lucius had always flaunted his immense wealth, even when he was at school. When he was younger, it had drawn Severus to the man. It made him feel like he was getting a taste of the life he should have had, had his mother married someone other than the abusive muggle she had roped in with. That feeling was long gone. Now, Severus just felt an immense distaste toward all of it.

            Lucius and Severus walked to the edges of the property. Once they were out of the range of the spells protecting Malfoy Manor, they apparated away.

            The home they found themselves at was slightly smaller than Lucius’s home, but no less grand. It was built with dark, almost black stone, and loomed in an evergreen forest like something from a folk story of evil mages and kings. Dark Eaters walked in and out of the building, their clothes reminiscent of the uniform of Death Eaters in the near future that Severus knew from Hermione’s memories. They all gave lingering glares at him as he walked past; he knew that look. Fresh meat. Nothing had changed apparently from his time as a student. Low man on the totem pole.

            Lucius led him inside where he bowed deeply to a man inside who, after looking Severus up and down, let them through. They walked into a large room, a ballroom in another life perhaps, but now it was dark and dreary with long black flags of the dark mark covering the walls. In the center of the room was the man of the hour: the Dark Lord.

            Voldemort sat at a stone throne, his eyes gazing over the crowd that milled around him. Perhaps once handsome, black hair lay flatly over a pale, wan face. His skin looked stretched and wrinkled, almost yellow. Severus noted this was most likely due to the Horcruxes; the splitting of his soul literally leaving him less of a man. Every few moments, the Dark Lord’s eyes would fall on one of the Death Eaters and Snape realized that he was performing a subtle legilimens on them. The person would freeze as their memories were invaded, before he would move on again.

            Lucius motioned for him to stay put and walked over to the throne, bowing deeply. They spoke for a few minutes quietly before Voldemort raised a hand and the room immediately quieted.

            “Our friend, Lucius, has informed he has brought us a new recruit,” Voldemort said, his voice echoing across the room. Those outside quietly came in and the room was filled. “Come forth, Severus Snape.” The tone of his voice was smooth, elegant, almost hypnotic. This was a man who was used to being heard and listened to.

            Snape walked forward, his occlumency shields in place. This was the moment he had been preparing for. Never was he more thankful to Hermione; her memories of him in the future is what gave him the courage to brave this moment. “Dark Lord, it is an honor,” he said, humbly bowing lower than Lucius had.

            “Of course, it is. Tell me, what is it that brings you here today so willing to take my mark upon you? Everyone here has a story.”

            This was a test. Snape kept his eyes low, but toward the throne. “The Dark Arts have always been an interest in my life, my lord. I believe under your regime, I can pursue it unlike our current weak-minded ministry who disavows such things.”

            “So, you come for yourself?” The Dark Lord looked amused.

            “I choose to serve a master who sees reason. For whatever skill I have or shall have, it only aids you, does it not?”

            “Indeed. Lucius tells me you are a fair hand at Potions. Is that the path you are following?”

            Snape stood straighter. “Thanks to my muggle father, I do not have many options available to me. My future is as bleak as his rotting corpse.”

            Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “I see. I know we all feel the dredge of waste inflicted upon our kind and their… savage ways.” The crowd murmured in agreement. “If you take the mark today, I believe I can find some way for you to receive your mastery in potions. I do not abandon my people unlike those in the ministry who have chosen the mudbloods and muggles as their cause.”

            “I would forever be in your debt,” Snape murmured.

            “Of course you would. Stand forth before me, Severus Snape.” Severus obeyed. “Legilimens!”

            Voldemort cracked into his mind with such force that Snape fell to his knees. He had spent every waking moment since the night he received Lucius’s letter preparing for this moment. His mind was invaded, but his defenses were better. The Dark Lord only saw what he wanted him to see. A poor half-blood with an abusive father, a strong hate of Gryffindors and Dumbledore, and an intense desire to be powerful.

            When Voldemort pulled away, a smile was on his lips. “Yes, I think you will do very well, Severus Snape, very well indeed.”

            “Thank you, my lord,” Severus said weakly. His head felt like a hammer was beating against it.

            “For your final test,” the Dark Lord said, standing. He snapped his fingers, and a muggle woman was dragged out. “Kill this creature.”

            Snape breathed out as steadily as he could manage. He knew this was a possibility but having it here now was sending panic through his body. Lucius was leaning against the wall, his eyes devoid of all emotion, but Severus knew he was afraid. Afraid that Severus was going to screw this up.

            The woman had already been clearly tortured. Her body was convulsing from a cruciatus curse. She had to be in her forties with matted blonde hair; her clothes were dirty and torn. This was not the first time she had been put on display like this. Her blue eyes fell on him as he took out his wand. Something inside of him burned and he found himself casting a non-speaking legilimens on her. She was scared… but not for herself. Her children. She had two children who had been left home alone when she was taken, they were young yet and she feared these monsters who had taken her would find them or worse they would starve. Her husband was away in the Royal Navy; he’d have no idea. Her only desire was for her children to be safe. It all but screamed in her mind.

            Severus pulled back and gazed at her steadily, his black eyes were piercing at her. “I do only as you desire, Dark Lord. It is my honor to fulfill your will and protect our future generations for a better future, a safe future for the purity of our blood lines.”

            He didn’t even hear Voldemort’s snide response; the muggle woman stared back at him. She understood him. She bowed her head. Her suffering was over, her children would be safe.

            “Avada Kedavra!”

Chapter Text

“Severus, I was so… worried?” Hermione blinked in surprise when she opened the door.

            Snape stood there with two children in front of him. He gave her a long, tired look. “I’ll explain in a little bit, for now… introduce yourselves.”

            A young boy, no more than eight or nine years old with sandy blonde hair gazed up at her with bright blue eyes. “I’m Rory, miss, and this is my little sis, Amy, she’s three.” The toddler gripped her brother with an iron strength, shoving her round face into his pants leg.

            Severus shuffled them inside and deposited them onto the couch before beckoning her into the kitchen. Hermione followed, too surprised to do anything else.

            “It’s been three days, what on earth happened,” she asked once they had entered the kitchen.

            “I’m sorry, things got complicated. It was as we feared… the Dark Lord demanded I kill someone, a muggle.” He clenched his forearm, absent-mindedly.

            Hermione’s eyes flickered toward the living room. “Oh, Merlin. Severus, no,” she said, quietly. “They aren’t?”

            He nodded grimly. “I managed to look into her mind before I… in any case, they took her when she was out shopping. Just a quick trip to buy some groceries, shouldn’t have taken her more than twenty minutes. They had been alone for more than a week.”

            “Those poor things. What… what are we going to do with them?”

            “Their father is in the Royal Navy.” Severus sat down at one of the chairs. “I’ve already contacted the necessary authorities, let them know about the mother, as much as I was able anyway. He’s on special commission down south but should be here in a couple weeks.”

            Hermione sat down as well, her brow furrowing. “They’re staying here.” It wasn’t a question. “Severus, I can’t imagine—”

            “Don’t,” he warned. He looked at her, his eyes dark. “I need to deal with this in my own way.”

            She closed her eyes, willing her own emotions down. Hermione had plenty of experience thanks to Ron and Harry about how men dealt with their traumas; she knew Severus wouldn’t be any different. “Alright. Then… just tell me what you need from me.”

            The relief in his eyes was evident. He straightened. “Rory is easy enough. He’s nine and the son of a soldier. Amy, on the other hand,” Snape shook his head. “Is a little more difficult. Rory says she’s still ‘potty-training’ and has ‘accidents’; she is also apparently very picky.”

            Hermione smiled softly. “So, help with the kids. Anything else?”

            “I may need time,” Severus demurred. “Just… moments when I can be by myself.” He looked pained saying that and the guilt, not just toward her, was etched on every worried line of his face.

            She reached out and he gave her his hand. “That’s fine. Whatever you need, however long you need it.”

            “I don’t deserve you.” Severus said it with such finality that Hermione’s heart broke a little.

            The one good thing about having gone through a war already was that none of this was new. Besides having experienced it herself, Hermione had seen countless others fall into themselves. Lose themselves in the horrors of what had happened and what they had to do. It was a miserable, aching feeling like a scar that tore itself into their very soul. Hermione still felt hers as acutely as on the day of the Final Battle; she knew it would always be there.

            She stood. “Shut up, Severus.” When he gawked at her, surprised, she gave him a lop-sided smile and put her hands on her hips. “You act like you have any say in the matter and you don’t. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not. Now, change your clothes into something muggle. We are going shopping with the kiddies.”

            A genuine smile crossed his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

            The next couple weeks passed in a flurry. Hermione and Severus quickly realized they knew next to nothing about children and found themselves in the crash course of their life. Rory was, generally, easier, but opiniated. He was horrified to his core that they didn’t have a telly and often begged to go play outside. Spinner’s End, though, only had one park that was often frequented by less-than-savory characters. So, instead, he caused havoc in the pitiful backyard and dirty riverbed behind the house.

            Rory also was old enough to understand his mother’s death. He put on a brave face, but the two adults could see it was ripping him up inside. The boy had been taught to prepare for the worst if his father were to die, but to have it be his mother was a horrible shock. A true English gentleman and a wonderful big brother, he put on a smile for his sister and did his best to act as if nothing were wrong. Hermione often woke to his crying in the bathroom at night. He never locked the door and she would cradle him as he wept; the dark nights more than the poor child could take without his mum.

            Everyone had assumed that little Amy would take toward Hermione, but to their surprise, outside of her brother, the toddler wanted Severus. His desire for solitude became completely squashed as Amy followed him around like a little duckling or to his horror, demanded that he hold her – constantly. Rory had packed for them a few things from home, which included a few of the girl’s favorite books and toys which Amy then made sure that Severus was well familiar with.

            Amy called him ‘seven’, confusing his name with the number, and ‘Seven’ was helpless against her. Hermione watched in utter amusement as the eighteen-year-old sat in the chair in the living room and read Amy the same books over and over. Rory could only surmise it was because their father was a sort of gruff man, being a soldier, and that clicked something for Amy. Hermione fell in love with the man more because of it. Her Severus, going through an unimaginable pain and guilt, patiently cared for the toddler. He would often look quite like the professor she knew, dealing with students, but then his expression would crack. Snape would just raise an eyebrow and shrug off whatever atrocities the toddler would toss at him, which at times, included unintended feet to the groin, being peed on, and toys to the face.

            Hermione didn’t question it when Severus, Amy and, sometimes, Rory usurped her bedroom for the sake of the larger bed. She knew it wasn’t about her. Amy may have been too young to understand what was going on, but she wasn’t oblivious either. She wanted her brother and, sometimes, Sevin. Whenever the little girl cried out for her mother, she could see that it hurt Severus as true as any blade to his heart might have and he would have to carry that burden for the rest of his life. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else, but Hermione knew that didn’t make it better. Their mother was dead, and he had killed her, because of a war that they knew nothing about, for reasons that they would never be able to understand. This was his penance.

            When their father finally came, Hermione almost cried. Captain Williams was a blonde, tall man with a stern face, but when he saw his kids, he fell to his knees and held them. Severus’s official story, and what the Captain had been told, was that his wife had got caught in the middle of a gang war. Not altogether common this side of the pond, it wasn’t unfeasible either. Unrest in the poorer parts of Britian had been causing increases in violence that had occasionally spread to more urban areas. It was true enough to what really happened to the woman that Captain Williams believed them.

            The children gave them hugs and Severus and Hermione promised to keep in touch, but as they watched Captain Williams walk away with them, they knew it was probably the last time they would see them.

            Severus went to his room after that, closing the door behind him and Hermione stood in the middle of the living room. The quiet of the house deafening.

Chapter Text

Severus stayed in his room for almost a week.

            Hermione would leave food at his door that he would only sometimes eat. She wished that she could do something to help him, but honestly, even with her experience, Hermione had never had to do what he did or pretend to be something so horrible. Rory and Amy had been a bright, bitter sweet part of their life for those two weeks, but she knew for Severus that it had been something else. The fact that he had to kill their mother… it was torture, psychological torture. Hermione now understood why in the future he had kept Harry at such a distance. Voldemort destroyed everything he touched, especially the innocence of youth.

            She was bowed over her coursework for university when Snape stepped into the kitchen. He was wan, but his face was clear. The thing that startled her the most was how much he looked like his future self. There was a sternness to his face, a maturity that hadn’t been there before. Severus sat down across from her, he frowned down at the table.

            “I took for granted the future,” he said. “Knowing it. I went that day believing that whatever happened I could handle it, that it would be fine. My confidence got me through the whole thing, then it hit me when I arrived at Rory and Amy’s home. I had taken something from them, something they would never get back.”

            Hermione bit her lip. “Is it too much?”

            Severus reached out and took her hand. He gently caressed her palm with his fingertips. “No. At first, I did think that. Then, I thought about it, what it would have been like the other way. If you hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have practiced my legilimens the way that I had, I wouldn’t have known about Rory and Amy – what would have happened to them? I wouldn’t have been prepared against the Dark Lord. I would have wanted the mark.” He looked down at his covered forearm in disgust. “No, Hermione. It’s not too much, but it’s not going to be easy. Sometimes, I’m going to need time to think and process some of these things. It’s going to change me. Are you all right with that?”

            “Severus,” Hermione said, suddenly overwhelmed. “It doesn’t matter. I know you, both of you. You now, the future you – Severus, I want all of it.”

            A smile crept across his lips. “You want me?”

            Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, quiet, you. You know that I do.”

            “Do I? We haven’t really discussed it since that night, have we?”

            “Oh, Merlin, you’re right. We didn’t.”

            Severus stood, gently tugging her hand. “Come on. This isn’t a discussion I want to have in this kitchen.”

            She walked around the table. “I can’t wait until the other place is finished.”

            “When did the contractor say? He moved the date again, right?”

            Hermione sighed heavily. “Christmas or a little before. Oh, goodness, I hope before.”

            “Fredrick is still going to help us with the breezeway afterwards?” He sat down at the couch and she followed suit.

            “He hopes so, but it depends on how cold the winter is. He did have a few more ideas for us if he can’t do the outside work right away.”

            Severus pulled his fingers through his hair. “Oh, I’m afraid to know.”

            “Well, I told him how here is going to need to look and he thinks it’ll be fairly simple.”

            “I’m sure he does,” he said, dryly.

            Hermione chuckled. “Oh, you’re not still jealous of him, are you?”

            Severus grimaced. “Jealous of that oaf? Ridiculous.”

            “Severus, you are being silly. The man is married with five children!”

            “And I’m still unclear as to what you see in me.”

            “Besides being incredibly intelligent, brave, and loyal?”

            He rolled his eyes. “You make me sound like a Gryffindor.”

            “Fine, then cunning and logical with a sharp wit.”

            “I thought you hated my sarcasm,” Severus remarked.

            They were drawing closer to each other on the couch, their legs touching. ;

            Hermione drew her hair away from her face. “I thought I did, too. Until I didn’t. I quite like it about you now.”

            Severus’s black eyes looked at her in disbelief. “Hermione, you could have any man on this planet. Anyone.”

            “No one else understands me like you do. I can’t talk to anyone about books, like I do you. No one else gets it. They make fun of me or get this glazed-over look in their eyes. No one understands…” Her throat caught. “… No one understands the pain like you do. You would never tell me to move on, to forget the past. You get it and because of that I’m safe and I’m happy for the first time in so long. I don’t know why Fawkes brought me here, not for sure, but I believe, a part of it, was so I could be here with you. So, I could know you now. So… so, I could love you.”

            Hermione looked down at her hands, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. She saw his hand cover hers. He pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in. His scent.

            “I love you too, Hermione,” he said quietly into her ear.

            Tears ran down her face now. Her fingers digging into his robes. Hermione wasn’t sure what this was, because it was something more than the love she had felt before. It was real and adult and, in so many ways, made her feel small, but powerful at the same time.

            He pulled back, gently caressing her cheek. His black hair fell over his face, but she could still his expression. One of wonder, one of love. He kissed her. His lips were soft and gentle. Severus eased her backwards on the couch so that she was reclined against the back as he deepened the kiss. It was breathtaking, just as wonderful as the first, and Hermione was lost to him. Their arms gently moved against each other’s bodies. Her favorite place was his chest and twining her fingers in his hair. Severus couldn’t seem to decide. His fingers ghosted across her body, from her neck to her thighs.

            Hermione couldn’t understand how anyone would think that Severus was somehow less than. Every moment she had known him, he had always expressed himself with dignity and pride. He was handsome, at the very least to her, who was attracted, it seemed, to the dark, broody types. Perhaps, it was just him. The black eyes and long black hair, the pensive, cynical personality with the sharp, biting humor. The powerful and graceful way in which he moved. She wanted to know him, in every way that she could, she wanted to be as close to him as possible. It just grew stronger every day.

            They eventually ended up both laying down across the couch, their bodies encircled. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care. She was lost in him. She loved him and he loved her. Hermione had hoped, of course. Her dreams filled with him. Filled with selfish wants and desires, filled with her hopes. For him, she wanted everything. And even if it took the entire next twenty years, Hermione Granger would save Severus Snape’s life.

            When they finally parted, hours later, they made their way upstairs. Severus gripped her tight at her door, his lips once again finding hers and Hermione almost didn’t let him go. She wanted him and she was so in love she didn’t want to hesitate. But he was, unfortunately, more aware of the logical side and promised her they had all the time in the world.

            Hermione sank into her bed and stared at her door. Her heart pounding, her lips sore and tingling. Other parts of her felt like they were being touched by live-wires. She tried to almost will him to open her door, to come inside and… Hermione threw herself onto her pillow at that point. White-hot emotions combined with reality seeping back in threw her into utter chaos.

            Pushing herself deep into the covers, Hermione tried to control the grin that felt stuck to her face. This was an immense happiness, like an explosion of pure joy emanating from her stomach. A part of her wondered, selfishly, if she could just have this. Nothing else. No grand plans. No wars. Just her and Severus. A simple future just of love.

            As she fell asleep, Hermione knew she couldn’t. And neither could Severus, but there was only two more years until Voldemort would fall the first time. Then eleven years of an almost freedom building to his eventual return. Then… then Hermione would save Severus and it would be over. After that, they would live happily ever after. Just a future for them – two people in love. They would have that. Hermione would burn ‘Hogwarts: A history’ before she failed.

Chapter Text

Hermione splashed cold water on her face from the kitchen sink, her head whirling. It was already nighttime; she had spent hours over her grueling task. Since she was twelve years old (she had been a year older than the other students), Hermione had studied everything about the wizarding world. She’d grown confident in her ability to retain information, but now… she felt ridiculously stupid. It was embarrassing but she had apparently, like most of her magical counterparts, underestimated muggles.

            The books strewn over the kitchen table were ‘basic’ university level. Algebra, literature, science, and, her major, physics. Hermione had gone in so confidently, not realizing that most of these subjects were already advanced of what had would have been learned in secondary school.

            “What’s wrong,” Severus asked, coming up behind her.

            She sighed, but didn’t turn around. “Oh, just feeling how Ron and Harry must have felt all those years at school.”

            He gave a quick glance at the table and smirked. “Not Hermione Granger.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged them.

            “I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

            “Then don’t,” he said quietly.

            Hermione groaned. “But what I learn could help me, us, with the plan. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

            Severus lowered his head until his black hair tickled the back of her neck and he gently kissed the nape. “Then believe in yourself.”

            “That’s not fair and not that simple.”

            He lowered his arms until they were moving down her back and wrapped them around her waist. “Hermione, take a step back and look at the problem from a new way. If you are hitting a brick wall, don’t keep walking into it. Find a way around it.”

            Hermione leaned back appreciatively into his arms, feeling his warm chest behind her. “What am I going to do when you go off to your apprenticeship?” Lucius had contacted him just the night before that he would be studying under a master in Germany with ties to the Dark Lord.

            “You’ll find someone new, better looking with a far better personality.”

            She gasped and turned around, careful that his arms stayed around her. She gripped him tightly and stared up at his bemused face. “None of that, Severus Snape.”

            “And why not? You’ll be going to that fancy muggle university and one of them may just sweep them off your feet.” He was joking, but a part of him secretly feared that very thing. Hermione was beautiful with her brown wavy hair and bright eyes. She could do so much better than him and that thought terrified him.

            “You already swept me off my feet, Severus,” she retorted. “Or do you think I’m so wishy-washy that I would just jump from one guy to the next?”

            “I mean, your questionable choice of Ron Weasley—”

            She shoved him, laughing. “I was a teenager, you prat.”

            He grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her hard. Hermione melted into him, letting him pull her into his embrace again. The kissing was still new, falling somewhere between modest pecks and impassioned snogging.

            Her cheeks flushed; she raised an eyebrow at him. “What was that for?”

            “For being you.”

            Hermione’s eyes lit up and she smiled shyly. “If that’s the case, you’d think you would kiss me far more often.”

            “Then how would we get anything done,” Severus said, slyly. His eyes turned serious. “Why don’t you tell me what the problem is?”

            Hermione sighed and moved so she could see the table. “The coursework is harder than I thought. Most secondary students have built up to these subjects and I keep getting lost in the lingo that they take for granted.”

            “How long do you have before classes start?”

            “Three weeks,” she said miserably.

            Snape looked over the books. “Then it’s simple.”

            “How?”

            “Get secondary level books. Study them first. I’m sure there’s plenty of books that cover the basics. Get a rudimentary feel for the subjects. Hermione, you’re trying to take a NEWT’s level subject when you haven’t even taken first year or whatever the Muggle version of that is. Rebuild your brick wall one stone at a time to make it an entry instead of a wall.”

            Her brow furrowed. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “I love you, Severus.”

            “If pointing out the flaws in your logic is all it takes then I guess I don’t have anything to worry about.”

            “You never had anything to worry about in the first place,” she scolded lightly.

            He reached out and took her hand, the one that still had their fake wedding band. His thumb and forefinger gently moved it back and forth. “Maybe if this was real,” he said softly.

            Hermione’s stomach took a leap. “Have a real marriage? We’re too young. We haven’t even—” She turned away, blushing. “I just mean, we just begun this.”

            “Do you think we’ll break up,” he asked, his face turning dark.

            “No,” Hermione said, immediately. “I just mean, it seems like a big step when we’re still figuring everything out. You’re leaving, I’m starting university – which is going to make it so much harder for us.”

            “Hermione, I love you. I don’t think that’s going to change. As for everything else, what does it matter when we do it? I want to know we’re bound for eternity, you and me. I thought I understood what love was, but the more I learned of you, the more I realized I had no idea. Hermione, you are the depth of the ocean, the limitlessness of the sky. The love I have for you is more than just infatuation, more than emotion. It is our moments together, built on trust and loyalty. It is everything. More than touch. More than lust. If I only sat next to you and read with you that would be enough to fulfill me for a lifetime.”

            A tear ran down her face as he spoke. Severus had managed to pinpoint exactly how she felt about him. He was also right. The future was known and unknown. Their paths joined precariously together with no idea how they would bridge their paths; thrown together in an act of supposed destiny. Hermione had no idea how she was going to change the future, if she would be able to change anything at all… especially his death. A cold, sinking feeling filled her. In twenty years, he could die. It seemed like such a long time when she first came to this time, but now it felt like nothing. No time at all. It wasn’t near enough.

            “Okay,” Hermione said. She looked at him steadily.

            Severus blinked, confusion filling his face. “Okay?”

            “I’ll marry you, Severus Snape.”

            Severus breathed out. He was leaning against his bedroom door having all but run there after their conversation that ended in a way he had not expected. His eyes flickered at his finger that held their fake marriage band. Hermione had agreed to marry him. It was impossible; it had been his own madness that made him say such a such thing and he had said it in the absolute confidence that she would refuse him.

            He was nobody. Someone to be used, someone to be walked on. It had been that way his entire life and seemingly would continue until his apparent end. His father had abused him; albeit his mother had taken the bulk of it. Instilled in him that he was a worthless, little nobody – would never amount to anything. Not a skinny little freak like him. Severus had grown up in abject poverty; hunger and the cold, a bitter part of his childhood. Tobias had lorded over him his meager superiority even as they struggled to live.

            Then he finally got a taste of hope. His Hogwarts letter. Even better, the pretty red-headed girl he had befriended would be going as well. Severus had been so sure his life was going to change. Then, before he had even arrived at the gates, reality had hit him. Not good enough. Again. The butt of jokes for the popular, more powerful, children of Hogwarts. Worthless for being Slytherin, worthless for being poor. It didn’t matter how smart he was, how clever. Just like in the muggle world, the magical favored the powerful, the popular. The Marauders were just like his father, bullies pushing him down because he wasn’t graced with good looks and money.

            No one saw him. Even Lily, his apparent best friend, had chosen to stay within the boundaries of the popular world. He had felt her pull away. So, he found company in the only people who were as bitter as he was. Severus was just a child, who wanted to be seen, cared about, loved. The Dark Arts just helped fill the empty part of his soul that no one else would fill. He was so lonely, but if he was going to be alone then he would at least have respect and fear. It’s what the Dark Lord offered him, what he thought he was going to offer him.

            Hermione changed everything. She saw him. She loved him. She cared about him. He didn’t have to explain himself, because she understood. She wanted from him exactly what he wanted from her. It was a foreign feeling. After eighteen years of bitterness and suffering, she had swept into his life and destroyed all the preconceived notions he had begun to believe. Every day he woke up and couldn’t believe how his life had changed. The fact that it was only five months since she had come seemed impossible because everything had changed.

            He hadn’t been lying to her. She was his everything. He didn’t want to risk losing her; risk losing the only light his life had. Severus truly did want to bind himself to her. He wanted a permanent line between him and her that would last no matter how far they may be from each other, no matter what horrible things may lay before them. Was he brash? Certainly. Severus didn’t do half-measures. He didn’t change his mind easily or become victim to the passage of time as others did. His future self was proof of that. Maybe that’s why he had done it. His future held a certainty that was outside his control and Hermione had given him back some of his free will.

            Of course, then the panic had set in. How could it not? He was standing in the derelict remains of his past. His shoddy life whispering to him that this couldn’t last. Severus could almost hear his father, the stink of alcohol and smoke flooding through the rooms, telling him that he didn’t deserve this. His dreams were filled with images of Hermione with that Ron Weasley, but then sometimes, worse, with Sirius. The Marauders would be laughing at him. James with Lily. Sirius with Hermione. Scoffing at him that he had been ridiculous to believe that anyone would love him. And Severus would be standing alone.

            A light knock on the door which he was still leaning against made him jump. Swallowing, Severus opened the door slightly.

            Hermione flickered a smile at him. “Are you all right?”

            “I’m fine,” he tried to say unemotionally.

            “Right,” she said and squeezed herself through the partially open door. “So, running away is fine?”

            “I didn’t run away,” he lied, crossing his arms. “I was thinking, and I was tired.”

            Hermione shook her hair and glanced at his bed. “So, why aren’t you in bed?”

            “Because you knocked on my door.”

            “Fine,” she said, shaking her head. She sat down on his meager bed and patted it. “Then sleep.”

            His resolve crumbled and he gaped at her. “With you?”

            “With me. I’m not letting you be alone.”

            “Why,” he argued. Panic started to set in.

            Hermione cocked her head at him. “Because I’m not stupid, Severus. I know you better than you think, and I saw the look on your face. Until you leave for your apprenticeship, I’m not going to let you alone to your thoughts or you’ll do something ridiculous like doubt yourself or, worse, us.”

            “You said yourself, we’re just starting out. We haven’t…” His cheeks flushed. “We’re no way near—”

            “What? Sleeping? I’m sure you’ve done it before. Unless you really are a bat and hang from the ceiling to sleep then I see no reason at all why we can’t.”

            He looked at his piss-poor sheets, the lumpiness of his tiny little mattress. “At least, let’s sleep in your room.”

            Her eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow. I want to sleep where you slept growing up.”

            “Why in Merlin’s saggy balls would you want to do that?”

            “Because I love you and I’m not ashamed of you, your past or whatever other misplaced notions you think make you less. This is the room that made you my Severus, the smart, cunning and loyal man I know. Now, lay down or I’ll hex you.”

            Severus debated for a moment, but he knew her well enough that he knew she didn’t bluff. She eased slightly back and slid herself under the rough, ripped blankets. He pulled his robes off, revealing his simple black t-shirt and slid his shoes off. Sitting down, he sat straight backed, away from her.

            She tugged him downward.

            “Alright, woman,” he said, grumpily. “How are you so calm about this?”

            Hermione pulled the covers over him and lightly patted his chest. “I’m not. But I would rather be with you and freaking out, than without you and worrying. Plus, tomorrow, we are going to a muggle bookstore and that makes me happy enough to brave anything.”

            He moved his arm so that it was under his thin pillow and her head. Her leg was tossed lightly over his as she settled into the side of him. “So, the way to your heart is through books, huh? Not jewelry or pretty clothes?”

            Hermione smiled. “Severus, I would kill you if you wasted money on something as ridiculous as jewelry.” Her arm rested on his stomach sending jolts of electricity through him. “And you don’t need to buy your way into anything. You already have me.”

            “Birthdays, Christmas?”

            She pursed her lips. “Hm, maybe. Or quills. Leather journals – I’ve always had a soft spot for those. Ooh, bookmarks with the little tassels. I’m always losing mine.”

            Snape yawned and he smirked when she followed suit. “A woman after my own heart.”

            “And you? What does Severus Snape want?”

            “Similar to you. Books, journals. Potion ingredients. Herbs. My father always talked of having this collection of spirits, an entire room of all kinds. I think I’d like something like that. It’s one of those memories that have stuck with me as this adult dream.”

            She nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll remember.”

            “Good night, Hermione,” Severus murmured, kissing the top of her head.

            “Good night, Severus.”

Chapter Text

Severus woke up first, the light of a new day spilling through the small window. He hadn’t gotten much sleep; once the initial rush of their conversation passed, the man became all too aware of her. Hermione, infuriatingly, fell right asleep. The weight of her head pressing into his shoulder as if completely blissfully ignorant that they were so close. He had never felt so ill at ease with his own inexperience or as ashamed of his own lacking self.

            He couldn’t understand it. Hermione loved him, but it wasn’t as if he were some attractive, smooth guy; he was lanky with flat hair and a face he hadn’t quite grown into. His clothes were used, torn and, often, hand-me-downs. Severus was awkward, sarcastic and rude. If his face didn’t scare people off, his personality did.

            Breathing out, he tried to shift. He’d long lost feeling in his arm, but had been unwilling to move. Severus glared at the ceiling. He had felt so old after he had gotten his mark, like years had been added onto his life, but now, he felt acutely eighteen. His proclamation from last night settled over him like the scratchy, gray wool blanket that covered them. Severus was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Hermione to wake up and say she changed her mind. She’d have every right. He had lost his mind. They hadn’t even really dated their first kiss barely a month ago.

            She moved slightly, her leg that she had tossed over him, rising higher and Severus froze. His hands gripped her leg, stopping it from moving any further as blood rushed to his face. Eighteen years old indeed – he had completely forgotten about his morning wood. He had to get out of bed before she woke up. The humiliation alone would kill him. But Severus was stuck in some god-awful maze. She was lying completely on his arm, her leg and an arm over him. The moment he would move, she would wake up. Hermione would see.

            First, his arm. He shifted slightly and began pulling it. Her face frowned slightly, and she squirmed slightly closer. Severus was sure Hermione was trying to drive him mad at this point. Tugging, he had almost completely got his arm free when her eyes fluttered open. Severus panicked. Grabbing her leg, he spun her bodily and tossed her the other way, jumping out of the bed and out of the room.

            He sank to the floor in the bathroom, practically hyperventilating. They could not do that again. Then he ran his fingers through his hair, his heart squeezing painfully, because technically they were a couple and couples did things together. Intimate things. Hermione would see him, touch him. He would see… her. Severus practically fell against the door, a mixture of hormonal desire and panic seizing in his body. He was the epitome of loser – Severus was sure of that.

            Ten minutes later, Severus opened the door to his bedroom to see Hermione sitting up in bed. She was trying to tame down her hair that had begun to change in the night, turning from wavy to frizzy. She raised a long eyebrow at him.

            “You know, I’ve been woken up in easier ways,” she said, dryly, covering a yawn.

            Severus shifted awkwardly, his long black hair falling over his face. “I had to go to the loo,” he lied.

            Hermione pulled her knees up and gave him a long look. “Right,” she said, smirking. She stood and walked next to him. “You know I slept in a tent with two boys for a year, right? I’m well familiar with the… morning traditions of teenage guys.” His face went pale, even as she reached up and kissed him on his cheek. “Next time, just ask me to move, alright? Honestly, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter. I’ll make the coffee.”

            Severus stood there, too shocked to move, as she disappeared down the stairs. She was definitely trying to kill him. He couldn’t understand how someone as kind and good as Hermione could say something as blasé as that without even being embarrassed – yet other times she was as awkward as he was. She was an enigma. A terrifying enigma that seemed determined to break down every wall he had.

            Two hours, a very quiet breakfast and a couple of arguments later found Hermione and Severus apparating to the heart of London. Hermione wanted to go to a large bookstore where she was sure to find everything she needed to prepare for her classes and Severus wanted to avoid the crowds. After a lengthy discussion, Severus caved since the construction crews were going to be working at their other house the entire day and the noise was going to be deafening.

            To his chagrin, their second argument had been about his muggle clothing. All he had were some scrappy t-shirts that didn’t really fit anymore and the suit. Hermione told him that he should buy some new clothes today (which he didn’t have the money for) and then started the real argument of using her money which Severus was adamant that he wouldn’t do. All he knew was that one moment, she was glaring at him, telling him that he was an arrogant, prideful cad and the next they were snogging. Which honestly was the real reason it had taken them as long as it had to get there. It was sudden and more passionate than either one of them were expecting, born out of an argument of all things, and neither one of them quite knew how to react afterwards.

            After Hermione had adjusted her clothes and hair, she had glared at him and told him that if they really were getting married, then everything she had was his anyway. Severus had just nodded, wondering to himself if he was going to have to start taking cold showers when he was around her. The clothes and money were as far from his mind as possible. All he could think about was kissing her like that again. He may as well have agreed to become her house-elf for all he was paying attention. Severus’s mind was completely on other things as she dragged him around. Like sleeping together again and snogging her senseless. Though at this point, they didn’t feel mutually exclusive.

            Severus sighed as he became a human buggy inside a clothing store. She piled high into his arms an assortment of undershirts, sensible black and white button downs, a long black overcoat, and a few different pairs of jeans and slacks that he could wear. Hermione had to stifle a laugh when he was drawn to a black frock. He glared at her and tried to tell her that it had nothing to do with his future self; he liked frocks. They looked regal.

            When they neared the end of their clothes shopping excursion, she had allowed him to put the wardrobe on the check-out counter then shooed him away, telling him she wanted him to go buy some teas for them. He knew the real reason: she didn’t want him to see how much it cost. Severus allowed it; he was still in a good mood from their kiss earlier.

            Ten minutes later, she ushered him and some of the new clothes into a bathroom so he could change into it. When he stepped out, she was beaming.

            He looked down at himself. She had chosen one of the black button-downs, a grey undershirt and black slacks. “So, am I presentable to be with you?”

            Hermione kissed him lightly. “Always, but you look particularly handsome.”

            Severus flushed and let his hair fall in front of his face which she immediately pushed back. Bags in hand, he followed her to their next stop, the bookstore. He was curious and wandered around for a while before he finally just watched her. Hermione was in her element. She walked from shelf to shelf, her fingers gently tracing the spines of the books. Her eyes lighting up when she found what she wanted.

            She had almost ten books by the time she was done. The check-out lady winked at them. “You two are the cutest couple I’ve seen in a while.”

            Hermione and Severus flashed shy looks at one another. “Are we that obvious,” Hermione asked.

            “Oh, honey, you are so cute. Yes, it’s obvious. A new relationship, I’m assuming?”

            Hermione nodded, looking down.

            “That’s nice,” the check-out woman said. “Enjoy it. The honeymoon period doesn’t last forever. Then it’s hard work and long talks.” She handed Hermione her receipt and gave Severus another wink.

            As they walked out, Hermione pulled him to the side and opened her beaded bag. “Put it all in here.”

            He looked around, making sure no one was watching. “I’m not complaining, but why?”

            When everything was inside, Hermione smiled and reached out her hand. “Because this.”

            Severus stared at her hand for a moment, confused, then grinned. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. “You’re that happy about what that lady said?”

            “I guess it just reminded me that while not everything is going to be easy, we can still find our moments out here, in the muggle world. We don’t have to hide. Out here we’re just a boy and a girl in love – no evil dark lord or manipulative old professors.”

            “I suppose you’re right, which means…” He pulled her hand and yanked her to him. Severus kissed her, pulling her tight against his body. Someone in the mall whistled. When he pulled back, Hermione’s face was red. “I can do that as often as I want.”

            Being away from the house, from Spinner’s End, made Severus feel more confident. Maybe it was the clothes or the fact that he had the most beautiful woman holding his hand, but today, made him feel like he was on top of the world. All of the problems waiting for them, his impending apprenticeship that was going to take him so far away, were small at that moment. They were, as Hermione said, just a boy and a girl in love.

            The next few hours passed in a happy haze. They stopped by a few more shops, ate at a small bistro and walked along the streets of London, before they finally headed back. It was a rare moment that they weren’t holding hands. Severus stole a few more kisses as well. Spinner’s End looked bleak as they apparated. The dimming sun cast a pall over the houses and several construction trucks had been left in the dusty street.

            Going inside, Hermione dumped out their haul. She organized her books, ordered Severus to put away his new wardrobe and then began work on dinner. She was cutting vegetables when Severus came up behind her. He pulled back her hair and gently kissed her neck.

            “Stop that,” she laughed. “I’m going to accidentally cut off a finger.”

            “We wouldn’t want that,” he murmured in her ear. He gently tugged the knife from her hand and turned her around.

            Hermione stared up at him, bemused. “You know, you have been quite handsy today, Severus. I think London is a bad influence on you.”

            “Or maybe it’s waking up to you in my bed.”

            Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned rosier. “Sev…” The words died on her lips.

            Severus kissed her, deeply. His lips moved against her in a way that made her stomach do cartwheels. There was a warmth to him that whispered of things they hadn’t yet discussed and Hermione had to grip onto him to keep her knees from buckling. She was so tight against his body that she could feel his racing heart. He pulled back, gently giving her kisses down her cheek and to her ear.

            His voice whispered, “And just think we can be this close every night, nothing but sheets and pajamas between us.” Severus pulled back, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’ll let you finish cooking,” he said in a normal voice and walked from the room.

            It was a mean thing to do, but Severus couldn’t help himself. He would be damned if he was the only one nervous about their new sleeping arrangements. Hermione had all but demanded they sleep together until he left, acting ridiculously nonchalant about the whole thing. Severus supposed it was because she had slept in the same tent with her little friends, Harry and Ron, for that year that she had felt confident in her decision. Not for Severus. No, she needed to understand that this was different. They weren’t friends in that way. His intentions were anything but innocent.

            A couple hours later, Hermione fumbled through her drawer, doubting everything she owned. Normally, she would wear simple plaid pajama bottoms and a tank top. Severus’s words though hung in the air and she was panicking. Suddenly, all she could think about was how the thin the fabric was or how low cut the tanks were. She finally settled on her normal bottoms and a baggy sweatshirt.

            When Severus knocked on her door, her breath hitched. He had on just simple bottom and one of his new tank tops. Something about knowing how much skin she would be touching sent her reeling. He smirked and walked inside. A part of her wondered if she had taken things too far. ‘Playing House’, that’s what her father called it when he used to complain about too young couples living together. Putting aside the fact that he and her mother had only been in their mid-20s when they got married, Hermione’s father had always been a strict, by-the-book man. He would have strung her up by her toes if he could see her now.

            Severus laid down casually on the bed, a stark difference to how he had been the night previous and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. Crossing her arms, she studied him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

            “I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” He had his arms behind his head.

            “Severus Snape, I should throttle you. You purposely made me nervous, didn’t you?”

            He shrugged. “Need I remind you that you are the one who demanded that we ‘sleep’ together. I just thought you should remember what that means.”

            “It’s sleeping. Just sleeping,” she argued, half-heartedly.

            “Indeed. But I’m not your normal bedfellow, like your platonic best friends, am I? We’re more.”

            Hermione sighed. “Fine. I concede. You win, Severus. This is awkward, but I’m not giving up my point either.” She strode over and climbed onto the bed, her eyes never leaving him as she pulled herself under the covers. “I would still rather have awkward with you then without.”

            Severus pulled her until she was close to him, their bodies touching under the warmth of the cover. “Then we should make it less awkward, shouldn’t we?”

            “Sev, we’re supposed to be sleeping,” she said breathily. “Sleeping.”

            He let his face brush against hers, his lips gently teasing at her. “Whatever you say, Hermione.”

            Her arms wrapped around him. “I’m glad you understand,” she said.

            “So, we should stop,” he asked. He gave her a kiss just below her lips.

            “Mm-hm.” Hermione caressed his back, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin top. “Sleep is so important.”

            “Incredibly,” he murmured. Severus cradled her cheek before kissing her.

            Her eyes closed immediately and soon they were intertwined, the heat of their kisses matched only by the hurried movements of their hands over their respective bodies. Their tongues played a battle against one another. Severus ghosted over her sides, his fingers tugging at the edges of her sweater, teasing with the possibility of slipping underneath. Hermione’s fingers had no such qualm; they slipped under his tank top feeling the hardness of his stomach.

            When one arm found its way inside her sweater, pressing against her bare shoulder blade, Hermione pushed back. They gasped for a second as cool air rushed between them. Not trusting him or herself, Hermione piled several pillows between them. Severus laughed at that. They fell asleep holding holds over the barrier.

Chapter Text

           The next few weeks went by so fast that before Hermione knew it, class was starting, and Severus was leaving. They didn’t know when he’d be able to come back while he studied for his potion mastery, but they both had been preparing for the worst. There was a strong possibility they wouldn’t see each other for a year. It was perhaps because of that Hermione started thinking of his proposal again. They hadn’t really spoken of it, not seriously, since he had asked, but a strange fear was surging through her body.

            Severus had been the only person she knew, that knew the truth about her, and she was terrified of him leaving. She may have loved him, but it was more than that. He was her friend and the only anchor she had. A part of her was afraid of being alone; not in just some childish way, although being by herself at Spinner’s End did scare her a bit, but also because he had kept at bay the nightmares of the war. Hermione was terrified of them coming back, of that feeling of being displaced taking seat in her heart again.

            Maybe, that was why, as they sat in front of the fire reading, that she gently poked him with her socked foot. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she bit her lip. “Severus, do you still want to get married?”

            His book slipped from her fingertips and dropped on his lap. “I… I… Why do you ask?”

            “Because you’re leaving in a few days. I might not see you for months or even the entire year. I’m scared,” she admitted.

            Severus’s look of shock slipped from his face, and he reached forward. “I’m scared too.”

            She gave him a small sad smile. “I just thought that if maybe we were… you know. Then we’d have this connection that would make it not so bad.” Hermione gripped his hand, flustered at the way her words were coming out. Six months ago, she could not have imagined that she would be trying to get married. Let alone to a young Severus Snape. Her Professor Snape that she had watched for years fly through the halls with his black billowing cloak terrifying all the students around him.

            His black eyes studied her for a moment. “We would want to go somewhere else to do it,” he said finally. “The Ministry keeps track of marriages and it’s automatically recording when the binding ceremony is done.”

            Hermione swallowed. “Where do you think?”

            Severus leaned back, his brow furrowing. “The war is spreading here. Not just in Britain, but it’s tainted the countries around it. I know you said none of them will be officially involved, it would still be a risk, though.”

            “Then where?”

            “I don’t know. America possibly, but there’s no way we could get a portkey before I had to leave.”

            Hermione glanced at the fire, feeling her stomach drop. She bit the inside of her cheek. “What about a muggle marriage?”

            “A muggle marriage?” Severus leaned back. “It won’t be the same… magically speaking.”

            “I know,” Hermione said, sighing. “But we could do this now, then when you’re back go to America and do the official wizard ceremony there. At least we’d be connected. Oh, and then we could do the name changes.” Hermione clapped her hands together. “You could actually become Severus Ranger. You’d have your own secret identity in all of this, all of our muggle assets would be tied together, it would be perfect.”

            Severus gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m glad our marriage has so many advantages for you.”

            She shoved his knee. “You know what I mean. We could go to the courthouse tomorrow, file all the necessary paperwork.”

            “What about a honeymoon?”

            Goosebumps spread across her skin and her heart began to pound. “I don’t know. Why don’t you plan that? We’d only be able to do something one night, top two.” The insinuation was clear, and Hermione felt herself warm at the thought. The reality began to hit home. Yes, she wanted a more visceral connection to him, but they were still at the beginning of their romantic relationship. But they would be married – it changed things. The thought of not seeing him for so long though only strengthened her resolve.

            “Fine,” Severus said, softly. His eyes gazed at the fire, lost in thought. She could tell that he was thinking of what he wanted to do.

            “Then tomorrow, we get married.”

            Hermione paced all morning.

            She hadn’t slept at all and instead worried about every detail that was going to occur that day. A part of her also agonized over her choice – she literally felt split in the middle over the decision but in the end, as sunlight whispered into her room where she and Severus were sleeping, she knew that she’d rather be married to him than not. It only took looking at his face to realize that.

            When he woke up, which was not much later than when she had, they had scoured the attic for his documentation. Luckily, his mother had saved every scrap that Severus had ever produced, keeping it safely away from his abusive father. Severus had sat there for a moment, his fingers gently threading through each piece of art, every note, every piece of schoolwork his mother had carefully preserved. Hermione hadn’t asked him how his parents had died, but she knew his mother’s death had been more recent.

            After his birth certificate and ID cards were safely in his wallet, did they get ready to go. They were going to the government offices at Cokeworth to get married with a stopover in London so they could get better clothes for the ceremony. Hermione stopped outside a bridal shop, staring at the beautiful dresses there. She had never considered herself a feminine type of girl, but the night of the Yule Ball had shown her that she did have some of those qualities and she wanted to look beautiful for Severus.

            Walking inside, Hermione timidly asked the shop woman if the store had anything simple, but elegant, explaining what she was about to do. To her surprise, the woman had been overjoyed, flouting how romantic it was. Before long, Hermione had a pile of beautiful dresses in her arms. The third dress stopped Hermione cold. It was a modern take (for the 80s) on a Victorian dress with a high-lacy neck, the arms fanning out with little rings that would slide over her middle finger to keep them from falling, and a faux bodice. The skirt wasn’t too long but instead created the illusion of an almost mermaid like silhouette; tight against her hips and upper thighs before widening in a mixture of lace and silk. The shop woman cried. It was surprisingly affordable as well, though, Hermione suspected the kind woman had given her a discount.

            Changing back into her normal clothes, she met Severus. He had a suit bag over his arm and an oddly charged look about him. When she asked, he told her it was a surprise. Hermione shrugged, allowing him his moment, and they apparated back to Cokeworth. In the government offices they both changed clothes. Hermione cried more than once, thinking of her parents and her friends, who weren’t going to be there. She had always imagined that her father would walk her down the aisle, that they would share the first dance at the reception. The pain of that reality hit her hard. The war and Voldemort still destroying the light even after they were gone.

            Then she chuckled. For a moment, her brain had forgotten, they weren’t yet. She was 21 years in the past and Voldemort had yet to die once, let alone his final time. Hermione had to stop herself before she just began maniacally laughing. Her life was as far from normal as it could get. She was literally a time-travelling witch about to marry her best friend (and Severus truly was) who in the future was nineteen years older than her and her (possibly) dead Professor, but right now, she was technically older than him.

            Hermione finished getting dressed with a smile on her face. When she thought about how her life could have been if she had stayed in her time, it wasn’t happy. The future of her time was moving into a place that she didn’t like. The connections of the past were fading, the war was being replaced with baby booms and weddings, the dead were being forgotten, and Hermione was just another among the lost souls being pushed to accept all those things. Instead, she had a chance. A chance to make things better and somehow at her side was someone she had never expected to find but was so happy that she had. It somehow made sense. Severus, displaced and lost to the first war. Hermione to the second. Brought together to heal parts of the damage done.

            The suit, or rather tuxedo, that Severus had purchased proved to be a pain to put on without the help of the store worker where he had bought it. He had opted for an older type of suit, a five-piece, with small buttons on the vest and a sort of Holmesian feel to it. He and Hermione both enjoyed old muggle books from the eighteen hundreds and perhaps because of the influence of their wizarding life they both leaned toward that style. His suit had a sort of inlaid texture that made it look as if he had stepped out of time. An ironic sort of deal since his… girlfriend (fiancé?) actually had.

Severus adjusted the suit for the fourth time before finally leaving the changing area. He had pulled back his hair and now felt bare to the world. Pacing back and forth in the lobby, ignoring the knowing smiles of passerby (why else would a young man be wearing a tuxedo in the courthouse looking so nervous?) Severus tried to control his breathing. The worst part was the realization that he wasn’t nervous because he didn’t want to marry Hermione, it was that the horrible voice in his head was telling him he didn’t deserve to.

            A door opened and he stopped. Swallowing, he turned toward the women’s changing area and his jaw dropped. Hermione was stunning. She had always been beautiful, but now she looked ethereal. Her wavy hair had been partially tamed into long looping braids that were laid tastefully over a shoulder with tiny white flowers pressed into it, her white dress was perfect, modest yet hugging at her body. Her face had the softest touches of make-up (she often opted out of that sort of thing, he didn’t mind, she was perfect without any of it) that matched the white dress.

            She stepped forward, her cheeks slightly red. “Do I look alright,” Hermione asked.

            Severus was gob smacked. “I am the luckiest man alive.”

            Her face broke into a smile that warmed his heart. She reached out and gently adjusted the white bow tie at his throat. “Then I am the luckiest woman, because you are ridiculously handsome.”

            He was afraid to kiss her and ruin her make-up, so Severus gently took her hand and kissed it. “Ready?”

            “Ready.”

            They walked to the offices where the ceremonies were performed and signed in at the front. The lady at the desk took their information and identification. Five minutes. In five minutes, they would be married.

            They were ushered into a small courtroom where a small judge stood waiting. He was wearing, ironically to them, a long black robe. He talked to them for a few minutes as they waited for their witnesses (office workers who had offered) then the ceremony began. The judge spoke in a clear voice that echoed across the room. Hermione’s hand was tight against Severus’s as he spoke and he was relieved that he could feel her sweating, clearly as nervous as he was.

            “Jean Ranger, do you take this man, Severus Snape, to be your lawful husband, to love and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?”

            Hermione looked at Severus, her eyes welling with tears, as she said, “I do.”

            “Do you, Severus Snape, take this woman, Jean Ranger, to be your lawful wife, to love and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?”

            Severus gently squeezed her fingertips. “I do.” Past death, for eternity, he thought inwardly.

            “Do you have the rings?”

            Severus nodded. They had removed them the night before and now he pulled them from his suit pocket. He handed his to Hermione and slid hers onto her finger. She followed suit, her fingers slightly shaking as she did so.

            “Good, good. Now, with the power invested in me by the courts of Cokeworth and the Queen of England, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride, Mister Snape.”

            The witnesses clapped as he pulled her close and gave her a chaste kiss on her lips. He could taste the saltiness of her tears. When he pulled back, she gripped him, pulling him into a hug.

            “I love you,” she whispered into his ear.

            Severus tightened his embrace. “I love you,” he echoed.

            An hour later, they stood outside the courthouse married. They had signed the papers, turned in their name changes to the recording office and shook a few hands of well-wishers. Their unconventional name change had been their only snag. The man in the office had looked at them like they were crazy since they wanted Severus’s last name to change, instead of hers. Even in her time it wasn’t exactly a normal thing to do, but Severus had given the man one of his iconic Snape glowers, very nearly verbally castrating the poor worker until he gave in with practically tears in his eyes as he did so.

            Everything settled, Hermione adjusted her dress. “So, what next, husband? Did you procure us a honeymoon and do I need to change?”

            He looked down at her dress. “Definitely not. I want to enjoy the way you look for as long as possible. As for our honeymoon – it’s a surprise.” Severus led her down an alley and apparated them away.

            They appeared on the edge of the coast, a small cottage town nestled between beautiful green plains and hills and the ocean. He led her down a small road where trees hid a small stone house. It overlooked the ocean while also giving privacy. When they neared the door, he took out a small key and opened the door before sweeping her up into his arms.

             The house was quaint, with simple, white-washed walls and cozy accoutrements denoting an ocean cottage. Wine and a basket of fruit were set out on the coffee table where a small fire burned happily.

            “Severus,” Hermione breathed out after he had set her down. “This is beautiful. How did you do this?”

            He crossed his arms. “My aunt on my father’s side owns a few of these across Britain. When we went to London yesterday, I got into contact with her, reminded her that she owed me, and she offered me this one. You like it?”

            “I do. Oh, it’s wonderful.”

            Severus looked down. “It’s not too simple? I would have rather taken you someplace grand, some warm beach somewhere with staff to dote on you…”

            She placed a finger on his lips. “It’s perfect. We have time for everything else later, but this is… it’s perfect.”

            Severus took her hand and kissed it. “I’m glad. It’s been completely stocked with food, so we won’t have to go out if we don’t want to.”

            “Can I look around?”

            He nodded and watched as she wandered from room to room. It was small. Only a living area, kitchen and bedroom. His heart pounded when she lingered at the door of the bedroom. He could tell she was thinking the same thing as he was. Tonight, they might… consummate their marriage. Severus felt like Alice in Wonderland, jumping from ten feet tall to two inches. He wanted her, that much he knew, but, he was a virgin. His inexperience plagued him.

            Hermione sat down at the comfortable couch in front of the fire and was immediately reminded of Spinner’s End. Albeit nicer, the tone was still the same. Severus was sitting next to her, his back straight. He was nervous. She didn’t blame him; she felt the same way. They were married. After only six months of having known each other and barely more than a month of being a couple. They hadn’t even done anything more than just kissed, but she knew they had made the right decision. She could feel it in her bones.

            “So, what now?” Hermione tried to say it lightly, but Severus flinched.

            Severus fiddled with his suit, adjusting. “I don’t know,” he said, honestly. “What do you do after you get married?” He posed it as if he were asking an academic question.

            Hermione chuckled. “I was thinking today when I was getting dressed about that. At home, back in my own time, I would have had my friends, maybe my parents. It would have been a wedding maybe at the Burrow, because that sort of thing always is there. My dad would have walked me down the aisle and then there would have been a big reception.”

            “I’m sorry… that you didn’t get that.” He knew how much her relationship with the Weasleys meant to her. They had been like her wizarding family. She had told him months ago that she felt like they had meant more to her than she had to them, the tag-along friend.

            Hermione reached out and took his hand. “I’m not upset. I was for a moment today but then I thought of everything good that has come since then. I wouldn’t give up having met you now for anything, Severus. I know this isn’t typical, but I’m glad that it’s not. I don’t think I wanted ‘normal’, not after the war and after burying so many friends. Going back in time, it’s scary, because I feel like I’m being asked to do something, but I don’t know what that is. Yet, from the moment I came here, you were there. I’ve felt safe because of you.”

            He moved closer to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. “You think we still made the right decision?”

            “I do,” Hermione said soundly. “But I think we should also make up our own rules. We’re not the same as other people, other couples.” She cuddled into his chest, wrapping her arm around him. “We should do this our way.”

            “I agree.” Severus lifted her chin and kissed her lightly. “Our way.”

Chapter Text

            Severus shifted uneasily on the couch. “What do we do now?”

            Hermione pulled at her wedding dress. It was beautiful, granted, but amazingly uncomfortable. “Have you seen me enough or do you think I could possibly change now.”

            He smirked, tugging at his own bow tie to loosen it. “No, you must keep it on for the remainder of the evening, that is the demand of your husband.”

            “Oh, really,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s your demand, huh?”

            “Of course,” he said, haughtily, trying to keep the smile off his face.

            Hermione stood, adjusting the dress. “I would have thought it would be taking it off, but…” She drew the word out. “If that’s the demand of my husband, I guess I have no choice.”

            Severus almost fell of the couch, his face turning beat red. “No, no, wait… I change my mind.”

            “Too late,” Hermione drawled, walking into the open kitchen. “I just want so much to make this marriage work; I couldn’t think of refusing.”

            He followed her. “You’re horrible, Hermione.”

            She started to rummage through the fridge and pulled out a few things for dinner. “I’m horrible? Says the King of Sarcasm, the Prince of Rudeness, the Lord of Verbal Murder.”

            Severus sat down at a stool. “I think you could give me a run for my money. You get better and better at it. I remember when you first came, you told me how much you hated how I spoke.”

            Hermione carefully laid a few vegetables out while the meat came to room temperature. “I did, didn’t I? I guess, being around you, it grew on me.”

            “I have that effect of people.” He didn’t, of course. Most people absolutely abhorred him.

            “Apparently. Sev, can you grab that apron? I don’t want to ruin the dress; we could hand it down to our daughter someday.”

            Severus stared at her. Daughter. Hermione, too, seemed to realize what she said and blushed.

            “I just mean, you know, if we… just give me the damn apron.”

            He obeyed, putting it over her head and tying it back for her. Severus wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her tight to him, kissing her cheek. “Yes, wife.” He sat back down, silent, contemplating.

            Hermione looked down at the vegetables. “Do you want children?”

            Severus’s brow furrowed for a moment. “I had never thought about it, to be honest. My experience with that sort of thing isn’t the best. My parents didn’t exactly model the whole thing well.”

            Hermione nodded. “What did happen to them? If you don’t mind my asking.”

            “My father died in my fourth year. An ironic accident. Stabbed outside a liquor store by some confused kid who had fallen in with the wrong crowd. Wanted to prove himself like he was some American gangster from the ‘Godfather’. The cops called it a great tragedy, it was in all the papers. Just gave politicians some new leverage to complain about the state of Cokeworth.”

            “I’m sorry,” she said, quietly.

            Snape clenched his fists. “I’m not. I just wish it had been a different way. Alcohol poisoning or rotting in prison or something, but instead he was proclaimed this tragedy of society. My father. A drunken abusive bastard.”

            Hermione piled the vegetables into the skillet, allowing what he said to ruminate. She couldn’t imagine having someone like that for a parent. Harry rarely spoke about his upbringing, but Hermione had ascertained enough to know it was beyond bad; it was the first time she had really heard about that sort of thing. Unfortunately, she realized how common it was in the wizarding world. They just didn’t protect their children and then were surprised when victims of it like Tom Riddle or even Severus leaned to the dark arts.

            Severus pulled his jacket off and folded it on the seat next to him. “My mother was devastated. A few news outlets wanted to talk to her, but she had almost no experience with the muggle world and ended up locking herself in the house. It was so ridiculous. She was finally free of him and instead she wasted away. She… got sick. Lung cancer.”

            Hermione’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, no.”

            “Mum didn’t even smoke. Even at the end, even after the bastard was gone, he had one last laugh. Cancer because of secondhand smoke. She refused to go to any sort of doctor. Said it was her punishment for not being a good enough wife.” He spat the words out and he was almost shaking.

            She rushed around the island and wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t say anything. What could she? There weren’t any words to make it better. At first, he didn’t respond to her and for a brief moment, Hermione thought he might push her away, but finally the tension eased in his shoulders, and he buried his head in her chest.

            He let out a long shuddering breath before pulling back. “She died in my sixth year. I was still at school when I got the owl about it. I had just sent her a letter trying to convince her to go see someone again and she… she never got it. Lily’s parents found her. Went to check on her after she hadn’t stopped by for tea.” Severus frowned down at the table. “I hadn’t even had a chance to tell Lily yet when the Marauders attacked me. Dangled me upside down for everyone to see. At the time, I was so angry at everyone and everything. When Lily tried to help, I just thought of her parents’ letter to me, and I lost it. I called her a mudblood. It wasn’t fair or right—”

            “Severus, it doesn’t matter.” Hermione felt herself rile with anger, though. Lily, being unwilling to forgive him, seemed even worse under the circumstances. Harry had told her the whole story about it, but the context made it even more aggravating.

            “She stopped being my friend, even when I tried to explain. Not that she would let me. I think she was already in love with Potter at that point and didn’t want to see past it. She always had a habit of seeing things in very strict lines. Good – bad. She’d already decided that he was the good one.”

            Hermione grabbed his face. “Then she was wrong, wasn’t she? Because I got the good one.”

            Severus frowned, the lines on his face easing. “Or your crazy. No one else seems to think like you do.”

            “What do they know? I was part of the Golden Trio that won the war, I was the one sent back on some special mission, and I have it on very good authority that I’m an ‘insufferable know-it-all’.”

            His face broke out in a smile. “Merlin, I love you.”

            “I love you too,” she said happily. “Now, let go. I need to finish dinner.”

            “Yes, wife.”

            Hermione cooked and Severus laid out the dishes. It was habit at this point, though the roles often reversed. He would often cook at home; his enacting and acute way of doing potions easily transferred to the art of the culinary world. It was one reason he had been such an immense arse when it came to their new kitchen. She smiled, thinking of him using it, but when her mind went to it, she could see him in the future. Her professor moving about the kitchen, his older face discussing the finer points of spices. It shocked her how happy she felt and how much she wanted that future.

            It became the running gag of the evening that she wouldn’t take off her dress whereas Severus kept pulling off more of his own. By the time dinner was done, he only had on his pants, his button-down was open and his sleeves rolled up. Hermione, on the other hand, was clearly getting more frustrated as the night wore on. The beautiful dress made it almost impossible to move around, she had to be extremely careful because of the flowing sleeves and the lace had become difficult to move around in as she perspired in the kitchen.

            They had moved into the living room and were reading books at the fire when she tossed her own onto the coffee table and stood.

            “Enough,” she told him. “I want this dress – off – now.” Hermione turned around and pointed her finger at the zipper.

            Severus chuckled and stood. He wasn’t even thinking about it as he obeyed and zipped it down, at least until her back became exposed. The dress fell around her shoulders. Hermione was still huffing, oblivious, pulling at the sleeves that were sticking to her upper arms when one of his long fingers traced the edge of her spine.

            Hermione froze, her body becoming taut, as she felt his hand move up and down the length of her spine. She closed her eyes as she felt his hands rest on her shoulders, gently moving down her arms until they had freed her arms from the dress. His hands rested over hers as the dress fell to her hips. Hermione had never been so exposed before and her whole body shivered, somewhere between the cool night and the intimacy of the moment.

            One hand moved around her now bare waist and the other reached up to gently move her head as he kissed the nape of her neck. She didn’t know what to do as the hand at her belly shifted slightly to rest just below her chest, touching her bra. The other hand moved, gripping her waist to slowly spin her around.

            The dress plummeted to the ground. Hermione almost couldn’t bear to look at him, her eyes boring into his neck. His fingers caught her chin and lifted her head. He was looking at her in pure amazement. “Hermione, you’re beautiful.”

            Her face went hot, and she wrapped her arms around him in an attempt to hide herself. She felt him chuckle. “You can laugh,” she muttered into his clothes. “You’re not mostly naked in a bright room.”

            “I suppose you’re right. Then I guess we have to remedy that.” Severus reached down under her knees and lifted her up, carrying her to the bedroom. Hermione gasped and dug her face into his neck.

            When he plopped her onto the bed, Hermione shyly pulled the covers over her as he sat on the edge of the bed. His hand tentatively rested on the covers.

            “You know we don’t have to do anything, right?” His black eyes were looking at her with such honest sincerity that Hermione released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

            “It feels like it, though, doesn’t it? Our wedding night.”

            Severus caressed her cheek. “Wasn’t it you who said we make our own rules. We don’t have to do anything that we’re not ready for.”

            Hermione stared down guiltily at the covers. “Are you okay with that?”

            “I won’t lie and say that I don’t want you like that, but—” He squeezed her leg over the blankets. “—Our relationship means more than all of that. I would wait forever for you.”

            Tears burned in her eyes. Hermione reached out and he fell into her embrace, holding her tightly. “I don’t deserve you. I really don’t.”

            He pulled back; his cheeks flushed. “Aren’t we a pair? Neither one of them thinks we deserve each other.”

            Hermione brushed her tears away, chuckling. “Are you really sure though? I feel bad.”

            “Hermione, I’m not that kind of man. In any case, I think it would almost be torture if we did then I had to leave. This way, I don’t know what I’m missing when I’m gone. If we rushed into it, we wouldn’t have time to figure things out, to make sure we’re doing it right.”

            She breathed a sigh of relief. Her own insecurities had been welling up in her since after their wedding. She’d snogged Ron a bit and he could be a bit handsy, but it was such a small moment that in terms of experience it was almost nothing. A few snatched moments in the aftermath of war and death. The relief that Severus felt the same way was such a stark contrast to what she was expecting, perhaps because she knew Ron wouldn’t have been as willing. He was impatient, childish and waspish when he didn’t get what he wanted. Severus, though, was different. Even at this younger age, he was thoughtful, refined, and seemed to have the restraint of a god.

            Severus stood. “I’m going to change. You can too, although I really don’t mind either way.” He walked away, disappearing into the bathroom and Hermione smiled down at her blanketed legs.

            The moment Severus closed the door he clenched the edges of the sink, breathing hard. It had taken everything he had to control himself in that moment. His more illogical part of his body was reacting heavily to seeing Hermione partially naked. Luckily, he had spent the better part of his young life ignoring that part of himself and had managed to keep himself in check as they talked.

            The truth was if she had been willing, he would have gone all the way with her in a heartbeat. But he saw in her eyes the apprehension of the moment. She wasn’t ready. He probably wasn’t either, but that seemed to rarely matter when it came to his baser side. Severus peeled off the last of his suit and turned on the shower to cold. At least he only had two days of controlling himself before he was gone. It filled him with dread to leave her, but at least he wouldn’t be under this torture. Well, not that kind of torture anyway.

            When Severus came back into the bedroom, Hermione was in the bed, but she had a baggy t-shirt on. She smiled tentatively at him, clearly still guilty. She hadn’t built their normal ‘wall’ between them and when he lifted the covers he saw that she wasn’t wearing her normal pajama bottoms. His breath hitched.

            As he laid down, she scooched over to him and put a leg over him. His hand instinctively went over it and he felt his heart jump touching her bare skin. “You don’t seem to be making this easy for me,” he tried to say in a droll way, but his voice came out slightly higher than he meant to.

            Hermione cuddled against him. “I said I wasn’t ready for that, not that I didn’t want you at all.” She reached up and touched his face, a soft, shy smile on her lips. “I’m human too, you know.”

            Severus pulled her close to him. “You are going to be the death of me, wife.”

            “I like that, by the way,” she told him. They were so close now their noses were practically touching. “Wife. It feels right.”

            “Good, because I like saying it.”

            He kissed her then. Their lips joining into a battle with one another as their hands roamed against one another with an abandon they hadn’t allowed themselves. Eventually they would pull back. The heat of the moment taking them close to the line they weren’t ready to cross yet, but the wall didn’t go back up and they slept in each other’s arms.

            Hermione, the girl displaced, and Severus, the boy forgotten, joined together in a love that transcended time. Their destiny on the horizon.

Chapter Text

            Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as warm light spilled through the wide windows of the cottage. Her Spinner’s End bedroom had only one window and it faced away from the rising sun in the morning; feeling out of place, she glared in confusion at the brightness. Then it rushed back. The wedding, the cottage. Hermione was married to Severus Snape. She turned and looked at the still-sleeping form of her husband. His black hair fell over his face, but she could still the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

            Getting married was probably the most juvenile thing Hermione had ever done. Besides facing off against a troll, flying a dragon or the hundred other things she had done as a teenager. The marriage though was different. It was about her. A complete selfishness on her part, because she was afraid to be alone. Hermione knew it was more than that. She loved Severus and she wanted to make sure that they were connected even though he was leaving in a day for Godric knew how long. But she couldn’t ignore the feeling it left in her. Hermione never did anything for herself.

            The troll, she had hardly done anything except cry in a bathroom stall and then take the blame to protect Harry and Ron, who were, ironically, the reason she was there in the first place. She’d gone into danger later that year to help Harry protect himself and the school from Voldemort. Every year, more danger. Hermione willingly threw herself in. Even though it would later become clear that fighting in the war was also important to her, and to muggleborns like her, Hermione had fought with one purpose. Protect Harry, protect her friends. She had even sent her parents away to protect them.

            This marriage was different. She didn’t need to marry Severus to fulfill the purpose she had been sent back to do. This was about her. It was selfish. It grated on her after years of doing things only for others. It was about her happiness and her happiness only (well, and she hoped Severus’s). Looking out the window from the bed in the morning, Hermione smiled. In typical fashion, Hermione hadn’t even done it for the reasons others would have. She was so insecure about herself, still felt parts of herself as like a child (of course, when in the last seven years had she been allowed to be one), that Hermione didn’t want to marry him for something as secular as sex or romantic passion. She just loved him and wanted to keep a piece of him with her.

            Severus shifted next to her, and she felt his arm wrap loosely around her waist. “Good morning, wife,” he said, still half-asleep.

            Hermione was partially sat up in the bed and smirked down at him. She greeted him back, running her fingers through his hair. She knew they would take that leap in their relationship, but she was so grateful that he had been respectful about it. They were so similar. Afraid to love, naïve in everything but knowledge, but unwilling to give up what they had found together. Her heart squeezed. For Hermione, she had already experienced the worst parts of the war. The death, the suffering, the fear. For Severus, it was just beginning. For the next two, almost three years, he would have to be a spy for the war, he would have to see things that Hermione didn’t even want to think about. It would change him into the hard man she knew in the future.

            Her husband opened a swollen eye to her. “You’re far away.”

            “I’m right next to you,” she said, amused.

            His hand reached up and tapped her temple. “You’re far away here. You’re worrying about the future.”

            She gave him a sad smile. “You know me too well.”

            “Hermione, I will be alright.” He sat up then and put an arm around her. “Thanks to you. I won’t lie to you and tell you that I’m not scared. I am. But I can do this. You know I survive this part, at least.”

            She pinched his side. “Don’t even joke about that.”

            “I’m sorry. You’re right, but it’s still the truth. You know I will be alright.”

            “But you’ll be so far away,” she murmured, tears burning in her eyes. Hermione buried her head in his chest. How had he dug himself into her so thoroughly? The thought of being without him tore her to pieces. Every step they took, living together at Spinner’s End, becoming a couple, sleeping together in the same room, getting married – it made it worse, because she couldn’t bear the thought of any of that going away.

            His fingers ran through her wild hair that was untamed as a jungle in the morning. “I know. I don’t want to go either.” He didn’t want to tell her how much this apprenticeship scared him, how he might change because of it. “You’ll be so busy with school.”

            She nodded, feeling helpless.

            “You should take Frederick up on his offer to visit him and his family.”

            “Seriously?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

            Severus shrugged. “I know, but he’s the only one we know.” He regretted not making introductions between her and Hagrid. The big man would have been a good friend to her while he was gone, but time had gotten away from them and he knew she cared about him in the future. It was also a risk since Hagrid rarely left the Hogwarts grounds.

            “Thank you.”

            “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

            Hermione kissed him lightly. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you, husband.”

            “Only for you, wife.”

            After Severus brought her breakfast, he convinced her to get dressed and they took a walk along the beach even though cool air blew in from the ocean. They eventually meandered into the small village. It had a few small craft shops, and they soon found themselves with their arms laden with items they planned on putting in their new home. Hermione cried a few tears when it hit her that he might not be there for Christmas or to even see the new place.

            They held onto each other tighter as the day drew on. Their hands growing tighter and their grips against one another fiercer. They had one more night. One more night before they would have to rush back to Spinner’s End and Severus would pack his bag and leave. They ended up most of the afternoon wrapped up in a blanket, cocooned against one another, in front of a raging fire, books in hand that they weren’t really reading.

            When dinner came, they cooked together. They didn’t want to be away from each other for even a second; even though they ended up often more underfoot with one another then being truly helpful. They ate on the couch, pressed firmly against one another. They turned on the small tv that sat in the corner and watched Doctor Who, a show which tickled Hermione since she was a time-traveler herself.

            Soon, night had fallen, and Hermione couldn’t avoid a yawn. Severus carried her once more and for the last time to their cottage bedroom. Both were feeling the apprehension of the next day and romance was far from their minds. They held each other, tight, neither truly sleeping well. Both were afraid to miss even a second.

            Severus wondered when he had become so addicted to her presence. He had never relied on anyone. Once, he had sought comfort from his mother as a child, but even that faded. He loved his mother, but he was far too logical, even at a young age, to not resent her for not protecting him from his father and he pulled away from her, locking himself away in his room or running to the outside so he wouldn’t hear the yelling. Lily had been a good friend or so he believed, but even then, Severus had held her at arm’s length. When she had begun pulling away, Severus had just accepted it as the norm. Everyone betrayed him eventually is what he told himself.

            Hermione was different. It wasn’t that she knew him as well as he did, but it was just her personality. Her willingness to see things through her own logical eyes, but instead of the cold calculations that Severus had always used, her logic was warm and open. She didn’t see his past mistakes as a mark against him. She saw them as simply mistakes, processing the steps that led up to them. She didn’t cast them aside as irrelevant. They were just pieces of a larger whole and she took that into account when assessing him. Every time Severus tried to blame himself Hermione would remind him that things were never that black and white. Other’s choices were just as important as his own. Her righteous anger at others for not seeing the child behind the angry little man warmed him. It was the only time Severus had ever considered the fact that he had just been a child and should have been given kindness instead of judgment.

            Even though they had been long awake, they both watched the sunlight rise through the window until they couldn’t ignore the growing day. Hermione and Severus got up silently and gathered their few belongings, stuffing them into her little beaded bag. They cleaned up the cottage before reluctantly stepping outside and locking the door.

            They apparated home.

            Severus quietly set to work gathering what he would need and Hermione followed him around like a shadow. She didn’t cry; just watched him as he prepared to leave. The construction crew was already at the other house, and they could hear the hum of chatter and tools echoing through. It was a small comfort. They didn’t eat; they didn’t talk much. Both were too afraid that if they did everything would fall apart around them.

            The allotted time came. Severus was to go to the Malfoys and Lucius would take him via portkey to his new master. They stood at the door. Hermione gripped his robes so tight her knuckles were white. Severus’s face was pale, but he had occluded most of his emotions away until his face had regained a stony and familiar look of disregard that Hermione knew all too well. It only broke when he caressed her cheek and kissed her. At first, it was tentative and then became all-consuming like he was a dementor seeking out her soul. When they pulled away, Hermione had tears running down her face. He looked stricken and so pained that she almost didn’t release her hands on him.

            “I love you, Hermione,” he said with every bit of sincerity he had in him.

            Hermione threw her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. “I love you, Severus.”

            Then he was gone. The resounding sound of the door slamming echoed in Hermione’s mind for hours afterward. She would never tell him, but she stood at that door for hours, staring at it, willing him to walk back through. Severus wouldn’t tell her, but he had broken down outside of Malfoy manor, hacking sobs radiating through the landscape. It would be the last time that Severus cried; the boy would be gone after that moment and the man would rise. When they saw each other again, they would both be different.

Chapter Text

“Miss Ranger, this is quite unusual,” the woman in front of her said, tapping the paper in front of her.

            “I don’t see how it’s unusual, at all,” Hermione retorted. “I’ve completed all the work for my bachelors, oh, and my masters. I want my degrees.”

            The woman was in fact the Dean of the college, her black robes were tight around her bulbous body. “But it says here you started school just last fall. I don’t see how—”

            Hermione flicked her wand and the woman’s face went slack. The girl hated doing this, but she couldn’t delay. “All of my coursework has been done, as you can see… the appropriate tests taken. You are quite proud, in fact, Dean Winslow. Your best student. Now, give me the damn degrees.”

            Twenty minutes later, Hermione rolled her documentation up and walked out of the school. Nine months. Nine months without hearing a word from Severus. Nine months of lonely, terrifying nights alone in Spinners End. It had changed Hermione. Without Severus to keep at bay the nightmares of the war, Hermione had spent sleepless nights holding her knees, trying to get the images from her mind. After a week, she did what Hermione did best, she studied. At first, she made an attempt to study all the subjects she was required to take, but the pompous and inflated nature of her liberal arts professors ended up driving her mad and she put a memory charm on them and didn’t return to the classroom. Without worrying about the unnecessary classes, Hermione started working toward her actual degree.

            It became addictive. By Christmas, impatience had settled over her, an urgency. While she had on occasion taken Fredrick up on his offer to visit his family, Hermione was alone most of the time. Unlike before, when she had been in her own time, Hermione didn’t feel displaced, at least not in the same way, she felt a coolness mixed with insatiable need to succeed. It was a power she had only lingered on the outside edges of. She did wonder if this was because of Severus’s influence on her since it mirrored his own experience. Instead of being lost, she was hyper focused, determined.

            The last feeling of hesitancy hit at Christmas. Their new home was finally finished and the contractor handed her the keys; stepping inside was a revelation. It was everything they wanted and more. A home that mixed Severus and Hermione perfectly. Beautiful, stained wood, tall bookshelves, comfortable furniture (perfect for reading), large open windows. It was light and dark, just like them. Hermione initially explored the home with happiness then the loneliness had creeped up on her. He should have been here.

            It only got worse when the holiday hit. Hermione almost didn’t decorate, but Fredrick’s wife, a perky, boisterous woman rivaling her husband, Cordelia, insisted. When Christmas morning came Hermione cried. For the first time, there were no presents at the end of her bed. There was also no Severus. Their first Christmas and they were apart.  Looking at the tree, lit up beautifully, as she sat bundled up in a chair, Hermione became determined. This would be the only Christmas she’d spend alone. Next year, Severus would be with her and for every year afterward.

            Standing, she had pulled out every book over the kitchen table, a plan forming in her mind. Hermione couldn’t do this the long way, not with what she had planned. If she had to stay within the unknown, then she couldn’t play within the rules. Hermione would have to take a page out of her husband’s book and teeter on the edge of darkness. It was easier than she thought it would be to make that decision, but then again, the nightmares had changed her.

            Her fear of what she was going to trying to do, the stress of learning what she needed from the muggle world and then the PTSD from the war gave her crippling dreams. Those lost to the war sought her out like monsters from the dark; their bodies bloody and broken. They’d appear in her room, rising from the shadows, screaming at her to save them, begging and pleading in voices she knew all too well. The worst, by far, was Fred Weasley. His death had rocked the Weasley clan, and it had devastated his twin. George eventually began to talk to others again, but he was never the same. A glimmer had left his eyes, and he couldn’t stand mirrors. Mrs. Weasley removed all of them in her home so he would still visit. Fred’s still body after the battle had broken Hermione’s heart, only worsening when Remus and Tonks were placed next to him.

 And now they haunted her dreams.

            Blood would stream from Fred’s face as he begged her to save him, return him to his brother. His body had been crushed by the wall at the battle and his dream-self crawled along the floor, blood and organs oozing from the open orifices. When she awakened, drenched in a cold sweat and tears running down her face, she would fall to the ground where he had been, trying to make sure it wasn’t real.

            Remus and Tonks would both attack her in her nightmares asking about their son, Teddy. They would look almost normal, except their eyes would be heavy with deep, skeletal circles under their eyes. Their questions though tore her soul into two. They would ask what would happen to Teddy being raised without either of his parents. Then they’d ask the cruelest question of all: how could she let this happen to Teddy, their little precious baby? When they came to her dreams, they would weigh on her that it was her responsibility to save them, or their son would suffer a worse fate than them. Alone, an orphan lost to a tragic war, without the two people who loved him most. Just like Harry. How could she want that for their precious child? Don’t fail us, Hermione, they would say.

            The dreams, the nightmares, had terrified her at first. They had left her so broken that she would cry for Severus, clenching his side of the bed, asking the darkness for him to come home. Hermione began to fear sleep and eventually most nights found her bent over a desk or table pouring over her books or her plans. At Christmas, something clicked inside of her. The moment she had decided to allow a little bit of darkness inside of her. When she went to bed, the nightmares came, but she wasn’t afraid. She talked to them and pulled them into her arms. Hermione promised she would do everything in her power to save them, no matter what it took.

            When she awoke the next morning, a resolve settled in her soul. This had been Dumbledore’s problem. His secrets, his manipulations, his unwillingness to do what was needed to end the war before it had taken too much. She wouldn’t do that. She would save them; Dumbledore be damned. Hermione would save the lost souls of the war, however many she could. And she would do it her way. A muggleborn. A witch. An insufferable swot. A girl of two worlds and a woman of time. She also understood now why she had been connected to Severus. The Dark and the Light. It wasn’t that they were two halves of a coin. They were one. Her light for Severus. His darkness for Hermione. What each gave to the other was going to give them the power to do what was needed.

            Hermione looked at the books on the table and smirked a very Severus smirk. She wouldn’t rely on others for her success. She wouldn’t return to school. Hermione could study faster and better without the professors. Memory spells would earn her the grades she needed; she wouldn’t cheat, but she wasn’t going to waste her time in a classroom with her hand in the air.

            Her studies in the muggle world were crucial to her success. It was the downfall of the wizarding world, their disregard for it and the technologies and science that surpassed even some of the magic. Hermione had been sitting in her empty parent’s home not long after the final battle when that occurred to her. She had flicked the telly on, and it had automatically gone to her father’s favorite channel, a news channel focused on the academic world. They were talking about technologies used in films, holograms and advanced graphics, and about how they were changing the landscape of not only that industry but the medical and scientific communities. Hermione had sat there and wondered how useful that sort of thing would have been during the war. Trickery that was undetectable by wizarding means; better than even see-me-nots and disillusionment spells.

            That was what Hermione was doing.

            Her major was optic physics, the study of light and matter in relation to technology, with a minor of computer graphics. It was a whole different world, but thanks to Severus’s suggestion and her time alone she had taken to it as she had magic. But she wasn’t going to waste her time, not with superfluous subjects, and not with professors who wanted to take the long way around.

            During the holiday, Hermione still had time before she set her new plan in motion, so she did something she hadn’t done in years. She emptied her beaded bag. It had been years since it had been empty, maybe since she first got it. The amount startled her somewhat and it filled the living room. To her surprise though there was something she wasn’t expecting. Daily Prophets. From her time. Almost all the rest of her belongings had been changed to her new identity, but somehow the Daily Prophets were still the same.

            They ranged from their time on the run to right before she had left. At first, she wondered how they would at all be useful to her, then it hit her. Death Eaters. All the ones set after the war had long lists of Death Eaters either captured or on the run. A piece of her plan that she had been trying to work through suddenly clicked into place and a smile spread across her lips. Pulling out her notebook she began to make a list of all the names.

            The quiet of winter eased over Spinner’s End and Hermione worked tirelessly. She would only stop her work when the sound of the construction crews got too loud. The contractor had been surprised when she had them come back for a different project, but she had taken to snapping at him whenever he questioned her and eventually, he seemed to fear her almost as much as he had her husband. Thanks to her, Fredrick was promoted, and he became the main person to whom she spoke to regarding her ‘projects’, much to the chagrin of his boss.

            By the time, summer arrived, and Hermione had left Dean Winslow’s office with her bachelor and master’s degree in hand, the girl had changed into a woman. She missed Severus, like a solid ache that never left, but she had grown up. She had become stronger, more powerful as both a witch and person. She also anxiously awaited the moment Severus came back. Her nightmares had eased over time and had been replaced by dreams of him. He was her anchor. As she teetered on the edges of the darkness she had allowed into herself, he was the light that kept her solid.

Chapter Text

            Severus studied the walls of the dungeon that had been his home for the last nine months. They were as oppressive as ever. No light. No fresh air. The mixture of violent heat from potion-making and the bitter cold of being underground had, at first, messed with his body, causing him to be violently sick his first few weeks at his master’s home. Above him, he could almost hear the din of noise from whatever revel or event his master was holding. His sub-master. Master Maddox, German portioner, violent Dark Arts master, and friend to Severus’s ‘true’ master, Lord Voldemort. It didn’t take long to realize why the Dark Lord had sent him here. Not only to learn his skill, but to hone his darker tendencies.

            Maddox was a crazed, older wizard who practiced freely the dark arts in the more liberal wizarding Soviet Union. He was left to his own devices by the wizarding government and allowed to freely indulge himself in the muggle population. Of course, by indulging, it meant that Maddox could kill, experiment, and rape as he pleased. The times that the Dark Lord had come were numerous and the evil man so ever enjoyed Maddox’s way of thinking. It was almost shocking that in some ways Voldemort was almost more soft in how he dealt with those he opposed, at least compared to Maddox.

            Voldemort enjoyed the violence. Maddox enjoyed the torture, however it was implemented, whether it be through typical physical means, psychological or sexual. Severus shuddered. He had seen things in the last nine months that had turned a part of him to ice; he had almost become used to the evil that Maddox did. He knew that was Riddle’s goal. The man had sensed in Severus a hesitation to fully embrace the darkness so he had sent him to the one man he hoped would destroy that last little bit of light in him.

            Unfortunately, the Dark Lord didn’t know that Severus’s light was outside of him and waiting for him in Spinner’s End. Hermione. Every time the darkness threatened to take hold of him, he only had to touch his wedding band which he had moved to his pinky to push away questions. At times, she almost felt like a dream; something his poor withered mind had created, but then he would go into his mind and float through his memories. Not only of their time together, but when he had been inside her memories. Her moments. Happiness as a child he never had, with parents who loved her and were now lost to her. Her time at Hogwarts with her friends, her struggles and pain.

            It worried him. He hadn’t realized until after he had left that a part of her fear was because of how she was after the war. She had shown him how lost she was, how nightmares had begun to creep into her mind, memories that left her stuck in the past unable to move forward. It took everything he had not to contact her, to see how she was doing alone in that godawful home of his. The only thing that kept him from doing so was knowing that by Christmas she would be in their new home, if that moronic contractor kept to his word.

            At night, when he was finally left alone, Severus would imagine her filling it with books, putting the knick-knacks they had purchased on their honeymoon on shelves, her cooking in the kitchen, her wild hair frizzing because of the heat of a pan. It pained him to think of her there… not only because she was alone, but because he wanted to be there. He wanted to sleep with her in their bed, to wake up to touch the wisps of her hair as they overtook all parts of the pillows, to feel the warmth of her body. He was relieved they hadn’t gone further. The innocence of their relationship had become a beacon after witnessing Maddox’s evil.

            Maddox did teach him potions and he was a very clever man when it came to it. Severus was reminded of Nazi ‘doctors’ in World War II, those who had experimented for the sake of progress, no matter the cost. Maddox seemed born from that sort of thinking. His first night, barely having settled into the small room he was afforded, Maddox had brought him out to the main room. It was mainly empty, except for chains and strange tables and couches over the room. The tables were lower than what would be used for a lab with devices underneath. ‘Tools of the trade’ Maddox had said. Then he had brought out his subjects, that’s what he called them.

            Poor German muggles, unlucky enough to fall on the wrong side of the wall. They were brought out by assistants, young wizards and witches who he employed, and the muggles were chained to the wall. Maddox eagerly took one, a man no more than thirty, and tied him to one of the tables. He then began pouring potions down his throat, writing eagerly in his notebook, as the muggle convulsed and screamed. Maddox was unperturbed, tapping his lip and making little notes. He poured a final potion down the man’s throat and his stomach exploded. Literally. His entire midriff looked as if somebody had placed a small bomb inside of him.

            Maddox had him come over and told him which potions he had used. He wanted Severus to understand what he had done, the combination of potions and to try and figure out which ones caused the most damage and resulted in that final explosive end. Severus was barely able to occlude in time, his stomach twisting and threatening to revolt (luckily, he had not eaten that day), and looked at the dead muggle with disinterest.

            His new master demanded that he use as many muggles as he wished to ascertain the solution. Then he promised that a week from now, Severus would be able to enjoy some real creative solutions. The revels. Godric and Salazar combined; Severus hated Maddox. He spent the day trying to avoid killing anyone else, but by the time Maddox had released him to sleep, two of the muggles had died at his hands, but he had discovered the solution. These ‘experiments’ pushed Severus to become a better potioneer, if only to avoid the severe loss of life.

            The revelry was worse than Severus could have ever imagined. Friends of Maddox arrived, filling the main room, laughing and chatting. Then the muggles had been brought out. Women and men, sometimes even children. Torture, rapes and experiments were conducted like it was nothing more than a garden party. The muggles’ screams echoed in the great room, just barely over the din of laughter and chatter from the wizards and witches. Severus knew that Voldemort had been evil, had done and would do unspeakable things, but it was the cold realization that it could have been much worse.

            Maddox tried to have him indulge, but Severus politely refused. He told the man that he was here to study and not to enjoy himself. His explanation barely worked. Severus told him that his interest lay in the Dark Arts to serve the Dark Lord and that he didn’t want distractions. Maddox had sneered at that, then demanded that at the very least, Severus watch. For research. How better to find out how to break someone?

            Luck was on his side, though. Riddle would visit Maddox, but often it was outside of the revelries. The Dark Lord didn’t like to share his time with others and to his relief Riddle had agreed that if Severus wanted to focus on the Dark Arts then that would be fine. He did demand, with an evil glint in his eye, that Severus attend at least one revelry a month. For research. That was their byword, their means of explaining the evil in their hearts, the methods for which they used.

            So, Severus lived for nine months.

            He served Maddox, killed for him at the experiment tables when he absolutely couldn’t avoid it and watched once a month as evil lived out its horrible games. The screams would haunt him, the dead look in the eyes of the victims following him, and the blood seemed stained to his hands. Severus felt himself break so many times as weeks followed into months. He couldn’t even risk tears or showing any emotion of any kind for fear of showing his true hand. It was only Hermione, his light in this darkness, that got him through it.

            Severus wondered how he had done this the first time, without her. Would he have indulged in these revelries without the light of her? Would he have tortured happily these poor souls for the sake of research? Those thoughts would creep up, binding himself to his bed as well as any rope, paralyzing himself with dread. He would think of the way he looked in Hermione’s memories. A man aged beyond his years, able to hide behind his occlusion, so easily able to be a spy to the Dark Lord. The anger.

Yes, Severus realized one night. It was the anger behind his movements. The way he flew into a room, his voice barely able to hide the wrath behind them, the way he spoke to the students with his bitter mirth. Severus of the future had used his anger to hide his true emotions. The guilt, the suffering, the pain. Anger and hate. They were powerful emotions, more powerful than anything else, besides love. That is how the old, future Severus survived.

But he was not that man.

Severus had something now that meant more than all the darkness of the world combined. His wife. His beloved Hermione. She had awakened a light within him, a silver purity that squashed everything in its path. No one had a hold of him anymore. Not Maddox, not Lucius, not Dumbledore (when that time would inevitably come), and not the Dark Lord. That light that grew inside of him, because of her beautiful love, made him a man.

He did grow up in that time. The boy in him had been lost that first night, drenched in the blood of innocent people and the man was born. Severus had found a strength more powerful than any Dark Art. He still used that darkness, of course, it was a tool, after all, and one he would need for the coming years, but he was no longer bound to it. If he had been allowed a mirror he could have seen the way his face changed. The round, softness of youth was gone, and his face became sharper and more refined. The way in which he held himself was more assured and certain. This was the man of the future whose secrets were limitless. Black eyes scrutinizing every movement, an unreadable face of superior intellect, an aura of power.

It was because of that Maddox reluctantly gave him his Mastery in potions three months earlier than the year in which he had been allotted. The news was sent to the Dark Lord who sent back in owl expressing his approval and asked for Severus to return to Britian. Maddox, of course, wanted his final say and told Severus under no uncertain terms that he would be attending his final revelry.

Severus wore his finest black robes, looking out over the crowd, with disdain, when Maddox had come upon him. The older man dragged him to the center of the room where three muggles, a family, were bound on their knees to the floor. The child, a little girl, no more than eight years old tried desperately to get to her parents so they could hold her, but her chains were too tight against the ground.

“Your present, Master Snape. It is at my insistence,” Maddox said, a nasty grin on his face. “You may have all of them or just one. Of course, if you don’t choose the child, let me know.” His hand reached out and he curled a long, blond strand of hair in his fingertips. “I love them at this age, so tight—”

The nonverbal Septum Sempra lashed out with such voracity that for a moment Maddox froze, then his body, in several pieces, fell to the ground in a wet splash. The muggle family screamed in terror. Severus frowned down at Maddox. A mixture of rage and disgust. For a moment, the room went silent. He didn’t hesitate. Spell after spell was cast, death curses, and other more violent spells were cast until the room was empty except for the dead and the muggles. A few had escaped, but Severus didn’t bother with them. He untied the muggles and released them, wishing they weren’t having to return to the horrible life that awaited them under the muggle Soviet Union, but he could only do so much.

He gathered his belongings and found the portkey that Riddle had sent on Maddox’s desk. Severus was whooshed to a different estate this time, though the result was still the same. Lucius looked at him in surprise and Severus realized he was covered in blood. He shrugged and walked up to the Dark Lord who was looking at him in interest.

“So, Severus, you have returned. Maddox sang your praises at the end.” His words slightly rose when he said the last and Severus expected the Dark Lord knew what he had done.

Snape rose himself up, unafraid. “Yes, at the end, he was very proud.”

Voldemort chuckled. “And yet, you killed him and others by the state of your clothes.”

“He held himself in too high a regard.”

“Oh, I agree, young Severus. I agree. Maddox’s methods were interesting, but he was becoming lost in his experiments. We must always remember our superior nature.” Riddle said this to the crowd who were listening intently. “Our destiny, while traversing the seedier sides, must always be the greater good of our race. We must not demean ourselves in any way with muggles, something Maddox had forgotten. Purity must be held at all costs!” Severus inwardly chuckled. Riddle’s mother had doted on a young muggle that would become his father, via a powerful love potion. Hermione had told him how that had disgusted the man before him. No wonder he hated the revelries.

The crowd roared with approval.

“Master Severus,” the Dark Lord oozed. “Now that you have returned, what are your plans?”

Snape bowed low, his eyes staying steady on the Dark Lord. “I have not presumed to plan, my Dark Lord. It is at your will that I serve.”

“Yes, your time away has done you well. Gone is that pride. A faithful servant. Go home for now, young Severus, and await your bright future.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”

He swept from the room, his robes billowing out behind him. Ignoring the glaring eyes of Death Eaters jealous of him. Fools. If only they knew.

Chapter Text

            Severus apparated to Spinner’s End almost immediately. Lucius had caught him on the way out, confused, but Severus had pushed his way out. He didn’t have time for the word games of his former ally. Severus needed to see Hermione. It burned in him, just as much as an irate panic did. He hadn’t seen her in so long and while he was sure she still loved him; it couldn’t have been easy on her all this time. Severus stepped into an alley and cleaned the worst of the blood off of him with a vanishing spell. To his shock, Fredrick Barnes was there to meet him, a boy about ten at his side.

            “’Allo, Mister Ranger.”

            Severus frowned. It couldn’t have been more than six in the morning at Cokesworth. “Fredrick. What are you doing here?”

            “Live here, don’t I?” Fredrick beamed, then he laughed, the sound echoing strangely down the street. “I mean, no’ here, here. O’r there.” He waved toward the end of the street and Severus could see some lights on, shadows moving past the windows.

            “Since when?”

            “Ah, well, that wou’ be ‘bout three months, now, right, Rob?” He looked down at the boy who nodded. “Right on, Mister Ranger, you ‘aven’t met my eldest, Robert. ‘e likes to ‘elp me set up for the crews.”

            Severus frowned. “Crews? Do not tell me that crook hasn’t finished yet.”

            Fredrick laughed. “No, no. Tha’ go’ done, a’right. Your wife, though, real entrepreneur, she is. ‘alf ‘the ‘ouses on the block been redone. I used to wonder ‘ow you two got on, but she’s right scary, ‘erself, innit she, Rob.”

            Rob shrugged. “Not to us. She’s nice to us.”

            “Aye, you are right, ‘bout that. Missus Ranger saved us, ne’er could ever hope to thank her.”

            “Saved you,” Severus said. “You don’t mean—”

            “Haha, no, sir. No’ that. Been visitin’, saw how we was livin’, and ren’vated tha’ house, jus’ for us.” Fredrick looked down sheepishly. “I wa’ tryin’, ya’ know. It’s jus’ hard these days, providin’ for five kids, six in a few months. She even got me promoted.”

            Severus pulled his fingers through his hair. All he wanted to do was to get to Hermione, but this new information had a headache forming in his head. “Fredrick, if you don’t mind,” he said, using as much politeness he could muster. “I’m tired. I would like to go home.”

            “Ah, well, yeah, o’ course. I knew that. That’s why I’m here. Ya’ house is spelled and I’ll have to let ya in.”

            “Spelled?” Then it hit him. Muggle Fredrick. “How do you even know about such things?”

            Fredrick kicked his foot against the ground. “I mean, I knew well ‘nough that y’ two were somethin’ special, but Missus Ranger explained everything. I’m the Secret Keeper and the guard of Spinner’s End, I am.”

            A muggle Secret Keeper? Severus breathed out, then he almost laughed. It was genius. No one would ever suspect some lowly muggle to be a part of such advanced magic. He followed Fredrick to his old home and the man waved a card in front of the door. Severus saw magic ripple over it and the door opened.

            His home had been transformed to look like its future self from Hermione’s memories. Fredrick explained Hermione had him do it when they were putting in the secret entrance since it all played together. Severus didn’t quite understand until they came to a tall bookshelf. Fredrick slid it over and a gust of cool air blew through the dark hole that opened up.

            Fredrick turned to him. “A’ight, Mister Ranger. I’ll let you go ‘ome now. It’s good that ye’ are, jus’ to see yer lil wife smile ‘gain, like she used to.”

            Severus nodded, numbly. Smile? Had things really been so bad? His heart ached as he stepped down into the tunnel. It took him three steps down, five steps across and another three steps up, before he opened the door to his new home.

            Hermione opened her eyes, the light filtering through her window. She’d forgotten to close it again. Cursing, she rolled over and buried her head under the pillow only to fight a losing battle with her hair that was now suffocating her. Lifting her head, she looked at the clock. Six in the morning. Too early. Groaning, she rolled out of bed and glared at the impeding light that seemed so happy to blind her.

            Stomping down the stairs, Hermione turned into the living room and stumbled to her knees at the sight in front of her.

            Severus.

            Her heart jumped. He was different, fuller, older. He looked more like her future Severus Snape than ever before. His eyes fell on her, dark, black eyes and he raised an eyebrow at her. Her face flushed. She didn’t know what to say. He’d been gone longer than they had been together. She blinked furiously to stop the burning in her eyes.

            He walked to her, his black robes causing him to loom like some dark specter. Severus crouched in front of her. “Hello, wife.”

            Tears rolled down her cheeks as she all but screeched, “Severus!” and threw her arms around his neck, knocking him backward. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight against him. He was everything she had remembered, but better, so much better. His body felt wider, muscled, but still so soft against him. His scent radiated off of him and it felt like the smell of home. She all but straddled him as Severus leaned back on the hardwood.

            A bemused grin spread across his face. “Apparently, you haven’t stopped trying to fall on me.”

            Hermione breathed out, taking everything in. The cut of his hair, the angles of his face. “Always,” she said. Her fingers gripped his robes. She almost thought she might begin to hyperventilate.

            His hand reached out and cupped her cheek. “God, I missed you.”

            She wept and lowered herself until she could kiss him tentatively. Her lips ghosted over his as if she were almost afraid. She wasn’t even sure what about. Time. Changes. None of it mattered though. Severus kissed her hungrily back and it was as if the past nine months had never happened. It was all so familiar. His taste, the feel of his lips, his tongue as it sought entrance to her mouth. He sat them up, his lips never leaving hers, and she felt her body react to him, at their closeness. Hermione felt herself shifting in a way that seemed almost animalistic, pressing her lower half into him, and she felt herself heat in a mixture of shame and desire.

            Hermione pulled back, gasping for breath, and realized that somehow his arms had ended up in her shirt, caressing her back. The eyes that stared back at her were set with awe and love. Severus dug himself into her chest, his fingers achingly passing from her shoulders to her hips. “This can’t be real,” Severus murmured. “Merlin, something this wonderful.” He seemed to almost be speaking to himself.

            Hermione drew her fingers through his hair. The heat between them was slowly passing, but it felt like it could rise again at any moment. It scared her how much she wanted him when she had been so worried before. It felt like a lifetime when she had been afraid to be intimate with him. Their bodies pressed together, sent waves of something unknown through her, something that after these nine months, she thoroughly wanted to explore.

            Severus finally drew back and kissed her again. That desire rose up again, and she had to yank his head back. He gave her a look of confusion and she couldn’t help but laugh. “We need to stop,” she said, her cheeks beginning to burn. “Or I’ll take you on this floor, right now.”

            He smiled cheekily. “Not the worst welcome in the world. But I understand.” He groaned and bodily deposited her off him, she squeaked in protest. “What the wife wants, she gets.” Severus drew himself up, crouched over her and pressed his lips against hers. She surprised herself by moaning slightly and he gave her a confused but happy grin. “Although, I’m not sure you are being honest with yourself, Miss Granger.”

            Her name, spoken like that, as if he were her professor still (or not yet?), sent shockwaves through her body. “Really,” she gasped at him.

            He shrugged and stood, pulling her up with him. “I’ve revisited the idea of being your professor. I’m finding I quite like the idea of being over you, teaching you. You in a Hogwarts uniform.”

            Hermione crossed her arms, shaking her head, and smiling. “My god, you’ve come back a lecher.”

            “Can you be a lecher when your thoughts are toward your wife that you haven’t seen in nine months?”

            “I don’t know,” her voice suddenly soft. Her heart all of the sudden ached so horribly that she reached out and wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt his arms curl around her and she sighed. “Please, don’t leave again.”

            “I won’t,” he assured her, his voice almost a whisper. “I won’t.”

            They stood there like that for a while; their breathing matched as they acquainted themselves with each other. The smells, the warmth of their bodies, the swell of their breathing.

            When they finally pulled away, Severus wiped a few tears from her face. “Want to show me our home?”

            Hermione’s face lit up. She took his hand, showing him each room. He spent the longest in the kitchen, feeling along the dark green tile he had chosen for the backsplash, the black counter, and dark wooden cabinets, before admitting they had done an alright job. Then she took him upstairs, showing him each room. One was their study. Bookshelves lined every wall, and a long desk filled one half as a couple comfortable chairs filled the other. Two of the rooms were still empty, ready for whatever they chose. They both ignored the unspoken question between them, their cheeks turning red. She then showed him their room. A beautiful master bedroom with its own bathroom. She had decorated the room in a mixture of dark green and maroon.

            “It looks a bit like Christmas,” Severus noted.

            Hermione chewed on her lip. “Yeah, I realized that after I finished. I just wanted to combine Slytherin and Gryffindor. I wasn’t even thinking that it would look so… holiday. Do you hate it?”

            Severus squeezed her hand. “It’s perfect. Every day we wake up next to each other will be our gift to one another.”

            “You’re going soft,” Hermione laughed.

            “And you’re turning mean if Fredrick is to be believed.”

            “Oh, please. You have one little outburst and suddenly you’re the big bad wolf.”

            Severus smirked. “I believe I said last year that you were turning more like me.”

            Hermione’s face fell a bit. “We should talk about our time… when we were apart.”

            “We will,” he responded. “Not tonight. Maybe not for a few days. I’d rather we enjoy this time together without the weight of everything.”

            “You’ve grown up so much. When I first saw you, I thought you were you from the future.” Hermione touched her fingers to his face. “I thought I was dreaming.”

            “You dream of me as an older man?”

            Hermione looked down, embarrassed. “Sometimes. I mean, for me, it’s all you. Every part.”

            “No, no,” he drawled. “I see how it is. You want the Professor Snape of your time. And you called me a lecher.”

            “I do not! Severus, stop! I mean it.” Hermione stepped back. She tried to make her voice sound harsh, but she couldn’t stop the smile on her face as he menacingly walked toward her, throwing his robes back.

            “Miss Granger,” he told her, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I am very disappointed in you. I think you’ll need to serve detention.”

            Her legs hit the back of the bed, and she sat down, looking up at him with wide eyes. “And what is my punishment, Professor Snape?”

            He leaned over her, a knee resting on the bed as he loomed over her. His hand rested on the back of her neck. “A lifetime with me.”

            Her breath came out shakily. “That’s not a punishment, my love.”

Chapter Text

His lips crashed down on hers and they rolled together onto the bed. The feeling was back, and her body tingled in response to him. So much time they had missed, yet it was like nothing at all. Not even a moment really. Nothing had changed between them. If anything, Hermione loved him more; it was almost painful, like an ache inside her stomach. A flower that bloomed inside of her every time he was near. And he had changed so much, physically. She had been attracted to him before, but now it was something else. The man with the steely glint to his eye, the hardness of his jaw. She hadn’t been able to stop staring, to have a reason to touch him.

            Hermione wasn’t sure how it had happened, but they were laying the right way across the bed, her hair billowing out over the pillow. Light streamed across the room; pieces of dust were sprinkled in the air like little diamonds. Her fingers were pushing his robes off and his own were under her shirt once more caressing the bare skin. The offending clothing was removed, and Severus took a shark intake of breath seeing her. Her cheeks warmed and she could barely stand looking at him in the eye, there was such a look of awe in them.

            His lips ghosted over her clavicle, and he squeezed her side with his hands that seemed to encompass so much of her small waist. Severus never pushed. Every movement was carefully done so he didn’t take her past what she was willing to give him, and Hermione knew, despite his own arousal toward her, he would never take it further than she indicated. A feeling of being safe fluttered through her stomach, spreading through her body. Tension eased in her shoulders that she didn’t realize she had been holding. Hermione’s insecurities began to fade. She was home.

            When she began to unbutton his own vest, Severus pulled back, giving her a look as if asking her if she was sure and Hermione stared determinedly at his chest, chewing on her lip as she tugged it off. Pushing him off her, so he was laying on his back, Hermione straddled him and began unbuttoning his shirt.

            Severus let out a shaky breath that he tried to pass off as a chuckle. His voice shook slightly. “Now, Miss Granger, I don’t think you should your professor in such undress.”

            Hermione almost felt the heat that flared off her face. “Shut up, you.” But she smiled. He knew he was trying to make this situation more comfortable for the both of them.

            “Yes, wife,” Severus said, his hands rubbing against her pajama-laden thighs.

            She was sure he meant it to be another way of making her feel less uncomfortable and instead it sent waves of that emotion, desire. Seeing his bare chest was a revelation, and her hands traced along the thin outlines of muscles across his pale skin in wonder. He sat up, mimicking their position earlier that morning on the floor, and he shrugged off the shirt. For the first time, she saw his Dark Mark, and shame crossed his face. He tried to wrap his arm around her so she wouldn’t see it, but she shoved him back down.

            Her fingers pressed against it, and he leaned back in the pillow, closing his eyes. “I love all of you,” she said quietly and reassuringly.

            When he didn’t open his eyes, Hermione lowered herself and began peppering his chest with kisses. His hands instinctively reached up to grab her shoulders and his chest heaved with emotion. As she did, for the first time, she felt him; that part of him. A year ago, it would have terrified her, but now, it only served to increase the desire swirling inside of her. Her kisses moved up until she was nibbling at his neck and his body bucked so slightly against her, his shaking hands falling to her waist. She knew him so well; knew that he was trying to stop himself from pushing himself into her. A master of restraint. Hermione definitely wasn’t. She pushed down hard against him, trying to indicate exactly how much she wanted him too and Severus gasped.

            His eyes opened, staring at the ceiling, as her lips traced against his jawline and finally back to his lips. Between their impassioned kisses and their movement against one another they were soon panting, hot breaths growing faster.

            “Hermione,” he whispered. “I can’t… hold on. We should—”

            Hermione lifted her head. Her lips quivered. “Sev, shut up.”

            A smile flickered across his lips as his brow furrowed in amusement. “Yes, wife,” he echoed.

            His fingers found the edge of her pajamas and she almost collapsed against him when fingers tugged at them. Her desire felt so apparent to her now, palpable against his own. In response, she laid partially against him, so their bare upper halves were laying against one another. It was the most wonderful feeling Hermione had every felt and she felt him shudder in response, knowing he felt the same way. She allowed her own hand to fall until it was at his belt buckle and her fingers worked gingerly to loosen it.

            A hand gripped the back of her neck as she worked. It felt as if he was holding onto her for dear life. His belt unbuckled, her hand fumbled against his pants, and he jerked. “Her… Hermione, please,” he murmured against her lips. She felt him try to push her back, always so careful of her limits.

            She obeyed, but only so that she could crouch at his legs. Hermione glared sternly at him, daring him to stop her. She could see the panic and desire in his eyes. His arms flared out and gripped the comforter. His eyes closed again, and a small smile flittered at her lips. Feeling her own waves of panic, she reached back and pulled his shoes and socks off. Then she turned back to her husband. His chest was rising up and down with heavy breaths. Hermione tugged at his pants, and he jutted his hips up, pulling them slowly over his hips. Her cheeks heated up when she saw him bare, all of him. Using her remaining Gryffindor bravery, she pulled them off.

            “Come here,” he begged. She obeyed, falling into his arms, and he pulled the covers over them. His hand cupped her cheek, his black eyes searching. “Are you… are you really sure?” His voice hitched as he spoke.

            Hermione felt the smooth of his back in her grasp of him. “I want this. I want you, Sev. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

            The look in his eyes, pure love and hope, made Hermione sure she had said the right thing. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, he had any doubt that she was attracted to him. Her heart panged at the thought of how his life before her had been. Her lonely and broken husband. Well, Hermione thought she would have their entire lives to make sure he never felt unloved and unwanted again.

            Severus shifted under the covers, so he was partially on top of her. Getting one more confirming look from her, he pulled her bottoms off. Hermione covered her face with her hands, relieved to have the blanket covering her, but knew that he still would see. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on her and her heart pounded in her chest. Apprehension and anticipation filling every part of her.

            He tossed her bottoms to the side of the bed and lowered himself over her. Hermione trembled as Severus shifted, guiding her legs apart so he was between her. He kissed her softly and she lifted her legs so they were partially wrapped around him and his body was against her. When she felt that part of him against her, she froze for a moment and felt him hesitate. Cursing her own inadequacies, Hermione deepened the kiss and Severus relaxed slightly. When he pressed inside of her it was nothing and everything like she imagined. Her pleasure had been wonderful so far, but she knew that this was more about him now, especially for a first time.

            Severus moved slowly and tentatively. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that she was going to be one of the lucky ones who didn’t have pain their first time. He shifted his body, and he brushed against her more sensitive spot, sending shivers down her spine. Always attentive, Severus kept the movement up and Hermione grabbed his hair at his scalp. He followed her movements, careful and watchful, as he guided her into complete ecstasy. She gasped when it came, increased by him inside of her, her body tensing for a moment and relaxing almost simultaneously.

            He moved faster then and Hermione felt like her stomach was going to explode in happiness. Severus came a moment later, his body mimicking hers, but as he did, he deepened their kiss and Hermione felt for one moment like they had become one. Their bodies pressed firmly together. She didn’t realize how hot it had become between them until he slowly shifted off of her to lay beside her and cool air flittered across their sweaty skin. Severus wrapped her up in his arms, making sure the blanket was firmly around her.

            Hermione stared blankly at the wall, her mind always working, she analyzed her thoughts and feelings. This was not how she thought today was going to go. In her head, they were still the people they had been when Severus left. That was naïve. She had changed and so had he. Hermione had never imagined though how passionate she was going to be when she saw him; it was like everything bottled up for the last nine months had exploded out of her. Every moment she missed him, every time she ruminated on their memories, and even those times at night when her mind had thought of this moment. Was she happy? Was she glad that it happened? Hermione bit her lip and pressed her head into his shoulder; his scent enveloping her. Yes, she was happy. As with everything when it came to them, she was happy this had happened.

            She looked up at her husband, who seemed to be doing the same as she was; he smiled down at her when he noticed her. “Yes, wife?”

            “I’m so glad your home, you know that?”

            His arm tightened. “I couldn’t tell,” he said with a smirk.

            Hermione pinched his chest. “Like you didn’t want to, as well.”

            “Well, if you want to go by men less evolved as me, my species rarely thinks of anything else.”

            “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. You are more evolved, though.” Hermione tried to keep her expression serious but found her lips twitching. When was the last time she felt this happy?

            “Of course. My superior intellect is one of the reasons you love me, is it not?”

            Hermione nodded, seriously, lifting herself slightly so she could look at him better. “Definitely. I love all your flaws, dear.”

            Severus laughed. “That was very good, wife. Is it horrible if I love how vicious you are?”

            “Considering this last year, mark me relieved,” she said honestly.

            He caressed her hair. “Whatever happened, you know it doesn’t change anything, right?”

            Her eyes lowered. “I know. I suppose that’s one reason I didn’t want to wait. If I let myself think about it, I’d probably talk myself out of it.”

            “Hermione Granger think too much?” He smirked down at her. “I can’t believe it.”

            “Oh, shut it, you. You’d do the same.”

            “It’s a good thing then my wife is a far bigger lecher than I am.”

            Hermione blushed. “You’re horrible.”

            “I just wish I had known how to get you back then. Who knew that the swot would have a thing for her professor? I suppose, when you think about it, it does make sense.”

            “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” She grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his face. She tentatively crawled out of bed, still mostly naked except for her bra. His shirt was closest, and Hermione pulled it on, heading to the bathroom.

            His eyes watched her. “I think I found my new favorite outfit for you.”

            “Lech,” she teased as she disappeared into the bathroom.

            Hermione cleaned up a bit before heading back to the bedroom. Severus was in the middle of pulling on his boxers under the covers and smiled apologetically at her. She shook her head, looking about the room. Their clothes were everywhere. Hermione quickly gathered a few of the articles and threw them over the chair in the corner, before she picked up his boots.

            She frowned down at them. Something was splattered across the black surface. “Severus, is this blood?”

            His face paled. “I can explain.”

Chapter Text

            “I can explain,” Severus said, and he could.

            Hermione lifted her hand. “I have a feeling I’m going to want to be dressed for this and quite frankly, I’m hungry.” She grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, coming out dressed. “I’ll get started on breakfast if you want to take a shower. Based on your shoes I’m figuring you might need it.”

            Severus swallowed hard. “Hermione, are you angry?”

            She smiled, sadly. “No. We knew something like this would happen, I just don’t think I can hear about it with an empty stomach and no coffee in my system.” Hermione crossed the room and gently kissed him. “I’ll be downstairs.”

            He watched her go. So much for waiting a few days, but he knew that was unrealistic. Nine months. It was a long time apart for both of them. The only thing so far that had been a surprise was them being together. He had spent the entire time in a panic, sure that he was crossing some line that he shouldn’t, but Hermione seemed to want him just as much as he wanted her. It surprised him. Yet, at the same time, Fredrick’s comments earlier somewhat forewarned him. She had been through her own journey and had changed. They weren’t the same people they had been.

            When he saw her that morning, it had been a shock. In some ways, she was the same. The same bushy hair, the small frame, and wide, inquisitive eyes. Other things though were easier to pick up. Her face had become leaner, either due to not eating or worry, her body thinner, yet when they were making love, he could feel muscles that were harder than they had been. She was paler as if she hadn’t spent much time outside. Her eyes though said the most. They had always held a weight, but they had grown darker, and he could see a hardness that startled him.

            As he drifted into the shower, thoroughly scrubbing himself of his time with Master Maddox, Severus’s mind wandered to their moment. It was like a dream. He couldn’t believe they had taken that step. The time he was gone, it was that bright innocence of their relationship that had kept him threaded to the light. How easily had they run through those walls that had seemed so immense before. He wasn’t sure what to think of that step. It felt right, yet strange. How could their love still be so perfect and balanced even after their separation? Time had passed, things had changed, they had both grown, and yet, their love for each other was as solid as the day he had left.

            Drying off, Severus walked into the bedroom and explored the closet and dresser. There, in each area, on the right-hand side were his things. She must have brought it over from his childhood home, carefully folded and placed. Severus hoped that she was alright; that she didn’t regret this step. Or worse, would hate him for what he had to do under Maddox and had done, just that previous evening. It worried him how little guilt he felt for slaughtering those wizards and witches. Had he become a monster, after all, and would Hermione still love him if he had?

            He walked down the steps and breathed in the scent of the new home. It seemed to permeate with an apple pie scent, like something from a candle or potpourri; his hands lingered on the downstairs bookshelf which held the bulk of their honeymoon knick-knacks. Severus often thought of them. His life had always been so empty and bereft of simple happiness that he had never really decorated his bedroom. Even if he had, his father would have destroyed it. At school, the Slytherins would have bullied him for bringing any creature comforts; the mostly wealthy students would never have found anything he brought to be good enough for their noble house. These little items, nothing more than trinkets, were reminders that he was allowed to be happy, allowed to have a home.

            Hermione was moving about the kitchen, busily flipping one thing or plating another; she didn’t notice him come in. Their kitchen table sat on the other side of the room, and he sat down quietly, determined to watch her as long as he could before she noticed him. Severus had missed her so much. Their banter, their long discussions, their cuddling. From the big and small things, Hermione filled his life with immeasurable warmth. He never knew that just reading alongside her, a blanket cast over their joint legs, and a fire roaring in front of them could make him so happy, yet that was his favorite memory.

            When her eyes caught hold of him, she smiled sheepishly. “So, I might have gotten slightly out of hand.”

            Hermione brought over several plates. Biscuits, eggs, baked beans, potatoes, pancakes, toast, bacon, sausages and finally a large vat of coffee.

            “Good Godric, woman, did you think I was starved?”

            She sat down and chuckled. “There would probably have been more, but I wasn’t expecting you for another three months.”

            “I finished early. It was worth it if it got me back sooner; I’m fairly certain that Master Maddox wanted me to stay longer, years if he had any say about it.”

            “Maddox, that was your potion master?”

            He nodded, grimacing. “Believe it or not, Hermione, he was worse than Voldemort.”

            Hermione swallowed hard. “God. Okay, no talking about evildoers until after we eat.”

            Severus chuckled. “Agreed.” He forked some pancakes until his plate. “So, wife, how about we discuss what just happened?”

            She choked, mid-sip into her coffee, and blushed furiously. “Severus Snape, I swear on Helga Hufflepuff’s broad rear, you keep your mouth shut.”

            “And why on earth, would I do that? Ashamed of taking advantage of this poor innocent young boy?”

            She threw a roll at his head. “Take advantage? I was a virgin too, you sadistic bastard.”

            “Granted,” he smirked. “But you can’t deny that you were the leader of that expedition.”

            Her cheeks flamed. “I just missed you,” she argued, hotly. “Nine months is a long time. And we’re married, for heaven’s sake. It’s not like it’s some massive shock.”

            “It is when you get attacked all of twenty minutes after you’ve walked through the door. My last bit of childish innocence gone just like that. Barely a greeting of hello.”

            Hermione buried her head in her hands. “You started it.”

            Severus guffawed. “And how did you come to that conclusion, beloved wife?”

            “Teasing me about being my professor.”

            An evil glint glittered in his eyes. “Yet, if it wasn’t a turn-on for you as well it wouldn’t have worked, now, would it?”

            “Oh, Godric,” Hermione breathed, realization sucking through her. A strangled laugh passed her lips. “Your right. You are actually right.”

            “I always am,” Severus said with a smug smile. “We are both clearly deeply disturbed individuals.”

            Hermione giggled. “I’m suddenly so happy that no one knows me in this time, if Harry or Ron or even Ginny knew that, I would die.”

            He leaned on his hand, his elbow on the table. “Do you think you’ve hidden some deep-seated crush for me all this time, I mean, when I was your Professor Snape of the future?”

            “No,” she denied, hastily, then bit her lip. “I don’t think so. I never really had time to think about that sort of thing fighting for my life all the time. I guess, I could have. I always respected you, even though you were so harsh. I mean, out of all the professors, even McGonagall you were always the most constant. I certainly respected your maturity and vast knowledge, even more so when I learned the truth.”

            Snape took a bite of some of his food. “Is it weird knowing that you are going to have a front row seat to all of it now?”

            “A little. It’s also a relief, especially if our plan works the way I’m hoping it will. There was always so many unanswered questions about the war, about the lead-up, about all the crap that Dumbledore kept from us, that I’m glad I’ll finally have some answers.”

            “The insufferable know-it-all strikes again,” he teased. “The great Hermione Granger had to travel through time to ensure the gaps in her immense intellect were filled.”

            “Shut up, husband.”

            “Yes, wife.”

            The morning spread out over them and afternoon came before they had even put away the dishes for breakfast. They sat down at the table and cradled tea in their hands as the conversation began. Severus started. He told her everything, not leaving any detail out; her hands clutched tightly when he went over the gory moments. The people he was forced to kill, the things he had to watch. Then he told her of how he had killed Master Maddox and the others, saving the muggles from their fates worse than death; not that many would have survived the night.

            Hermione stared at the table; her eyes hyper-focused. Severus waited in dread. It sounded so much worse once he said it. It had been his life for nine months; he had time to think and occlude. She sighed and looked at him, her amber eyes dark. “I’m glad you killed him.”

            He raised an eyebrow. “Glad?”

            She fiddled with her teacup. “I’ve told you before and you’ve seen in my memories, the Order of the Phoenix could have done so much more, but we were always, always, on the defensive, waiting for Voldemort to make his move. Even the Final Battle. Harry, Ron and I had to rush to Hogwarts to warn them, because, as always, the Order was waiting for someone to tell them what to do. It was only because of us that the war even ended, because we did what no one else was willing to do. We couldn’t even trust the Order with our mission, because they would have tried to stop us. This Maddox man was evil. You stopped him and the number of lives you’ve saved because of it – I can’t even imagine, Severus. So, yes, I’m glad.”

            Severus breathed out. “I’m relieved you think that. I haven’t known how to deal with the fact that I don’t have any guilt about it.”

            Hermione reached with her hand and took his. “Sev, you aren’t a monster. He was. Killing him – it just means that you know what was right and that such horrors shouldn’t be allowed to continue. When I think of how they just let Dolores Umbridge, that awful, horrid woman, go without so much as a slap on the wrist, I feel sick. It wasn’t until after the war that she was sentenced to Azkaban and it felt like too little, too late.” Until the phoenix purged her of her scars, she still had the marks on the back of her hand from the few detentions she received, which was nothing compared to Harry.

            “Hermione—”

            “Shush. Honestly, I can’t even compare what you went through the last nine months. Maybe that’s why I made it so hard on myself.” Then she told him about her time. About pushing through her schooling, the memory charms on her professors, the nightmares, and finally about the part of her plan that she had only recently put into effect.

            Severus leaned back. “So, the list of death eaters. What do you plan on using that information for?”

            Hermione pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “Nothing, not until you got back, but I had a slight change of plans. You should follow me.”

            He frowned, worried, but obeyed. He walked with her out of their house and to one of the Spinner’s End homes on the other side of the street. The inside had not been renovated, at least not completely. Hermione opened a door that went into a basement. Fluorescent lights blinked overhead over a white tile floor. Two hospital beds were up against the far end.

            “Hermione, who the hell are they?”

            In the beds were two men connected to machines; they were asleep. Death Eater robes were hanging from a coat hangar in the middle of them.

            She glanced at him, guiltily. “Meet Marv Dockson and Frisch Lamour. Death Eaters, inconsistent, unreliable, and generally forgettable individuals.”

            “And why are they here,” Severus said, his tone flat, as he observed them.

            “So, you know that part of my plan where I save people who shouldn’t have died?”

            He gave her a long look.

            “They are how I’m going to do it. Marv and Frisch are step one.”

            Severus pulled his fingers through his black hair. “Explain, now.”

            Hermione took a deep breath. “When I found the names of the Death Eaters, I realized what I could use it for. Any Death Eaters not on those lists are part of the Unknown, meaning they shouldn’t affect the timeline if they were to just disappear. At first, I just wanted to make sure I was right. I wasn’t going to do anything, but when I went to Knockturn Alley they got a little handsy and I stupefied them. I panicked and brought them here.”

            “How are they still asleep? You couldn’t have been stupefying them all this time.”

            “Muggle medicine. I gave them heavy doses of sedatives that induces comas until we need them. I stole what I needed from a hospital.”

            Severus sighed. “I don’t even know where to start, but I guess the question I need to ask, who is part of your Plan A?”

            Hermione gave him a small smile. “Fabian and Gideon Prewitt. Molly Weasley’s brothers.”

Chapter Text

            Back at their home, Severus sat down heavily on the couch. “Alright, go through this with me again.”

            Hermione nodded and sat next to him. “Fabian and Gideon die at the beginning of next year by a group of Death Eaters, including Antonin Dolohov.” Severus sneered. He knew of the man, violent with a penchant for torture. “It wasn’t until a little bit after the war that I even found out when they died. They’re twins like George and Fred Weasley; their middle names are Molly’s brother’s names. When we… when we buried Fred, I saw their gravestones. They die February 17^th 1981.”

            “And your plan?”

            “I want to confront them, after Christmas, and tell them what happens. I’ve bought a pensieve so they can view my memories. When it’s time, I’m going to wake up those two Death Eater’s, Imperius them, and have them take Polyjuice to look like the twins. They’ll die instead of Gideon and Fabian.”

            “Putting aside the rest of that insanity, how are you going to convince those two to stay in hiding?”

            Hermione gnawed on her lip. “I have a plan for that, but I’ll have to talk to them first.”

            Severus frowned, thinking. “It may work, but you realize we have almost eight months before that happens? How are you going to keep your little prisoners alive?”

            “Well, as if turns out, Cordelia, Fredrick’s wife, was a caretaker before she started popping out babies. She’s been watching over them, making sure they’re given the right medications, not getting bed sores, that sort of thing.”

            “Do you think that’s wise? Aren’t you risking the statute of secrecy by involving muggles?”

            “I worried about that too, but… let’s be honest, the entire muggle world is entirely Unknown to the timeline. When I explained to them what Voldemort was trying to do, they wanted to help. It’s their lives, and the lives of their children, that he is threatening to eradicate.”

            He blinked. “I’ve never thought of it like that, but you’re right. Their lives are at risk.”

            “I just thought, why shouldn’t they be allowed to play a part in this war?”

            “And they believed you?”

            Hermione looked down. “I may have shown them some simple charms.”

            “I suppose that explains Fredrick’s behavior. Making him the Secret Keeper was genius, by the way.”

            She beamed. “Right? And they get the new house.” Their old home had shocked Hermione. It was no more than a two-bedroom hovel. Cordelia had done her best to make it home, but times were tough. Fredrick already worked more than hours than was reasonable, with his own limited education, his options were slim. Seeing their children, so cramped, in that place was what had decided it for her.

            “I wanted to ask you about that. Fredrick says you’ve been renovating several of the houses. Why and how exactly?”

            “I thought the why would be obvious. We’re going to have to put these people someplace, unless you would like to live with the twins and anyone else, we save on the way?”

            He grimaced. “No, thank you. But why here?”

            “You mean in a rundown street where no one wants to go wizard or muggle alike and we can keep an eye on them at all times?”

            Severus chuckled. “Point taken. You’ve been thinking about this since the first day I brought you here, haven’t you?”

            “I have. Most of the houses were empty anyway and the rest were persuaded to leave.”

            “Then I suppose we come to the last part. How? The money you ‘borrowed’ couldn’t have afforded all these houses and the renovations.”

            Hermione cleared her throat. “I may have invented something, unintentionally, that prospered me a bit of money.”

            His brow furrowed. “Accidentally invented.”

            “Just something that they’ll use in the film industry. It’s really not a massive thing.”

            “Why do I have a feeling it’s just that?”

            “It just has to do with graphics… computers, optics, that sort of thing. I swear I had no idea that it would sell like it did.”

            Severus rubbed his face. “You’ll explain this to me, someday, won’t you?”

            “Of course!”

            “I just don’t think I can take any more surprises, today, wife.”

            Hermione cuddled up next to him. “That’s fine. I’m more than happy with this.” She looked up, her eyes worried. “Do you think I went too far?”

            Severus titled his head, pondering her question. “You have seen this war, how it ends, what it does to people, who is lost to it. Not everyone has the opportunity to fix what is broken and I think that you, Hermione Granger, would never do something unless you understood the consequences. You have a pure heart with good intentions. Has it been marred by the darkness? Yes. But as you pointed out to me having it does not mean it consumes you, it just means you understand the difference and can choose the light.”

            Hermione clenched his shirt. “I don’t know how I survived our time apart.”

            He pulled her tight against him. “Because I am always with you, as you are with me, but you are right. When we are together, we are stronger.”

            “Then let’s never be apart. Not like that. Not ever again.”

            “Whatever power I have, my wife, I promise I will do everything to make sure that’s true.”

            They spent the afternoon curled up together, eventually falling asleep on the couch, until shadows had begun to overtake the room. They finally woke up, and Severus offered to make dinner. Hermione smiled at that, knowing he was anxious to finally use the kitchen he had designed. Happiness spilled over for her. A contentment. She had spent many sleepless nights horrified at what she had done to those two Death Eaters, wondering if Severus would approve. Truly, she hadn’t meant to do anything to them.

            It had been in March, and she was frustrated with one of her more difficult subjects and needed a break. Unable to relax fully, she decided to test out her theory about the Death Eaters. She was only going to see if her ability to give them information worked, but then Lamour, a French native, had her pinned up against a wall. He was a slimy sort of man, with greasy slicked hair and wiry body. Dockson, a large man with a bulbous head and rocks for a brain, laughed. Hermione had a non-verbal stun spell ready and Lamour had fallen to the ground like a house of cards. Dockson took two stunning spells before he finally collapsed, though, he hadn’t actually put up a fight; just stared at her confused. She would have said he was a half-giant if that wasn’t an insult to Hagrid.  

            Hermione watched as her husband worked in the kitchen. It had been such a long day. An eternity it almost felt like. So much information and revelations packed into one. She thought that she would feel different, not being a virgin anymore, but it was more like a part of herself had been opened to her. She still felt shy thinking of being with him in that way, that their days and nights would be different now. Hermione had never thought of herself in that way. Someone who could say innuendo or act sexy; Lavender Brown flitted through her thoughts. That’s how her roommate at school had been. Ron’s ex knew exactly how to use her sexuality to win a guy over; Hermione felt like a bumbling troll compared to her. She immediately felt guilt wash over her. Lavender was dead; the last known victim of Greyback.

            Yet, there was something about growing up. Hermione had always believed she was the mature and responsible one of her friends (or anyone really). As the war had raged on, that feeling only increased, she believed that she understood what it meant to be a grown-up. Afterall, she had been in a war, seen death, fought. Watching Severus though, seeing how he had changed, made her realize that maybe she was wrong. Growing up perhaps meant more than that. It wasn’t about the experience and knowledge she gained, but how she dealt with it that defined herself. Hermione smiled inwardly. The younger version of her would have balked at the idea that books weren’t the end-all she had always believed.

            Severus sat a large casserole dish in front of her. “Your dinner has been served, madame.”

            She breathed in the delectable scent. “Why, thank you, sir.”

            They ate, chatted about nothing in particular, and then cleaned up together. As she dried the last dish, Severus’s arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting in the nook of her neck.

            “Can I help you?”

            “Mm, I think so. A certain witch has stolen my affection, and I find I can’t leave her alone.” His black hair tickled her cheek.

            She leaned into him, putting her head back. “Does this witch share your feelings?”

            His hands moved, lifting her shirt up. One lingered on the edge of her jeans while the other moved underneath the fabric of the tee, to lightly finger under the edge of her bra. Hermione gasped. “Yes, I daresay she does.”

            She was lost for words, unable to think of anything except what his hands were doing. When his hand shifted underneath her bra, his fingers gently kneading the soft skin, Hermione’s knees almost gave out. “Sev,” she breathed.

            “Yes, wife,” he asked smoothly, though she could hear the slight tremble to his own voice.

            “Take me upstairs.”

            Severus chuckled, pulling his hands back. “As you wish.”

            Hermione yelped when he lifted her up, princess style. “Severus Snape, I did not mean literally. Put me down.”

            “No, no,” he said, smirking down at her. “You told me to take you upstairs, so that’s what I’m doing.” He began walking and she squirmed in his arms, gripping his neck tightly.

            “You are the most infuriating man I have ever met.”

            “Yet, you love me.”

            They had reached the stairs, and he relented, letting her down, not wanting to risk banging her head on the thin alleyway. Hermione spun around, putting her hands on her hips. “Yes, I love you. And you love me. I don’t know who that makes crazier.”

            He crossed his arms and gave her a bemused look. “Hermione, are you going to be this difficult every time I try to woo you?”

            “I don’t know. How often do you plan on ‘wooing’ me?”

            Severus took a step up toward her, his eyes dark with mischief, and she stepped back, trying to fight back a smile. Her stomach leaped. It was so wrong to feel this way about being stalked. “Every chance…” Step. “Every moment...” Step. “Every day…” Step. “That I am allowed to love you.” Step. Hermione felt the landing behind her. Her heart was pounding now.

            Trying to get her control of the situation, Hermione turned and tried to run up the last of the steps, stumbling. She felt him close behind her and she gave a throaty laugh as his hands grabbed her, pushing her in mock force against their bedroom door. He kissed her hard, passionately. His fingers laced through her hair. Then his hands lowered, cupping her thighs.

            Hermione gasped as he lifted her legs up so that she was straddling his waist, and she was now lifted higher than him. Their tongues tangled in an epic battle. He threw off her shirt and she felt his fingers deftly working at the clasp of her bra. Hermione shifted and gave him a look when he threw it down the stairs. Severus gave her one of his classic smirks and then she was lost as his lips caressed her bare skin. Kissing against parts she had never even thought to consider as arousing. When his mouth clasped over one of her breasts, she threw her head back so hard it hit against the door.

            Severus shifted his hands down, so they were around the small of her waist, and pulled back. “Are you alright?”

            Hermione glared down at his face, rubbing the back of her head. “When I said upstairs, I meant our bedroom.”

            “Ah,” Severus said, amused. “You really should have been more specific; a man can’t be expected to know all his wife’s dirty little thoughts.” He shifted down slightly so he could push open the door.

            “I’m going to make you suffer for that, husband.”

            His grin made her stomach leap as he walked them into their room, lowering them onto the bed. “I’m counting on it, wife.”

Chapter Text

If there was any doubt that the two loved each other, it was vanquished in the months that followed. The step in their relationship was like an avalanche that consumed the mountain. Hermione and Severus, united in so many ways, became so consumed with one another that they were rarely seen outside of their home. Their only deviation to their schedule was to visit Fredrick and his family; and, eventually, Hagrid.

Their romantic relationship grew as time went on. Neither one was experienced and so they moved slow within the bounds of what they knew. It was one night after they had made love, that Hermione had filled the bath. She had a robe over her naked frame and Hermione went to give him a kiss goodnight. Severus was still in bed, looking tired but happy. He gripped her wrist lightly.

            “Do you want me to join you,” he asked hesitantly. At that point, they hadn’t really become used to being around each other completely exposed.

            Hermione blinked, feeling her skin grow hot. “Sev,” she murmured. “Sure.”

            He followed her, a blanket pulled over his lanky frame. Hermione looked away from him as she pulled her robe off and dropped it to the floor. The silence in the bathroom was deafening. Her face was now so red that it had spread down her neck. She made a partial attempt to cover herself with her hands.

            “This is so embarrassing,” Hermione said. She began to make a beeline for the tub, but he grabbed her and pulled her tight against him.

            His blanket fell. “It is,” he admitted, lifting her chin to kiss her. “But I also don’t want there to be a single thing I don’t know about you. Every fear. Every freckle.” He kissed her shoulder where a little brown mark marked her ivory skin.

            She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body. “I love how you wax poetic, husband.”

            “Are you making fun of me?” Severus glared down at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

            Hermione pulled away and stepped into the tub. “I wouldn’t dare. By next year, you will be a professor again and you might give me detention.”

            Severus laughed and stepped in after her, wrapping his body around her. “Ah, I see where you want to take this. Your little professor fetish.”

            “It is not a fetish when it is your husband,” she argued. Although she had long admitted to herself that she did in fact enjoy the thought of it; but only when it was him.

            “Your logic does not quite fit, Hermione. Since you have all but admitted to me you were attracted to me before your time travel.”

            Hermione scoffed and popped a few bubbles with her fingers. “I said, I may have. I think you are getting quite a full head.”

            It was a different feeling being in the bath with someone else. She could feel his body against her, all of him, and seeing him this way with his knees drawn up next to her, his leg hair floating in the water felt supremely intimate. Another barrier between them broke. It was a different sort of closeness; that which you only get when you live with someone, and your lives become joined. Hermione realized that soon she would know him as well as she knew herself.

            Severus pulled her hair out of the way and kissed the nape of her neck, his favorite spot. “If I have a full head, it’s your fault.”

            “And how do you figure that?”

            His tongue flicked across her skin, and she instinctively pressed further back. “Because, my dear wife, you make me proud to be with you and every day I have to be a better man, so I am worthy of you.”

            “You don’t need to… do… that,” Hermione said, softly, distracted by his menstruations.

            “But I do,” he murmured unperturbed. “When you love someone, you must always earn their love. Show them…” His hand moved down until it was resting at her belly, lowering until it was between her legs. “Exactly how much they mean to you. Through action.”

Severus touched her then, moving his fingers against her until she was gasping, moaning quietly. Silence fell on the bathroom, nothing more than her panting, as moments passed. Her fingers grappled the edge of the tub as she came. Hermione bit her lip as he removed his hand and wrapped it around her waist.

Once she felt like herself, Hermione carefully turned around in the tub, crouching. She glared at him, and he smirked, clearly happy with himself. “You think you are quite amusing, don’t you?” She retorted softly.

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I merely proved my point as any good husband would.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you are incorrigible, Severus Snape. Then I suppose I should do the same then?” She crawled onto his lap, straddling him.

He took a deep breath, and a smile flickered across his lips as she lowered herself on him. His fingers dug into her hips as she moved against him. This time it was not quite as quiet as hers had been. The water lapped loudly as they made love and much of it spilled over the sides. Severus groaned loudly as his moment arrived and she felt him convulse. Her stomach fluttered with emotion as he breathed multiple ‘I love you’s’ into her ear.

When they got out, they almost immediately got into the shower; their bath no longer quite the cleansing experience it had been meant to be. They cleaned each other’s bodies; another barrier broke. As they cuddled into bed together, Hermione couldn’t keep the contentment she felt from overwhelming her. She thought herself very selfish, because in this moment, if she had only come back to be with Severus than she would want for nothing else in her life.

            It was on the day that Harry Potter was brought into the world that Severus took Hermione to ‘meet’ Hagrid. It was a hot July 31st when they stepped into the Leaky Cauldron and a coolness passed over them as they entered. Shadows played heavily over the nearly empty pub, but there in the corner was the massive form of the Gamekeeper.

            Hagrid stood and held a beefy hand out to Severus. “Good t’ see ya, Master Severus.”

            “It’s been too long,” Snape had said kindly.

            “I hear’ ya was a real master, now, and of potions, too. Ne’er my best subject, not that many were.”

            Severus shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, my teacher was quite proficient with his skills.” Hermione shuddered next to him. “Hagrid, our last conversation indicated you understood the need for secrecy about our relationship and I hope that has not changed.”

            “O’ course not,” Hagrid boomed, before lowering his voice. “O’ course not, Master Severus.”

            “We would like to swear you to secrecy, if you do not mind, Hagrid. For all of our safety.”

            Hagrid gave them a sad smile. “I don’ ha’ a wand, I’m ‘fraid to say.”

            Hermione gave him a bemused look. “Yes, you do. It’s in your umbrella.”

            Hagrid went pale. “How?”

            “After the oath,” she said kindly.

            Once the oath was made, they all sat down. Hagrid cupped a large mug of firewhiskey, staring at Hermione amazed as Severus started the story. They told him how Hermione had come from the future to save lives, explaining how she needed to remain in the shadows of the Wizarding World. They also told him of Severus’s role in this war, earning a few tears from the big man.

            Hagrid’s big bushy brows were furrowed. “So, that’s how you knows ‘bout my wand.”

            “Yes, Hagrid,” Hermione said. “I knew you. Me, Harry and Ron. We were your friends.”

            He gave her a smile. “I ca’ see it. You seem a sweet girl.” His eyes turned serious. “What do you need fro’ me?”

            “Nothing right now,” Severus assured him. “Except perhaps your friendship. We have few allies in this time, and it would be good for Hermione to have someone other than me and her muggle friends to associate with.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

            Hagrid seemed honestly shocked. “O’ all the wizards out there, you want my friendship?”

            Hermione reached out and patted his hand. “Hagrid, I have known you for a long time. You are one of the most honorable and loyal men I have ever met.”

            “But my past,” he said miserably.

            “Hagrid, we both know it wasn’t you who opened the Chamber of Secrets. In my time, you are cleared of that charge.”

            Hagrid looked close to bawling. “Aren’t ya worried about the timeline?”

            Hermione gave Severus a sideways glance and he nodded. “We both believe I came back to not just save those lives, but to bring hope. I can’t imagine a better way to make these long years better for you, Hagrid, than for you to know the truth.”

            “Oh, Hermione,” Hagrid breathed, pulling a large handkerchief from his robe. “Ya’ have no idea wha’ tha’ means to me. Truly. Wha’ever you two need, I am there for you.”

            Hermione and Severus exchanged looks. “The same goes for you,” Severus told him.

            Hagrid looked at them like they had just grown two heads each. Hermione understood. Hagrid was a loyal man but rarely had he true friends. Dumbledore was certainly an ally. But Hagrid spent most of his time being misunderstood and looked down upon by his colleagues at Hogwarts. He was different, there was no doubt of that, but Hagrid’s obsession with magical creatures, terrifying and large, was an admirable trait. Hermione had realized after the war how much the man reminded her of another outcast: Newt Scamander. Scamander had been often ridiculed for his obsession as well.

            After their meeting with Hagrid, he was a regular fixture in their home. Hagrid and Severus would spend long hours in the gardens outside, discussing the varying plants and herbs they needed. Hermione would watch from a lawn chair, a book open in her lap, a smile on her face as she watched the strange friendship. Severus and Hagrid couldn’t have looked like more an odd pair; the large, rough man with his beaming face and the dark, studious Severus. Yet, they were. Good friends bound by shared pasts and a love of the magical world, light and dark. Like Severus, Hagrid was not bound to the biases of dark magic.

            It was Hagrid who kept Hermione company when Severus was called to Voldemort. Those nights were painful and the big burly man, until school started (and even then), was always there for her, holding her hand in his while they waited for Severus to return. And it was Hagrid who had ‘borrowed’ medical phials from Madame Pomphrey for the bad nights; the nights that Severus came back bloody and broken, his body shaking from the cruciatus curse. It was also Hagrid who sat with Severus in the library, mugs of firewhisky in their hands, as they sat silently after Snape had to hurt someone in the name of the Dark Lord.

            The Barnes, especially the children, adored Hagrid. Fredrick and Hagrid would talk of security measures for Spinner’s End, discussing ways to ensure their ‘dear friends’ were safe. Cordelia took to Hagrid the way any loving mother would (though Hagrid was older), making sure the big man had plenty of food to take with him when he returned to Hogwarts. The children, though, loved the half-giant. The younger children climbed on him the way they might a jungle gym and Hagrid allowed them. He brought them a basket of kittens the second time he had met them, earning him a kiss on the cheek from Cordelia, and they had all watched as the gleeful shouts of children echoed through the house as they all cuddled and chased the tiny felines through the house.

            Hermione and Severus couldn’t believe how their lives changed. The previous year they had all but been alone in their journey and now they had something more precious than they could have imagined. It only solidified their resolve for the future. This… the happy moments together, the brightness of their friendships, the warmth of home – neither one was willing to let it go.

            The hardest moment for Hermione came on her birthday. Severus wanted her to celebrate it; she had refused the previous year. With tears in her eyes, Hermione had told him that she couldn’t bear to see her parents with another baby that wasn’t her. Even though it was Hermione who was being born, the woman didn’t think of it like that. That Hermione, that little baby, had her parents, had their love and their memories. She couldn’t do it. Now, a year had passed, and Severus hoped to bring her a bit of light, but she gripped his hand as they sat on the couch together.

            “I was born on the day I came to you,” she had told him. “We can celebrate then.”

            Severus squeezed his hand in response. “Yes, wife,” he told her, wishing he could take the pain away.  

Chapter Text

Hermione watched in anticipation as Christmas neared. It was her and Severus’s first Christmas, together, and the house was decorated to the nines. She had placed two Christmas trees (courtesy of Hagrid) in the house. A large one in the living room and another in their bedroom. Garland wrapped around every post and railing she could find; bobbles were placed everywhere she could find space. Severus had to forcibly take away her Christmas buying privileges for his own sanity before the second week had even come.

            She and Severus had been enjoying their time together. While things were not always easy, their time in their home was relatively at ease. Hermione would spend her days tinkering on her muggle project that she hoped to use to help them, and Severus worked on potions in the kitchen, sometimes baking. He was called often by Voldemort, and it had matured him. His occlusion skills now were that of the future, a master, and his legilimency wasn’t far behind. The Dark Lord was beginning to demand absolute devotion to him, his methods becoming more as they were in Hermione’s memories. Muggle-killings were increasing, and Severus often came home, his clothes covered in blood, as he tried to stop it from becoming all-out torture. When he could, he would warn Fredrick and the Cockney man would go to the location, trying to minimize how many were at the location the Death Eaters were set to attack.

            Hermione felt more and more lost as time went on. The worry about saving the Prewitt twins terrified her more than little and she would spend hours bent over their plan with Severus, planning for every tiny contingency. Angrier and more frustrated, sometimes Hermione’s emotions were like a violent roller coaster sending her over the edge. She had more than a few days when Severus would grab her as she stormed the house carrying her to the bedroom. Sometimes they would nap, other times they would make love. When they would connect like that, it was because Hermione wouldn’t stop arguing until he swept her into a deep kiss, everything else forgotten as they fell into their passion for one another.

            The night before Christmas Eve, Hermione decided to host a party with the Barnes family and Hagrid. It was her first real event in her home, and she felt the pressure to make it perfect. A new appreciation for Molly Weasley was found as she tried to make multiple dishes for people with different palettes, children included. Severus had opted to hide at Hagrid’s until the appointed time. Saying her moods lately rivaled his own sour, grumpy nature. She had spent most of her day cleaning and switching out dishes in the oven when Cordelia stopped by her newest baby straddled to her back.

            “How can I help, Hermione?” The woman asked kindly.

            Hermione pushed her hair out of her face, her face feeling hot. “If you can conjure me a way of going back in time multiple times so I can actually get this done, that would be great. Honestly, I am losing it, Delia. I don’t know what I was thinking hosting this.”

            “Sit,” Cordelia ordered. Hermione obeyed, putting her face in her hands. The older woman began rubbing her back. “Hermione, you are a great young woman, but you think way too hard. Sometimes you must let things go or you’ll forget to enjoy it. You are pushing yourself too hard. Look at you, you’ve even lost weight.”

            “Oh, that. I’ve had a bit of a stomach bug or food poisoning. I’m not even sure anymore.”

            Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “And how long has this been going on?”

            “Two weeks,” Hermione gave her a wan smile. “Maybe it’s just stress. I’ve wanted this Christmas to be so perfect that I’ve driven myself to sickness.”

            “What does Severus say?”

            Hermione rolled her eyes. “That I best not give it to him.”

            Cordelia smiled, knowingly. “When do you normally get sick? Is it after certain foods or times?”

            “At the beginning, it was mainly when I first woke up or in the night. Now, though, it’ll just hit out of the blue. I’ve thrown up at least twice because something Severus brewed. Yesterday, I could barely walk a few feet from the loo.”

            “Dear me, Hermione, have your parents never talked to you about this?”

            “About what? Stomach bugs?” Hermione’s eyes flickered over the room. Everything felt like a horrible mess and her head was beginning to ache.

            Cordelia gave her a long, amused look. “Hermione, how can you be so smart and yet so naïve?”

            Hermione leaned back, giving the woman a reproachful look. “Delia, I still have so much to do. If you would just get to the point.”

            “Hermione, let me put this another way… when was the last time you had your ‘visit’?”

            “My visit? Oh, you mean my… monthly…” Hermione felt choked for a moment; her face visibly paling. She stood and walked into the kitchen where her planner lay. She wrote down everything. Every detail, every plan, everything for the next twenty years of her life. The calendar glared back at her as if taunting her.

            Cordelia stepped beside her. “Is this it?”

            Hermione nodded numbly as Cordelia picked it up and flipped through the pages.

            “Ah,” Cordelia said finally. “Well, your tiny little writing aside, it looks like the last time you had your visit was late September.”

            The young woman stared down at the book aghast. “No, there’s no way. There’s got to be some mistake. I mean…” Her hands fell to her belly. “I would be three months pregnant.” The words hung in the air as the force of reality hit.

            Cordelia flipped through the book. “Not necessarily. Based on your symptoms I’d say you’re in your second month, that’s when the morning sickness really starts getting bad. Hmm, if I’m right, and I have had six kids, I’d say you got pregnant right after your visitor in September. Some women are surprisingly fertile, even right after your monthly.”

            Hermione pulled a chair out and sat down. “Delia, this wasn’t part of the plan, and I don’t mean, like life plan, I mean the big plan. How am I supposed to save people next year if I’m waddling around?”

            “Dear girl, you are thinking about this all wrong. This won’t stop you. In fact, if you and your husband are any indication this baby will make all the difference in the coming year.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            Cordelia pulled her wrap around, holding her newest child, a little girl with her father’s dark hair. She cradled the child in her arms. “Having a child doesn’t make you weak. It’s the opposite. It makes you so powerful and gives you more reason to live than you knew was possible. You look at this child and you think she’s cute. I look at this child and I see me and my husband, I see the possibility of her personality, her spirit. Me and Fred, we created this… wonderful culmination of our love and we would die protecting her. That is strength.” She reached out and rested a gentle hand on Hermione’s stomach. “Right now, growing inside of you is a little boy or girl that you will love like nothing else. It will overpower everything else. You want to succeed with your quest? Be a mother. Nothing in this world is more powerful than the love of a mother.”

            Hermione gave her a small smile. It was hard to imagine such a thing. How could she love more? She had been an only child and certainly her parents had doted on her, but her experience with little ones was limited to the Barne’s children (and Rory and Amy Williams). But she had to admit, if anyone was an expert, it was Cordelia. She was a wonderful mother, kind, gentle with a strong bit of Scottish sass. Her home, despite the number of children, was always filled with warmth and love.

            Fred and Cordelia’s story had been a surprise. Fred was a young man, barely nineteen years old, when he had started jumping from job to job, eventually ending up in Scotland over a summer. He was doing construction on an old castle, very important and historical. Fred had been asked to watch over the site overnight when he saw a beautiful red-haired woman in a long white dress walking through the castle. Fred was sure she was some sort of ghost or witch. When he confronted the apparition, he discovered it was Cordelia. Seventeen. She was the daughter of the man leading the restoration. A rich mogul from the city who wanted a piece of history in his back pocket. Cordelia had the finest education, more money than she could ever spend, and instead she gave it all up to be with Fred. Her father didn’t approve and cut her off when she refused to leave Fred. She didn’t even blink. The man had never even met his grandchildren.

            Hermione was ordered upstairs to rest while Cordelia finished her tasks, but Hermione couldn’t sleep. All she could think of was how she was going to tell Severus. They hadn’t discussed children; besides a few pointed remarks about their empty bedrooms. Hermione stood and walked over to one of them, standing in the doorway. It was stacked with a few random boxes, overflow from her college days. They would need a crib and clothes and a dresser. Hermione clenched her belly. She didn’t even know what babies needed. Her entire life, learning and reading, and she had no idea what babies needed. Tears burned in her eyes.

            Her fingers spun her wedding band when something pricked at her mind. She rushed down the stairs and through the breezeway to the old house. Carefully, she crawled up into the attic and into Severus’s mother’s boxes. There. Hermione knew she had seen something. She pressed the bit of cloth into her chest and breathed. It would be alright. They could do this. Hopefully, Severus wouldn’t kill her. It was the only time in a year she had ever felt uncertain about his feelings. Would the introverted, snarky man who seemed to hate his students in the future accept their child?

            That evening the party was in full swing. Severus and Hagrid had arrived just on time; Hagrid swaying from over-indulging in firewhiskey and swept Hermione into a massive hug that lifted her several feet above the floor. Five young kids ran underfoot as their parents cuddled on the couch, holding their youngest in between them, as they stole kisses from each other. Every available table was laden down with food. The house was filled with laughter and good conversation. Hermione did her best to join in the festivities; she had worked so hard after all, but her hands kept resting on her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was Cordelia’s words or her own self-awareness. She felt different.

            Severus often pulled her into either the stairs or kitchen, kissing her. Other times, she had to drag him back into the chaos after he would hide away. She always allowed him a bit of time to recharge before doing so; Hermione knew that this sort of thing overwhelmed him. He did seem to enjoy himself, but the noise was a lot, even for Hermione. She perhaps shouldn’t have made quite so many sweets. The children (and Hagrid) had already almost depleted everything she had made. The raucous increasing as the deserts disappeared.

            Eventually everyone gathered around the tree. Severus stood behind her chair. While he was friendly (for Severus) to everyone this sort of thing was out of his wheelhouse. He never had family parties or friends to share important times with. Hermione doubted his parents had even had a Christmas tree laden with presents. A couple of the Barnes’ children had taken a liking to Severus, reminding Hermione of little Amy. They kept tugging on his black robes, asking him questions and asking him to pick them up (mainly the toddlers). A few tears rushed down her face, at the realization that he would make a good father. He had a never-ceasing patience regarding young ones.

            The Barnes’ children were going to be allowed to open one present and they all dug in with vigor. The floor became a mess of wrapping paper. It was when Severus stood and brought a large box to Hagrid that it truly felt like Christmas. He hadn’t even told Hermione that he had gotten his friend something, but it wasn’t a surprise. She knew how much Severus valued Hagrid’s friendship. The big man stared down at it once it was in his lap.

            “Oi, what’s this? You shouldn’t have. Too good t’ me, you are.” Hagrid wiped a tear from his cheek as he shakily opened the box. “Oh, oh, my.” A whine emitted from the interior.

            Hermione eyes widened when she saw what it was. In Hagrid’s massive hands was a puppy. A brown, floppy boarhound puppy. Her stomach leapt. Fang. She looked at Severus, but she had no idea how to convey her thoughts to him. Severus had given Hagrid his dog; the dog she knew from her time. It was destiny. It hit her harder than her revelation this morning: her time-travel was more than just a whim. It meant this had happened before, not just in her ‘unknown’ way, but that all of this had happened in her time, because otherwise Hagrid wouldn’t have had Fang. Hermione had already done this. An ease settled into her stomach. It meant that she would succeed; at least with some of it.

            The children squealed in delight as Hagrid set Fang (within minutes he had already named it) on the ground. Fang’s round squishy belly hung low to the ground as it bounded around the living room, chased by laughing children. Hagrid stood, sweeping Severus into a tight hug; her husband patted the big man awkwardly on the back.

            It was almost two hours later before they were finally alone. Fredrick and Cordelia took turns carrying exhausted children back to their house. Hagrid cried over them as he held Fang tight to his chest before heading home to Hogwarts – Severus apparating them, since Hagrid technically wasn’t allowed to use magic. When her husband returned, Hermione sat curled up on the couch.

            “So,” he said, pulling his fingers through his hair. “Do you want to tell me what has been bothering you?”

            Hermione bit her lip. “I’ve been pretty grumpy, haven’t I?”

            He snorted. “Hermione, hippogriffs have better moods than you have.”

            “Thank you for mincing the truth, husband, I appreciate the consideration.”

            “You didn’t marry me for my manners. Now, tell me what’s wrong. It’s more than just the holidays. Are you worried about February, because I’ll go over it with you one more time, but any more planning and we’ll have it down to the seconds.”

            “No, it’s not that.” She shifted and pulled a wrapped gift from behind the pillow she was laying on. “I didn’t know until today… the reason and I hope that you don’t hate… that you don’t hate it.”

            Severus frowned and took the gift, turning it over in his hands. “You’re scaring me a bit, Hermione.” He pulled the wrapping off and a green blanket fell out. His brow furrowed as he looked at it. “This was my baby blanket. I don’t understand.”

            Hermione pulled her knees up and buried her face in her arms, her frizzy hair billowing out over her like a shield. “I’m sorry!”

            “Sorry for what,” Severus asked, frustrated. He patted her back. “Hermione, what’s wrong. I don’t understand why you’d give me a baby bl-an-ket.” His enunciated the last word and she felt him shift forward, could hear the sounds of his fingers rubbing over the blanket. “Hermione… are you pregnant?”

            She nodded, refusing to look up. She couldn’t bear to see what his face might look like.

            Severus stood and she heard him pacing. “How? I mean, obviously, I know how… but how? I thought you of all people would have brewed a contraceptive potion, considering your proclivity to plan everything.”

            Hermione lifted her head slightly so she could burn a hole in the rug. “I forgot,” she said miserably. “We didn’t plan on being intimate and then you came home, and we were and I just forgot that was a thing.” Tears ran down her face as she chuckled darkly. “Hermione Granger, for the first time ever, stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

            Severus sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. “You’re not stupid. Shh. I’m sorry. I am surprised, don’t get me wrong. We’re going to be parents. I’m not even twenty yet and I’m going to be a dad. Fuck me,” he breathed.

            Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. “That was sort of how we got into this mess.”

            He gave her a bemused smile and caressed her cheek. “Pregnancy makes you snarky, wife. You are clearly carrying my child.” He tried to say it with his usual amount of humor, but his face turned serious. “My child. Our child.”

            “Are you mad? We hadn’t ever discussed it.” She lifted her head now and looked at him steadily, but he was looking at her stomach. His eyes glanced up at her. Severus looked almost in awe.

            “Mad,” he asked quietly. “No, Hermione. You’re right, we never talked about it, and I’m not sure if I have ever been more terrified in my life, not even standing up against the Dark Lord. But…” He carefully lifted his hand and pressed it against her belly that was still against her thighs. Hermione leaned back. “…I think I might be happy. This is something that we made, Hermione. It’s us.”

            “Delia said it’s a culmination of our love.”

            “Cordelia knows?”

            Hermione blushed. “She’s the one who realized. I was the one who was stupid enough to believe that I had a long-running stomach bug; it seems so obvious now.”

            Severus pulled her into his embrace, and she wrapped her arms around him. “Wife, I demand that you stop putting yourself down. I won’t accept it.”

            “But I feel so…” He squeezed her. “Ridiculous. How can I have missed something so obvious? And the timing is horrible.”

            “You’re right. Except time works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You arrived two years before the end of the first war, falling in the lap of your potions professor who you had nothing but mixed memories of – yet, look how that turned out. That time allowed us to fall in love and plan. Didn’t you say that your ordeal with the time-turner in your third year ended up being far more than you thought, as well? We don’t know how it’s going to work out, my love, but we will do it the same way we have done everything else: together.”

            Hermione blinked away the tears. “Severus, what would I do without you?”

            “Well, not get pregnant for one. I am fairly certain I bare some of that blame, after all,” he said dryly.

            She guffawed, pulling back. “You make a good point, husband. Why didn’t you think of it?”

            He deadpanned. “Because my experience with women is almost non-existent or do you not recall who took my precious innocence?”

            “We’re going to start this again? Severus Snape, I swear, how many times—”

            Severus pulled her into a kiss, and she straddled his lap. “Shut up, wife.”

            Hermione’s eyes softened and she cradled his face. “Yes, husband.”

            “Thank you for the present.”

            “You like it, then?”

            “I love it, Hermione. It is everything.”

Chapter Text

            February arrived quickly.

            Hermione and Severus spent the remainder of December and January buying things for the nursery. They outspent Hermione’s Christmas splurge by several hundred dollars; it was only through Cordelia that they were able to reign themselves in at all. She eventually began insisting that she go with them if they went shopping otherwise, they would come home laden with bags. Severus was the worst of them. He couldn’t bear to have his child have the same sort of childhood he had; poor and miserable as it had been. It would only be the best for his son or daughter.

            Severus spent his time reading books about pregnancy and babies. He was obsessed and Hermione knew he was afraid. He was worried that he would be like his father. Severus also worried that the Dark Magic he indulged in would hurt his child. On the nights when he was called to Voldemort’s service, he would sleep in his old home, not wanting the effect of that darkness and violence anywhere near her or their growing child. If he had to brew anything remotely toxic, he did so at the old place. Hermione grew accustomed to him disappearing into the breezeway and him not returning until he was scrubbed clean with new robes, regardless of the reason (potions or Death Eater duties).

            When February came and their due date for saving the Prewitt twins arrived, Severus was almost maniacal. He was terrified that Hermione and their unborn child would get harmed. To Hermione’s chagrin, he all but pushed her from the plans. Instead, he opted in Hagrid who, once knowing Hermione’s state, readily agreed to help. Cordelia had to talk her down on multiple occasions, reminding her that Severus’s fear wasn’t completely unfounded. The unborn child was in an important part of it’s growth that could be affected even by bouts of negativity. The woman may not have completely understood the depth of the magical world, but it wasn’t beyond her reasoning to surmise that Dark Magic could hurt the pregnancy.

            It was two days before their ‘deaths’ when Severus kissed Hermione on her cheek and left with Hagrid. They were going to kidnap the Prewitt brothers. She paced back and forth for hours, her heart pounding. So many things could go wrong. Hagrid opened the front door at almost midnight, wiping a sweating brow. She ran up to him.

            “Is a’right, Hermione,” he told her.

            She rested her head on his bulbous stomach, and he lightly patted her. “Problems,” she asked.

            “Well, they gi’ credit t’ the Order, I’ll give ‘em that.” Then Hagrid explained.

            They had been watching the Prewitt brothers for over a month, detailing their every movement. Every Tuesday they went to the Leaky Cauldron and drank with old friends from school before heading home (which ended up being a house only a bit away from the Weasleys). Severus and Hagrid had to get them before they apparated home and were inside their barriers. Hagrid struck up conversation with them, telling them he had something to show them. He played his part well, which was easier since the Prewitt twins knew him from school. Once inside the alley, Severus was disillusioned and fired a stupefying spell at them, but to his surprise Gideon caught sight of him.

            Then started a massive battle in the alley that Severus was barely able to contain with a barrier spell. Finally, he caught Fabian with the stupefy. Gideon was distracted by his brother’s fall, fearing the worst, and Hagrid knocked him out. A little more ruffled than they had planned, Severus apparated the brothers one at a time to their new home and, eventually, Hagrid. The house (one of Hermione’s successful renovations) had been spelled to keep them in until they could persuade them to the truth.

            Hermione let out a shaky breath. “So, he is getting them ready?”

            “Yeah. Genius binding t’ house with magical and muggle means, Hermione.”

            The house had bars over the windows (she would remove them later) and all the locks on the door could only be opened from the outside. They had also layered the house with magical means, so they couldn’t damage it or escape until they were ready.

            She gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Hagrid. Do you want me to take you home?”

            He shook his head. “I’m gonna head back o’r there. Severus doesn’ want ya apparating in your state.”

            “He needs to stop worrying so much.”

            Hagrid raised one of his thick eyebrows. “He loves you. Let him do this for ya’. Sev has ‘nough on his plate right now; don’ make him worry ‘bout you, too.”

            Hermione’s shoulders dropped. “I know you’re right. My hormones don’t agree, but I’m learning they can’t be trusted.”

            Hagrid said his goodbyes and left through the door. Hermione still felt so helpless. It was her plan after all. Her fingers fluttered over her stomach where a hardness had begun forming. Hagrid was right. Severus already had so much to worry about. Voldemort was becoming more and more violent and the weight of what her husband was having to do was already eating away at him. She couldn’t make him worried about her as well. Turning, Hermione wrapped a large blanket around herself, cradling a book to her chest that she would never open, and fell asleep on the couch.

            Severus glared down at the two unconscious forms. Gideon and Fabian Prewitt. They were as fiery as their red hair. Big men, they were imposing on their muscles and height alone. To his reluctant approval, they were also very competent mages. Creative and powerful. They were currently chained up in an empty bedroom that faced the creek bed. Bars were over the window with a strong plexiglass over that. The door was reinforced with long strips of metal. Besides that, were several magical barriers to hold them.

            He conjured food and water for them, as well as a couple buckets. Hermione hoped they wouldn’t be in this room for long, but Severus wasn’t as confident. These were brave wizards of the Order of the Phoenix. They were going to be asked to give up everything for the next seventeen years, their family and friends, until the Dark Lord was defeated. He wouldn’t be so willing, and Severus sincerely doubted they would be either.

            Going down the steps, Hagrid was already back.

            “I can apparate you home now.”

            “Nah,” Hagrid said. “I a’ready fed Fang. He’ll ha’ made a world of mess, but let me kee’ the night watch.”

            “Are you sure? It’s a school night.”

            “Ya’r wife needs you. Anyway, ya’ spelled the hut so I’d know if anyone came.” He pulled out a small coin, mimicking Hermione’s Dumbledore’s Army communicators. “I’ll let ya know.”

            Severus sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair. “Fine. But go through the breezeway. Knock three times and it’ll open.”

            Severus showed him and disappeared down the small hall to their home. Fredrick had built breezeways between all the homes on that side of the street so that if necessary no one had to step outside where they could be seen. His wife was curled up on the couch, fast asleep, holding a book in her arms like a child would a stuffed animal. He pulled it out from her arms and picked her up. Severus carried her carefully up the steps and laid her down on their bed, covering her with the blankets. He pulled off his robes and sunk down next to her, pulling her tight against him, one hand under her head and the other pressed firmly against her stomach.

            Hermione watched as Cordelia unhooked the two Death Eaters. The woman had been weaning them for the last week, but now was the final push for them to waken from their year-long coma. Severus stood next to her, his arms crossed, and his robes pulled tightly around him. Once they woke up, Severus would put them under Imperius spell, convincing them that they were Fabian and Gidion Prewitt.

            “I still don’t like this,” he said.

            Hermione pressed her hand into his. “You need to watch them. I don’t want Cordelia anywhere near them.”

            “You shouldn’t be either. This is Dark Magic, Hermione.”

            “I know, but Hagrid can’t leave again so soon. You need a second mage here.”

            Severus sighed. “Fine, but you stay behind me.”

            She nodded. They said their goodbyes to Cordelia who wished them luck before disappearing up the stairs.

            It took two hours before the two Death Eaters began to move. They had been restrained with chains and the metal clanged against the medical beds as their movements became more erratic.

            “Where the hell are we?” Frisch Lamar groaned.

            “You’re end,” Severus said coolly. He raised his wand and said the unforgivable. The man’s faces went slack and his body limp.

            Snape walked forward, the hum of the spell passing from his wand to over the two men. You are Fabian Prewitt, he told Frisch through the spell. You are a member of the Order of the Phoenix, you are loyal to the cause of Dumbledore. You have a twin, Gideon, and a sister, Molly. You are loyal to the Order. You hate Death Eaters and will fight them with all the powers in your soul. You will obey all orders that come from Severus Snape.

            Frisch’s face wrinkled as the unforgivable overwrought his free will and thoughts. “I am Fabien Prewitt. I am Fabian Prewitt,” he murmured.

            Severus breathed out. The spell had already taken much of his magic. Usually, an imperius was cast giving a simple instruction; he wasn’t sure he had ever heard of writing over someone’s entire personality.

            “Are you all right,” Hermione asked from the other side of the room.

            He nodded. “I just need a few minutes.”

            “Let me put in the memories.”

            “Hermione,” he tried to argue, but she came up next to him, pressing her hand into his arm.

            “Please,” she said softly. “I can do this much, my love.”

            In her hand, she held vials of silver memory. It was the memory of the fight between the Prewitt twins, an unexpected benefit of the previous night. If they were to be convincing as the two red heads this would strongly aid their masquerade. Standing over Frisch, Hermione popped the vial open and poured it into the IV line. In her studies, she experimented with this. It worked, but only if the mind was open to take the memories. It would flow through the bloodstream into the brain stem. Her own experiments, performed on Severus (since he wouldn’t let her do anything to herself), had shown that the memories become one with the user. They had used one of her memories, a Christmas with her parents when she was just a child, when they had performed it on Severus. For him, the memory had become as clear as if he had been there himself, smells, feelings, images. It stayed with him for over a month before finally fading.

            Frisch and Marv would be dead long before that happened.

            Severus watched his wife for a moment as she made sure that the procedure was a success. Only when she had stepped away to the far side of the room once more did he cast the next imperio. Marv Dockson was easier than Frisch; he was a very stupid man and his mind almost completely empty of intelligent thought. Hermione repeated the procedure.

            “What now?” Hermione said.

            Severus crossed his arms, pulling his robes closed. “I looked into the twin’s minds when they were unconscious. Tonight, they are guarding the ministry. I will instruct them to continue this and have them take the Polyjuice before I let them loose.”

            “Is that wise? Just letting them go?”

            Severus sighed. “It’s a necessity. I have already made clear to Dolohov that I want to be part of the raid tonight. He was confused, but not enough to disallow it.”

            Hermione felt sick. “Alright.”

            “Go and watch over the Prewitt’s. I still have a few memories they need to know before I can release them. When I am done, I’ll find you.”

            “Then we wait for you to be called.”

            Severus caressed her cheek. “Then we wait.”

            “Snape,” Antonin sneered. The pale, long face was twisted in displeasure. “Our new celebrity with our Dark Lord.”

            Severus glared at the man. “Dolohov, I am surprised that you have the capacity to speak in more than monosyllabic words.”

            Antonin’s face passed over in confusion. “Whatever. You said you wanted in tonight, did you not?”

            “I did. You are not the only one trying to stay in our Lord’s good graces.”

            “Psh, as if the young potion master could do any wrong.” Five other men stood to the outskirts of the meeting which was being held in a dark alley of London. “Tonight, we are going to kidnap a witch, muggle-born, of course. She has information our Lord wants. He has already promised to let me have her and I have oh so many plans.”

            Severus swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Antonin was known for his love of torture. He was not so vile as to rape, he considered muggles and muggle-born too dirty, but his violence was renown, his creativity pulled from the mind of the devil itself. He also did not stop his crew if they decided to indulge in their wanton desires.

            “Then let us go,” Severus drawled, acting bored.

            “Have somewhere to be?”

            Severus gave the man a cool look. “Not all of us are so idle to not have other responsibilities. Perhaps, if you performed your duties with more acuity, the Dark Lord would favor you as well.”

            Antonin glared at him, hatefully. “Let’s go.”

            They apparated outside the ministry and immediately fell into a firefight. Severus stayed to the shadows as the six other Death Eaters fought against the Order members who had been waiting; the man did wonder how they had known, but he couldn’t think of that. Mad-Eye was in the throng as were the faux-Prewitts. Two other order members fought at the side-lines. Light filled the dark night in the muggle street as spells were cast.

            The faux-Prewitts singled off Antonin (as Severus had guided them too) and all the others fell to the wayside, watching in wonder, amidst their own fights. The five other Death Eaters were brought down, mainly by Mad-Eye; their bodies bound. Severus had been careful to stay outside of it, not wanting to draw Moody’s attention. Then it happened. Antonin was pushed back. He was going to lose. Severus rolled his eyes. Of course.

            Severus carefully stood to the side, a notice-me-not around him and cast an avada at the same time Antonin cast a stupefy. Faux-Fabian dropped to the ground. Faux-Gideon screamed in rage, throwing everything he had at the man. A sectum sempra by Severus cut off the man’s legs and he stumbled forward. Antonin went in for the kill.

            For a moment, all was chaos as Mad-Eye rushed forward trying to save Gideon. Severus pulled his Death Eater mask over his face and apparated next to Antonin, grabbing the man by the arm while tossing an incendio at the twins. Their bodies would be burned beyond recognition even after the Polyjuice wore off. He side-alonged Antonin away leaving a raging Moody.

            They dropped back into the alley way. Antonin pushed him away. “I could have gotten them all,” he barked.

            Severus narrowed his eyes. “Doubtful. Or are you so foolish that you think you would have won without my help?”

            “Why? You were hiding in the shadows like a coward,” Antonin spat.

            “You are known to the Order already, you stupid man. I am not. The Dark Lord wants to keep it that way.” It was true, Voldemort just didn’t know it yet. “You will get the credit for their murder.”

            Antonin rubbed his long face, an evil smirk passing over his face. “I will get the credit. Yes, yes, I like that. You will tell the Dark Lord it was me?”

            “You know better than that. No one can hide the truth from him, and I will not lie, but whether or not he chooses to tell the others is another matter entirely.”

            The Death Eater thought this over. “Glory. The others will be in awe, yes. Oh, yes. I like that.”

            Severus inwardly groaned. “If there is nothing else, we should get back to the estate. We may have failed in securing his mudblood, but the death of two Order members may stay his hand.” Probably not, he thought ruefully.

            Antonin nodded, unperturbed. He was already thinking of the accolades from his comrades.

            Hermione paced back and forth in the living room of the Prewitt’s house. Their relentless pounding upstairs driving her balmy; only increasing her worry about Severus. It had been hours. Daylight was already beginning to peep through the windows. Her thoughts were wild, going from assurance to doubt. What if she had been wrong? Her hands clenched her stomach as her worst fears plagued her. Would her child know their father?

            The breezeway door opened, and she jumped.

            Severus walked through, his body slumped and shaking. She ran forward as he collapsed to his knees. His fingers pushed through her hair. “I’m alright,” he said quietly. “I’m alright.”

            “Riddle punished you?”

            “Because we failed our initial task, that is all. I expected as much.” He leaned back; his black eyes exhausted. “It was a success, Hermione. We did it. You saved the Prewitt twins.”

Chapter Text

            “You’re dead,” Severus said, throwing down the Daily Prophet at the Prewitt twin’s feet.

            Gideon carefully lifted the paper, looking over the front page, where as the man said, their deaths were reported. Their little sister, Molly, cried into Mad-Eye’s shirt as her husband patted her on the back. “I don’t’ understand.”

            “Has to be a fake,” Fabian said, taking the paper from his brother.

            “I assure you; it is not.”

            Gideon frowned. “Why and how?”

            Severus stretched his fingers out before crossing his arms. “It is a complicated answer, better explained by someone more amiable than me.”

            Hermione stepped cautiously into the room, a pensieve hovering in her hands. “Hello, Gideon, Fabian.”

            “Who are you?”

            She breathed in. “It’s better if I don’t say. Not yet at least.” Hermione didn’t want their memories written over by her false identity. “I felt that memories would be the easiest way to explain who I am and why we saved you. I can answer any questions you want after that.”

            Fabian stared at the bowl with distrust. “Memories can be tampered with.”

            “But not altered,” Severus said, shortly, annoyed.

            “You can go one at a time to ensure each other’s safety.” Hermione swallowed, trying to control the unease in her body.

            Fabian moved to argue, but Gideon stopped him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we need answers, Fab.”

            His twin nodded, his jaw clenching. Fabian took a few steps back as Gideon took the bowl and fell inside. Hermione had put only the pertinent memories. Molly of the future, Molly telling her about her brothers over their graves after Fred’s funeral, the fall of Voldemort, Hermione being thrown back in time, the centaurs prophecy. Gideon rose back out, his face pale. A tear rolled down his cheek.

            “Giddy, you alright?”

            “Just go, Fab. Just go,” Gideon said, his voice quiet. He turned away from them, in an odd act of trust, and looked out the window as his brother viewed the memories.

            Fabian fell away after a few moments, stumbling to the floor, his facial expression mearing his twins.

            Gideon turned to them. “You saved us. Why?”

            Hermione swallowed. “A chance. You need… you need to understand. We can’t change the timeline in any way. Molly can’t know that you’re alive, not until its time.”

            Fabian stood, studying his brother. “Seventeen years from now, you mean? Do you want us locked up in this room until then?”

            “No,” Hermione said, honestly. “This entire home is yours now. I know how your family is. I have a plan for you two, when you are ready to hear it, that will allow you to watch over them from a distance.”

            Gideon turned from the window. “Voldemort really dies? The bastard really dies?”

            Severus nodded. “Yes. But time is fickle. Any errors on our part and everything could fall apart.”

            The twins stared at each other and then Fabian turned to Hermione. “Your plan? To save people? You’re going to save little Fred, aren’t you?”

            Hermione felt goosebumps rise on her skin. “With everything in my power, I will try.”

            Gideon and Fabian both nodded, their voices mixing as they looked at the couple. “We’re in.”

            It took less than a day to remove the bars and locks from the Prewitt house. The twins had agreed to every unbreakable vow Severus had thrown at them and Hermione understood. It wasn’t their lives they agreed to it for. It was Fred. For them, little Fred was barely three years old. Knowing that he died because of the war, it was too much for them who loved him (and his brother) dearly and only they understood the depth of bond between twins.

            They ended up being as difficult as the Weasley brothers ever were, though. Hopeless flirts, mischievous vagabonds, they played constant havoc at life in Spinner’s End. They were eventually introduced to the Barne’s family. The Prewitt’s immediately adopted by the children who found their antics hilarious much to the chagrin of Cordelia. It would be fair to say that the red heads argued constantly, but Hermione watched in amusement. It was as if an almost familial bond played part in the relationship that formed. The Prewitt brothers and Cordelia were both lost to their families and so they found one with one another. The twins and Cordelia would become as close as siblings in the years to come.

            After a couple weeks, the twins found Hermione in her home.

            “Alright, Miss Granger-Ranger,” Gideon said, using their nickname of her, one of many. “You told us you had a way for us to be out and about.”

            Fabian leaned on the counter, giving her a wink. “We’re looking forward to what great plan your vast, pretty head has found.”

            Hermione took a deep breath in. “Fair enough. Follow me.”

            She took them upstairs to the study and pulled out a notebook, flipping through the pages until she found the one she wanted. Hermione handed it to them.

            “Zonkos?” They said together.

            Hermione nodded. “The original owner plans to sell.” She handed them one of the future Daily Prophets. “There was an op-ed after it closed during the Second War. It was bought by a Bilton Blimes, who weirdly enough, doesn’t exist until he buys the place. Look at the picture.”

            Fabian leaned over his brother’s shoulder. “Blimey, he kinda looks like us, doesn’t he?”

            “Big nose, though. Looks more like you, Fabby.”

            “That brown hair, though – eeks. Look better on you, Giddy.”

            Hermione snatched the paper out of their hands. “Enough of that. I want you two to pose as Bilton Blimes and buy Zonkos.”

            Fabian pulled out his pants pockets. “Not exactly rolling in the galleons, are we, though, Harmony?”

            “I will pay for it. You two will have to pose as one person though.”

            Gideon looked at his brother innocently. “We’d have to be identical, Fabby.”

            “Don’t know how to manage that, Giddy. We’d have to be twins.”

            “Oh, good grief,” Hermione groaned. “Do you want to be able to see your family or not?”

            “Of course, Granger-Ranger,” Fabian said. “But how do you want us to keep up a disguise spell like that for so long?”

            “You won’t have to,” she said, smugly. “When I was at college, I attended a film class about make-up artistry. We will dye your hair and use a prosthetic for your noses. That way no spell could possibly hinder it, even if Voldemort, himself, knocked on the door.”

            “She’s a bit scary, isn’t she, Giddy?”

            Fabian nodded, giving her an appraising look. “Sevy told me she was the one who planned our fake deaths using those Death Eaters. Not to be crossed, that one.”

            Hermione crossed her arms. “Are you honestly complaining, right now?”

            Gideon raised his arms, humor in his eyes. “No, no, wouldn’t dare.

            “Good. Then I’ll be heading into town and get what we need.” She began to walk away before spinning on her heels, hands on her hips. “Do not do anything to my house while I’m gone. I swear, if I so much as find one thing out of place…”

            “What do you think,” Fabian said, bemused. “We’re going to burn it down?”

            “Or worse, touch one of my books.” She rushed from the room.

            Gideon grinned. “Did she just indicate touching one of her books was worse than burning her house down.”

            “Has her priorities straight, doesn’t she, Giddy?”

            “Reckon we take a tour, Fabby?”

            “Oh, yes, Giddy. I feel like we must at this point.”

            A child will be born – thrice defied.

            Hermione sat up hard in bed. “Oh, no.”

            Severus stirred, blinking. “What’s wrong.”

            “Oh, no, no. I made a mistake.”

            “Hermione,” Severus muttered, sitting up. It was only two in the morning. “It was just a bad dream.”

            She turned to him. “It wasn’t. Oh, no. I forgot something. Something very important.”

            The last shred of sleep left him. “What did you forget?”

            “The prophecy. You have got to get up… you have to tell Voldemort about the prophecy!”

            Severus straightened in the bed. “I thought you said—”

            “No, I’m such an idiot. I miscalculated. Though…” Her heard started to hurt. “Harry has been born already, and Trelawney gives the vision before he’s born, last Spring. You need to go. Tell the Dark Lord… something. Give him the prophecy as well as you can.” She jumped out of the bed and began pulling on clothes.

            “What are you doing?”

            “I need to find Aberforth. He’s the one who finds you sneaking around and overhearing the prophecy.”

            Severus pushed the blankets off him. “Hermione, you need to breathe.”

            “I can’t. We have to fix this.”

            “I understand that, but… I…” He sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair. “Nevermind. You’re right. I’ll head over to Riddle now.”

            “What will you tell him?”

            “That I overheard a prophecy about a child born last year that’s going to kill him.”

            Hermione breathed out. “Okay.”

            “Do you know what I don’t get,” Severus said, pulling on his robes. “When Trelawney would have given the prophecy, I would have been in Germany.” His mind was clearer now. “There would have been no way I ever heard it.” It only confirmed his wife’s Christmas realization that she was always meant to come back.

            Hermione chewed her bottom lip. “All that matters is that Dumbledore thinks you were there. Which is why I have to find Aberforth. I need to place the memory in his head.”

            “How are you going to do that?”

            “I don’t know. I’ll think about it on the way.”

            Hermione grabbed his collar and kissed him hard. His arms tightened around her as he deepened the kiss. “I love you,” they said together.

            She apparated away into the night once she was outside. Her hand lingered on her growing belly as she got to the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade. Lights still flickered in the place. Good. Stepping inside, she spotted Aberforth immediately. He looked like the poor man’s version of Dumbledore. He was sweeping the tables clean, leaving more crumbs behind than not.

            She cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

            Aberforth raised his heavy brows at her. “What do you want?”

            “I’m Jean. Jean Ranger.” The phoenix magic tickled the air.

            His face clouded for a moment and then he guffawed. “Again, what do you want?”

            “I was in here last Spring and met someone. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.”

            Aberforth’s face twisted into an annoyed scowl, and he pulled his hand over his face. “Girl, get to the point.”

            Hermione locked her eyes with him. “You remember, certainly, don’t you? He was a pale man with long black hair. You were tossing him outside after catching him snooping at a door.”

            His eyes locked on her, as if he were fighting something, his brow furrowing. “Ah, that little bastard. Yes, I remember. I don’t care for snooping.”

            “Of course,” Hermione said kindly. “Especially since you had an important guest that day. Dumbledore, right? I remember seeing him walk out with the new Divination professor.”

            Aberforth frowned and Hermione swallowed hard. “Yes, I recall. And you said you had an interest in that little snoop?”

            “Yes, well, you know how it is… love conquers all.”

            “I don’t know who he is,” Aberforth said gruffly. “But if you do find him, tell him he’s still not welcome.”

            “Of course. Completely understandable.”

            Hermione turned on her heel and walked out the door. She patted her belly. “Yeah, I think mommy’s losing it.” Then her cheeks burned. It was the first time she had referred to herself as ‘mommy’. “Time to go home.” She looked around and hoped no one heard her talking to herself. She needed sleep.

            Severus sat in the living room, waiting for Hermione. His visit to see Voldemort was unremarkable compared to his others. Riddle had listened to what he had to say and then sent him almost immediately away; anyone else would have missed the fear that crossed over the man’s face. Severus took no small pleasure in giving that to him. It had only been after Hermione left that he realized he shouldn’t have had her apparate. He still didn’t like the idea of it while she was pregnant considering how it pulled a person through the naval.

            He heard the distinctive crack outside their home and Hermione walked through the door, looking tired but pleased. She walked over to him at his chair and cradled herself in his lap, cuddling her face into his neck. Severus caressed her hair.

            “It went well?”

            Hermione nodded. “The phoenix magic did its work. I have no doubt when Dumbledore goes to confirm the details Aberforth will tell him about you.”

            “When do you want to do that?”

            “Closer to the time, maybe July,” Hermione said, trying to withhold a yawn. “I think… I think we want to get the Potter’s early October.”

            “Won’t their friends be worried if they just disappear?”

            “They’ll be in hiding at that point.” Hermione pulled back and took one of his hands, her fingers tracing the lines of his hand. “We’re going to need their help to pull this off and time to convince them. You know the problems with our plan, I don’t want to risk something going wrong.”

            Severus leaned back, feeling his own exhaustion hitting him. “You’re right.”

            She felt the tension in his voice. Severus wanted to save Lily and her son, but it was more complicated with James. While he didn’t wish death on the man, working with him was not going to be easy.

            Hermione kissed him lightly. “We can do this, husband. You’re the better man.”

            A smile flickered on his lips. “That is without doubt.”

            “Cad,” she teased. “Now, what?”

            “Sleep. And then prepare for our little one.” His hand cupped her rounding stomach. “Try not to kill the Prewitts.”

            “They hexed your study again?”

            Severus gave her a long-suffering look. “They spelled my potions books to hurl insults at me. Was it really necessary to give them a joke shop? It’s only made their antics worse.”

            “They deserve time with their family, even from afar.”

            “Wife, don’t lie to me. I can see the cogs working in your head. You have found no small amount of amusement that it will be the Weasley twins uncles that inspire their dream of their own joke business.”

            Hermione bit her lips to keep from smiling. “Fine. Molly’s face when she finds out will be something.”

            “You are adding years to that woman’s life,” he chided.

            “She can handle it. Plus, I think it will do her good. Take her mind off her sadness over her brothers.”

            “And think, my beloved wife, if you had married into that family, you could have had twins.” His eyes twinkled at her.

            She shuddered. “Oh, Merlin’s beard. Twins. I can’t imagine even this one.”

            “No doubts going forward?”

            Hermione pinched him. “Oh, yes, many doubts, husband. I can’t believe you are still jealous of Ron when he’s just a baby.”

            “Consider it a lover’s prerogative. I am a highly possessive man after all.”

            “I see. Well,” Hermione said. She moved so she could straddle him, pressing her body into him. “I suppose I’ll have to remind you where my heart lies.”

            His fingers gripped her waist. “I thought you were tired.”

            “So, did I. I guess, you’ll have to find a way to tire me out.”

            Severus smiled against her lips as she pressed them against him. “I think I can manage that.”

            “I love you, husband.”

            “And I, you, wife.”

Chapter Text

            Hermione stepped into Zonko’s, carefully avoiding the crowd of wizards, witches and children bustling about the place. She was six months pregnant, and her belly had swollen to a dangerous level, usually against those that got too close. Gideon had sent her an owl, asking her to come down to the shop, and, reluctantly, she agreed. Hermione had decorated the baby’s room twice now (the first time just hadn’t been ‘right’ as she would tell Severus after he complained) and was desperately bored.

            Gideon saw her and waved. It always made her smile to see the twins in their disguises, more so, when she saw the way they worked around each other. One would disappear, the other would appear, halfway across the store, to the delight of the children who thought it nothing more than an amusing magical trick. It had taken them a bit of time to get used to having brown hair, but eventually they grew accustomed to it. They hadn’t seen the Weasley’s yet, but it wasn’t a surprise. They told her that Molly would be struggling for a while with their ‘deaths’. Though they highly looked forward to the day when they saw would see the little red-headed monsters bobbing into their store.

            “Gideon,” Hermione said, coming up to the man. “I am here, if not altogether present.”

            The man smiled down at her belly. “I can believe it. Molls was always more than a bit… err… out of it during her pregnancies.” His face fell into one of worry. “Fab is upstairs, waiting, to switch out with me. So, we can talk.”

            Hermione frowned after him as he went up the stairs. He was always so quick to smile, so it was rare to see anything but a jovial look over his face. Following him upstairs, she noticed their repairs to the store. The upstairs was mainly a storage area, although they did keep a sleeping area as well for the rush weekends. The previous owner had not kept it up at all; the walls were peeling, the floor had strange stains, but the Prewitt twins had put in their elbow grease. It was quite a different place it had been with clean walls and shining floors.

            Fabian stood once they got upstairs; he had been tinkering with an item. He nodded his greeting to Hermione, squeezed Gideon’s shoulder, and disappeared down the steps.

            “You have me a little worried,” Hermione told Gideon, sitting down at the chair he gestured to.

            He pulled his fingers over his face. “I’m sorry. You know that I appreciate everything that you have done for us, right?” She nodded. “The thing is… before we were ‘killed’--- Ah, man, I don’t know how to say this.” He stood and paced for a moment. “I was dating someone.”

            She blinked. “Really?” It hadn’t even occurred to her that the twins might have lovers.

            Gideon sat down across from her. “We were close. In fact—” His face turned red. “—I was going to introduce her to the family… as my fiancée.”

            “Oh, Gideon, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

            “I’m not surprised,” he said, ruefully. “Only Fab knew.”

            Hermione looked around the room, helplessly. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

            “I know. And the thing was, Fab and I talked about it. I was going to let it go, let her move on, for her sake, but, Hermione, she’s not doing well.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I’ve seen her these last couple months, walking around. Every time I see her, she’s thinner. She looks like she’s lost the will to live and, I think… I think it’s because of my death.” Gideon looked close to tears.

            “Oh, Gideon.”

            “I know it would be an ask, Hermione, maybe more than you can do, but is there anyway we can bring her into it? If she agreed to everything?”

            Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. “I don’t know. I’d need her name, to do my research, and I’ll have to talk to Severus.”

            Gideon nodded. “Her name is Dorcas Meadowes.”

            Her stomach dropped. Her face must have shown her shock.

            “You know her.”

            She nodded, feeling numb. Hermione stood, and Gideon grabbed her arm to help her steady herself. “Yes, I know of her. I need to head home; we’ll talk later, alright?”

            Hermione rushed down the steps and out of the joke shop. Dorcas Meadowes, member of the Order, killed at the end of the year by Voldemort himself.

            It didn’t take long for her and Severus to find the Daily Prophet with the date of Meadowes death. Thank Merlin that the newspaper was so nosy. After the end of the war, they had taken great pains to roll out the information of both decades, detailing in accuracy the failures of Dumbledore, the Order, and the Ministry. At the time, Hermione had been angry with them (she’d had quite enough of their fearmongering and lying at that point), but now it was literally a saving grace.

September 8^th. Meadowes was guarding the Longbottoms, who were in hiding like the Potters, when Death Eaters snatched her. They took her to Voldemort who hoped to press her on the whereabouts of Neville, the other possible child in the prophecy. She was brave and wouldn’t relent. He killed her. The information was only finally released after the new minister’s (Shacklebott) insistence on transparency.

Severus looked at her. “You want to save her, don’t you?”

Hermione leaned back, rubbing her belly, wishing she could put her feet up somewhere. “I think I’ve been too selfish. Just thinking of those in my life who have been hurt.”

“Who else are you thinking?”

She breathed out. “I need to think about it.”

Severus stood and pulled her to her feet. “Well, before you save the world, my love, I’m taking you to our room and drawing you a bath. You need to calm down, rest.” He tugged her into their room and disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, he crouched down and kissed her belly. “You need to take care of yourself as well.”

“You are too good for me.”

He smirked. “Of that, there is no doubt.”

It was June, when Severus’s biggest part came up.

Standing outside of Hogwarts, the man groaned inwardly. Today, he had to be emotional, something he was not keen on. With Hermione it was easy, but this was different. He was going to have to play the part of a lovelorn fool. True, he had loved Lily, maybe even hoped for something more in their school days, but that felt like an eternity ago. He had long put his childish crush aside.

“Master Severus Snape, how good of you to visit,” Dumbledore greeted him warmly in his office. “Or perhaps not?”

Severus gave the man a long look before pacing back and forth. “I have made a terrible mistake, Headmaster. I fear, no, I know, only you can fix it.”

“Sit, Severus,” Dumbledore ordered calmly. “Tell me everything.”

His mental walls carefully placed, Severus dropped into a seat and put his head in his hands, drawing his fingers through his hair. “I know of the prophecy—” Then he told him the carefully constructed lie.

It was true enough that Voldemort had made the connection to the Potters and Longbottom’s. His Death Eaters were already making plans to attack them. Dumbledore listened in silence before the inevitable shoe dropped. It took everything Severus had not to wallop the man as the old man guilt-tripped him. The ease in which the old goat manipulated others was on par with Riddle and Severus agreed to be his spy as well as the new potions professor. Trying to not grit his teeth as he did so. Dumbledore looked almost giddy, the wiry bastard. Moves and countermoves – the man’s favorite game.

As he left, his shoulders hunched, Severus had an irresistible urge to blow something up. He was half-tempted to visit Hagrid, but he knew Dumbledore would be watching him. Once outside the gates, he apparated to Spinner’s End.

It wasn’t fair. It was never fair. Severus, without thought, went to his old bedroom and sat down on the old raggedy bed. His mind wandered to the day of his Sorting, his first day at Hogwarts. He had to sneak out of the house while his mother distracted his drunk father. She had pressed into his hand a mixture of muggle, and wizard money, tears in her eyes even as they flickered into the dark house, heavy with cigarette smoke. “I love you,” was all she said.

Severus, carrying his heavy trunk and an emaciated owl, at only eleven years old travelled to King’s Cross Station by himself. He had been too ashamed to tell Lily he had no way there. He had started to breathe easy as he got on the train. A new life, he had thought, and a friend. Things were finally looking up. The Marauders quickly put him into his place, though. Mocking his second-rate robes, his owl, his thoughts about Houses. He had only considered Slytherin because the few books his mother had (from the Prince family library) were about its greatness.

At the Sorting, everything changed. It was the first time Severus chose the darkness. He had sat on the little stool and the Hat entered his mind. Hmm, a great mind and a strong will, the hat said. Severus’s eyes fell on Lily. She was talking to James and the timid boy, Lupin. Anger stirred in his stomach. I can sense strength from you, yes, a very brave boy. Perhaps Gryffindor for you.

“No,” Severus thought to the hand. “Anything but Gryffindor.” His jaw locked in frustration at his train bullies. He couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in a dorm room with them.

No? Gryffindor would serve you well. Then, perhaps, Ravenclaw. Grow that insatiable quest for knowledge?

Severus’s stomach dropped. The only thing worse than Gryffindor would be a lesser house. He could never keep Lily’s friendship then and those boys would find a new way to mock him. “No, not Ravenclaw, please,” he thought to the Hat.

You are a very impertinent pup, the Hat told him, though Severus thought he heard amusement in its voice. Then Slytherin? I must warn you – power and respect you may find in that house, but not friendship and not love.

“Please,” Severus thought. He watched Sirius Black throw a roll across the room, hitting a Hufflepuff in the back of the head and Black’s friends laughed. He needed to protect Lily.

Beware your pride, young Severus Snape, it may very well be your undoing, the Hat chided. Then in a loud voice it rang through the hall, “Slytherin!”

Head up, Severus jumped off the stool and walked to the Slytherin table. He ignored the mocking faces of the future Marauders. When he sat down, a black-haired girl, third year, leaned over the table. “Snape, Snape, Severus, Snape,” she sang in a sing-song voice. “What blood does the pale boy make?”

An older with platinum hair moved to sit next to him and glared at the girl. “Bellatrix, calm yourself or you’ll fall in the food again. I am Lucious Malfoy,” he said to Severus.

“Sev-Severus.”

“You must have pure-blood in your family or you would not have been sorted into Slytherin.”

Severus swallowed hard. “My mother was a Prince.”

“A Prince. Very nice. Very nice indeed. Oh, yes, I know who you are. Your mother is Eileen Prince. She married a muggle, did she not?”

“He’s a bastard,” Snape said impetuously.

Lucius gave a barking laugh. “A bastard, indeed. I think you will do very well here. Keep that wit about you, though, Princeling.” His eyes fell on Bellatrix who was glaring at him. “It can be like a snake pit, and some have venom.”

Severus nodded, dumbfounded. His stomach twisting.

Bellatrix tossed back her ringlets, her face twisting in a sneer. “Look at what we have here: a half-blood Prince.”

He pulled out his wand under the table, unable to control himself. Severus never could at that age and set fire to her hair. She screamed, falling off the booth and onto the floor, rolling. Lucius calmy cast an augmenti, dousing the fire out. The older boy raised an eyebrow at Severus and Bellatrix.

“Serves you right, Bellatrix,” Lucius scolded her. “Looks like this snake has a bite.” He patted Severus on the shoulder and walked back to his spot.

Snape crossed his arms and defiantly watched the girl. The hall had all but fallen into a quiet hush, watching the exchange. When he dared to look away, his eyes caught Lily’s. Her cheeks were red with shame, and he could almost hear James’s voice wafting across the muffled room. “You’re friends with that slimy git?”

He stared down at the table and cursed at the tears that were threatening to fall. Pride, indeed. If he had just chosen Gryffindor he would have been with Lily. He wouldn’t have to deal with Bellatrix and any of that pure-blood nonsense. The hat was right. He would be friendless and Lily, his only friend, was further away than ever. Severus bit the inside of his cheek until he felt blood rush to it. He had escaped one horror, only to find himself in another. Well, he was used to horrible, wasn’t he? Severus hadn’t cried last year when his dad broke his arm. He wouldn’t cry now. He’d prove them wrong. He’d prove them all wrong.

Severus shook away his musings, back in the present, and stood. It did no good to dwell on his past. Then he chuckled. When had he forgiven himself for his youthful errors? Hermione’s presence once again, he supposed. Maybe once he would have fallen into depression, hating himself for never being good enough, but in a short time, he would be a father. He had a wife who loved him and believed in him. He wasn’t eleven anymore. Dumbledore’s words fell away from his mind and Severus walked from the room to find Hermione.

Chapter Text

Severus, Hagrid and the Prewitt twins were sweating by the time the last of the Death Eaters apparated away from the house. They’d had little notice of the attack and the last twelve hours had been spent finding unsuspecting and unknown bad guys to replace the McKinnon family, which ended up being a startingly six of them. Marlene’s parents, her siblings and Marlene

      Fabian took a deep breath in. “That was way too close.”

      Severus gave an annoyed side-eye at the man. Inside, he agreed, but his loyalty to Hermione kept him from doing so. Two weeks ago, she had started to go through the Daily Prophet’s hoping to find others she could save, but she fell ill. Her pregnancy was too far along, and the stress had finally gotten to her. Cordelia pushed that she immediately start bed rest. Severus had to all but lock her into her room to make sure that she didn’t try to do anything else.

      The McKinnon’s had been one of a few on her list, but the Daily Prophet hadn’t yet done their expose on them. All she knew was that they were killed by Death Eaters in July. Severus had the unfortunate reality that it ended up being on the first; if he had been late to the Death Eater meeting, he would have missed the exchange entirely and the McKinnon family would have been slaughtered. Instead, he had gotten help from the others finding the unknown Death Eaters (and a couple less than savory outside of it) before it was time.

      Gideon wiped his brow. “Let’s head back to the Portkey.”

      “Worried about ya’ lady friend,” Hagrid grunted, giving him a smile.

      The twin rolled his eyes. “Nah, but the McKinnon’s won’t be unconscious for long, and Dorcas isn’t known for her bedside manner.”

      They all walked to where the makeshift portkey was, about a mile away, hidden inside a heavily wooded area. Dorcas was pacing, six prone bodies floating around her. Her eyes widened when she saw them, her chocolate skin beaming in the night sky. She ran down to Gideon and hugged him tightly. She was still wan from her grieving, and Dorcas always looked a bit paranoid, as if she was always afraid it had been a dream. Though, it was hard to say with the foul-mouthed witch, Meadowes was awkward with emotions in general.

      The decision to bring Dorcas in before her death had been Hermione’s. Gideon was beside himself with worry for his lover, and Hermione (prone to bouts of heavy crying now in her last trimester) couldn’t bear to see it. It had been an emotional meeting. The two of them cried in each other’s arms for a long while; finally, though, Meadowes had calmed down enough to hear the story. Like Gideon and his brother, she swore to every unbreakable vow that was thrown at her. She gave up everything. Her home, her family, her life; if it only meant that she was with Gideon. Their marriage was planned for late July, another muggle wedding. Two dead people couldn’t exactly appear in the records department of the Ministry.

      “I was worried when you didn’t come back right away,” Dorcas said.

      Severus raised an eyebrow. “You try to convince a grown man that he is a fifteen-year-old girl, imperius or not.”

      Dorcas nodded, slowly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with that part of it, to be honest.”

      Severus wanted to retort that she didn’t need to be okay with it, but instead, he felt a bout of pity for the woman. “It’s not ideal. It bore Hermione no great pleasure when she came up with this plan; but it was either them or all of you.” His eyes fell on the very young siblings of Marlene. “I will take the murder of a Death Eater over that of a child any day.”

      Dorcas’s eyes hardened, her fists clenching. “Damn straight,” she said vehemently. Her fingers clenched Gideon’s robes. “You’re right, Severus. I just can’t believe…” She sighed. “I couldn’t believe the progress you two have made. I thought Dumbledore was the good guy, but when I saw those memories, it was like a punch to the gut. Just a little bit of offense and so many lives could be saved and, yet, he had us sitting on our asses when we should have been out there.”

      They gathered around the portkey, each taking an ankle of one of the stupefied family. They were pulled back into Spinner’s End to one of the houses they were calling the ‘Transition House’. Like the Prewitt twins house had been, each room was guarded by muggle and magical means. The Pensieve was in the main room and a locked cabinet held certain pertinent memories. When they arrived, one of the Barne’s children was waiting. It was one of the girls, nine.

      Severus frowned at her. “Why are you here?”

      “Papa said I needed to wait for you.”

      Fabian looked at Severus and back to the girl. “What’s wrong, Vicky?”

      Vicky swung her arms back and forth. “Aunt Hermione is having her baby.”

      Hermione panted, sweat and tears mingling down her face. An hour. One hour after Severus and the others had left, her water had broken. For way too long, she stared down at the liquid pooling at her feet, wondering what was going on. During the pregnancy, she’d had so many awkward things occur, that her mind wondered if she had peed herself. Then, it hit her. Taking the phone off the hook, she called Cordelia.

      Within ten minutes, she was in the shower as Cordelia and her husband prepared the bed. They had considered going to the hospital, but eighties medical care was not the greatest and they didn’t want to risk anything magical happening while they were there. Especially during the pregnancy, Hermione’s hair had a bad tendency to start fritzing like she was electrified. They also had magical means to help them. Of course, that was when they had thought one of the other wizards or the witch would be there to help them.

      Thirteen hours Hermione labored. She was almost completely dilated and effaced, but her body was tired. The pain of the contractions had exhausted her beyond belief. Cordelia and Fredrick exchanged worried glances.

      “What’s wrong,” Hermione panted.

      Cordelia patted her arm, then quickly resumed massaging Hermione’s back. “The baby is breach.”

      The pregnant woman sucked in her breath. “What… what are we going to do?”

      “If they don’t get here soon, we’re going to have to call an ambulance. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have the experience to correct this.”

      Fredrick gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s nah worries, Hermione. Me and Delia, we’ll make sure nut’n happens to you or the baby.”

      The door swung open. Severus’s black robes sweeping into the room, along with Dorcas. The black woman immediately pulled Cordelia aside to find out the details. Severus sat down on the bed, pulling Hermione’s head into his chest.

      “I’m sorry, I should have been here.”

      “Are the… Ravenclaw’s tits, it hurts… the McKinnon’s safe?”

      Dorcas crawled onto the bed, kneeling over Hermione’s stomach. “They’re safe. Now let’s make sure you and your baby are, okay?” The woman cracked her fingers. “The spell is easy enough to turn the baby, just give me a minute. I’m better at dueling then I am midwifing. Mam would be so proud.” Her wand hand hovered over Hermione’s belly as she muttered the spell. “Merlin’s balls,” she smirked. “That’s a big baby. No wonder you looked like you swallowed a few crystal balls.”

      Hermione gasped in pain. “Not helping, Dorcas.”

      Cordelia moved between Hermione’s legs, staring down. “I can see the head. Great job. Wow, look at that hair!” Cordelia braced Hermione’s legs up, all but tossing them over her shoulders. Fredrick, being sure to avoid the pregnant woman’s private area, helped. “It’s time to push.”

      “I don’t know if I can,” Hermione cried. “I’m so tired.”

      Severus threw the pillows behind her aside and moved behind her, cradling her. “I’m right here, Hermione. We will do this together, like we always do.”

      A contraction hit and Hermione screamed in pain. Severus intertwined their fingers, and she squeezed around them tightly; she leaned forward, pushing with everything she had. Seconds passed and she collapsed against his chest.

      “Great job,” Cordelia said. “The head is almost there. It’s black hair, Hermione. Your child has a head full of black hair.”

      “Really?” Hermione felt her heart twist.

      “See,” Severus murmured in her ear. “Our child is waiting. You want to meet him or her, don’t you?”

      “Yes, yes!” Hermione steeled herself, feeling her stomach tighten. She leaned forward as the contraction came and pushed with everything she had. It felt like her bottom half exploded with pain and then relief flooded through her body as the baby slipped out.

      Cordelia wrapped the baby up as it wailed angrily. “Want the honors, dad?”

      Severus gaped as Dorcas helped steady Hermione as he moved numbly over to where Cordelia crouched. Fredrick handed him a scissors, a grin on his face. “Way to go, Severus.”

      The blanket was moved slightly and his heart swelled. “Hermione,” he said breathlessly. He looked at her. “It’s a boy. We have a son.”

      Hermione smiled weakly. “Can I see him?”

      Once the umbilical cord was cut, Cordelia handed Severus the baby boy who almost immediately calmed once in his arms. Gold eyes stared at him in wonder. Severus felt like a weight landed on his stomach as he sat down on the bed, handing the boy over to his wife. Hermione pulled the child close.

      “We made this,” Hermione whispered. “Look at him, Severus. He looks like us.” It was true. The baby had Severus’s black hair and Hermione’s golden eyes.

      “What is his name,” Dorcas asked. The Order member was staring in amazement at the child as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened.

      Severus and Hermione exchanged a look. “What do you think,” Severus asked, his fingers gently caressing the baby’s soft face, raising an eyebrow as the child thrust a fist out grabbing his finger, holding it tightly.

      “Septimus…” Hermione said, quietly. Severus nodded his approval, kissing her forehead.

      Cordelia, with Fredrick’s arm around her, wiped a few tears off her face. “Ahh, Septimus Snape. That works so nicely.” She looked at her husband. “I want another one.”

      Fredrick squeezed Cordelia’s shoulders. “We are goin’ to head out o’ here before we have our own Septimus if ya’ get my meaning’.”

      Cordelia gave Severus, Hermione and little Septimus a kiss before following her husband out. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to see how you three are.”

      Dorcas looked at the doorway. “I’ve gotten you all cleaned up down there, but you’ll want to avoid moving for a little bit. I’m going to see Gideon, give him the news.”

      Hermione glanced up, reluctant to look away from Septimus for even a second. “Thank you, Dorcas. You have no idea, truly. Thank you.”

      Dorcas shuffled her feet. “It was nothing. Not after what you did for me and Gid. Enjoy your sleepless nights, you two.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

      Severus shifted the pillows so they could both lay together on the bed. Hermione shifted the baby, so it was cradled between them. “He’s amazing, absolutely amazing.”

      “Cordelia was right. When I first realized I was pregnant, she told me I didn’t understand love. I get it now. This is ours, Severus, this tiny, precious little thing.”

      “And we will protect him.”

      Hermione pressed into Severus. “At least a little good news…”

      “And what’s that?”

      “Only a few months and Voldemort poofs himself for eleven years.”

      Severus put his arm around her. “If nothing else I can take satisfaction in him crawling along the forest ground like a worm.”

      Hermione chuckled. “Feeling saucy, husband?”

      “I’m a father now, wife. I’m going to take great satisfaction in Riddle’s suffering as long as it means my child is safe.”

      “I agree. I love you, Severus.”

      “I love you,” Severus said. He leaned down and kissed his son on the forehead. “And you, Septimus Snape.”

Chapter Text

      Severus and Hermione waited in the alley behind Zonkos, watching from the shadows, as passerby rushed past them. A man with a stroller strolled past, a large shaggy dog at his side. He seemed to be talking to the beast and Hermione had to roll her eyes, rubbing her forehead.

      “I can’t believe it.”

      Severus huffed. “I’m not. The Marauders were never known for their subtlety.”

      Hermione breathed out as Fabian came up behind them. “It’s him, isn’t it? James Potter?” The man leaned against the wall.

      “It is. He’s polyjuiced and the dog is Sirius Black,” Hermione told him.

      “I thought so. Severus, you were right.”

      The man in question shrugged. “Following the rules were never their strong suit.”

      “I can’t believe Lily would let him take Harry out like this,” Hermione said. All of their friends had been briefed on the victims they were going to try and save. Fabian had recognized little Harry from Hermione’s memories and called the couple to prove it.

      Severus looked at his wife. “What do you want to do?”

      “I would have preferred Lily, but this is a golden opportunity. Only if Sirius leaves though, though. You should go back to the shop, Fabian.”

      Fabian grimaced. “Are you sure, because I would be completely willing to help—”

      “I know you’re bored with Gideon on his honeymoon, but it’s important the shop still runs. Didn’t you say Arthur finally brought the kids in?”

      “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “It’s just so tedious having to work actual full shifts. I’d take diaper duty with Sept over it.”

      Hermione laughed. “Any time you want, Fabian. Any time.”

      They waved goodbye to him as he disappeared into a side door back to the shop. Gideon and Dorcas had left on their honeymoon a few days before, just as August rolled around. They would still be gone for another week to the Bahamas. Hermione’s gift to them. Severus and Hermione watched for an hour as James, Sirius and Harry dipped into shops. It soon became clear why. Everything James bought was presents for his son.

      “They must not have been able to get anything for him before they were put into hiding,” Hermione surmised.

      “But to be as bold as to risk Harry’s life,” Severus sneered.

      Hermione sighed. “You’re right. I can’t even imagine risking Septimus.” Their son was home with ‘Uncle’ Hagrid who wanted to spend time with the boy before the school year started; they had named their friend godfather. Hagrid had cried for an hour when they told him; plus, the baby liked him. Barely a month old, Septimus would sleep the hardest on the big burly man. Their only fear had been that he would fall off or get lost in the massive coat, but they needn’t have worried. Hagrid’s years taking care of small and strange creatures had made him a careful babysitter. The baby so much as shifted, his hand was right there making sure he was okay.

      Their opportunity came when the friends walked out of Hogsmeade and separated. The dog-Sirius disappeared behind a tree, followed by a crack of apparation. James gathered Harry in his arms, about to do the same, when the stupefy hit him. Hermione lunged forward where she had been disillusioned and grabbed Harry. Her best friend, sans minus seventeen years, cried. She took off the spell so he could see her.

      “It’s okay, Harry,” she soothed.

      The boy with the messy black hair blinked at her and looked around. Gripping her shoulder, he kicked his feet, wanting down.

      “Not yet, sweetheart.” Hermione looked at Severus. “Take James to the Transition house.”

      Severus clenched his jaw. “I don’t like this, Hermione.”

      She caressed his cheek. “This is our best chance. Have Hagrid or Fabian deal with James when he wakes up. I don’t think he’ll be happy to see you.”

      “Like I am,” he muttered. Severus shoved James’s prone body up, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. “Your dad is an idiot,” he told Harry. The boy giggled and waved a chunky hand at the two men, earning a bemused grin from Severus. “Hopefully, your mother has more sense.” He apparated him and James away.

      Hermione adjusted the boy, grabbing the stroller that was heavy laden with bags. She minimized it and shoved it into her beaded bag before smiling down at the boy. “You want to see mommy?”

      Little Harry smiled and jumped excitedly in her arms. “Ma, ma, ma.”

      “Yep, mama.”

      Hermione apparated them away to Godric’s Hollow.

      Hermione walked down the streets of Godric’s Hollow. She hadn’t been there since that fateful Christmas Eve, several years ago now. The woman almost walked right past the house, but Harry squirmed in her arms, and she realized that it was spelled so it was hidden from sight. Biting her lip, she hoped she was right that Harry would be allowed through the barriers. A wall of shining light shimmered as she stepped closer and then nothing.

      The house appeared in front of the pair, followed very quickly, by a very panicked and angry Lily Potter. She stormed out of the house, red hair flying behind her. Her wand was out, aimed at Hermione.

      “Who the hell are you and why do you have my son?”

      Hermione set down a squirming Harry who hobbled over to his mother. Lily sank to her knees and buried her face in his neck. The boy squealed in delight then pointed at Hermione, jabbering.

      “I don’t mean any harm,” Hermione said, raising her hands. “I just want to talk.”

      Lily stood, holding her son tightly in her arms. “Is…” she took a shaky breath. “Is James dead?”

      “He’s fine. He’s safe.”

      “He won’t be,” Lily fumed, her green eyes flashing. “Took Harry when I was taking a nap. I’m going to kill that bastard!” She looked at the woman in front of her. “Who are you?”

      “Maybe we should speak inside. I’m sure you have Order members watching you and what I have to say shouldn’t be overheard.”

      Lily snorted. “Oh, yeah, sure. One walks by like every two hours. Come in.”

      “You’re going to trust me?” Hermione was honestly surprised.

      “If you were with you-know-who you wouldn’t have brought my son back.”

      Hermione nodded in consent and followed the woman inside. Lily set Harry down at a mass of toys and went into the kitchen to make tea. Hermione followed her.

      Lily breathed out, pulling her long hair back into a bun. “So, what is your name?”

      “Actually, it might be better if I don’t say until you hear what I’m going to tell you.”

      “Then say it,” Lily said, shortly. “I’ve had it up to here with warnings and threats. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in two months.”

      Hermione took a deep breath in. “Dumbledore is going to fail to protect you. On Halloween, a friend is going to betray you to Voldemort, and he is going to kill you and James.”

      Lily’s hands froze on the teacups she was picking up. Her face went pale as she turned to look at Hermione. “How could you know that?”

      Undeterred Hermione pushed forward. “Harry is going to grow up an orphan, raised by Petunia who will treat him worse than a gutter rat. His entire teenage years he will be used as a pawn by Dumbledore to defeat the Dark Lord, going through hell, and losing more than you can imagine.”

      Lily stared at her as if she had grown two heads. “Are you a seer?”

      “No, but I can show you how I know this. If you’ll come with me.” Hermione handed her a photo. It was a rare photo taken at Grimmauld Place before Sirius’s death. It had the entire group; Sirius, Remus, Harry, Ron and his entire family, Mad-Eye, Tonks. They were laughing over Harry as he blew out his candles on his cake.

      Lily’s fingers shook as she gawked at the photo. Tears began to run down her face; a finger traced over her future son’s face. “It’s a lie,” she murmured, but Hermione could hear in her voice she didn’t really believe that.

      “It’s not, but I have a plan. It’s a risk and I’m not sure that I can pull this one off, but I want to try.”

      Lily sat down at the kitchen table. “This girl… she looks like you.” Her green eyes scrutinized Hermione.

      “Because it is me,” Hermione told her, sitting down next to her, taking the photo. “I was, am, one of Harry’s best friends. This was, gosh, almost six years ago for me.”

      “I don’t understand, how could—”

      “I have a pensieve where I’m going to take you. I’d prefer for you to see the memories straight from the source.”

      “Is that where my husband is?”

      Hermione nodded. “Like I said, he’s safe.”

      “Did you drawl him out?”

      “No, but a friend told us he was wondering around Diagon Alley. He was with Sirius.”

      Lily scowled. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill the both of them.” She stood and walked into the living room. “I need to get his diaper bag ready, then we can go.”

      “You’re really okay with this,” Hermione said.

      Lily looked at her son. “I have had horrible dreams, so vivid that I’ve almost lost sense of reality. In every dream, you-know-who is standing over my son and I’m defenseless. I can’t do a damn thing. It’s in that moment I realize I’m dead, and I have failed my son.”

      Hermione closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

      “It’s not a dream, is it?”

      “No, it’s not.”

      Lily nodded; exhaustion spread across her face. “I knew it. Let’s go and see these memories.”

      They apparated away ten minutes later. Hermione brought them directly to the main room of the Transition House. “Will you let me take Harry while you view the memories?”

      Lily looked at her hesitantly.

      “It’s alright. I understand, completely. Perhaps an old friend?” Hermione whistled and Fabian tromped down the steps.

      Lily gasped as the man in front of her smirked. “Hey, Lils. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

      “You’re dead.”

      Fabian walked forward, pulling into a hug. “People keep telling me that,” he joked. “It’s a long story, one you’ll understand better once you see her memories.”

      “Gideon?”

      “On his honeymoon.” She opened her mouth, but he shook his head. “After. What did you need, ma’am?”

      Hermione rolled her eyes. “Can you take Harry?”

      “Of course. Godric, what are you feeding this kid, Lils,” he asked as he took the little boy.

      “He has an appetite like James.”

      “Poor thing, doesn’t stand a chance.” He looked at Hermione. “I’ll take him to the spare upstairs so I can keep an ear on James.”

      Hermione handed him her beaded bag. “There’s some toys and stuff that James brought in there that Harry can play with.”

      “Ooh, the fabled bag.” Fabian held it in his open hand like it was a sacred chalice. “Look at this, Harry-warry. I’ve heard she has the whole of Wales in here.”

      Lily watched as Fabian and her son disappeared upstairs. “Okay, let’s do this.”

      Hermione went to the cabinet and pulled the memories, dumping them one at a time into the basin. Once she was done, she nodded at Lily who dunked her head in despite the clear fear she was feeling. This was the longest anyone had ever viewed. Hermione had chosen carefully for this moment. Memories with Harry, him talk about his life with the Dursleys, his battles with the Dark Lord, him explaining the things that Dumbledore told him about his parent’s deaths, about what Harry was. She showed Lily how amazing her son was; how smart, kind and brave. How he would defeat Voldemort. Then Hermione showed her how she came back in time; this was the hardest part. Her relationship with Severus, how he had chosen to help her, risking everything in the hopes that they could protect those lost to the war.

      Lily pulled out of the water almost two hours later. Her face was swollen from crying; she shakily sat down at a chair that sat on the opposite side of the room. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

      Hermione waited patiently, though she was anxious to get back to her son. Her breasts were getting to be painfully full of breast milk.

      Finally, Lily looked at Hermione. “I have a thousand questions, but, I suppose, the main one: after this is all done, if you succeed with your plan, can I kill my sister?”

      Hermione laughed in surprise. “Sure. Look, let’s get Harry and we can talk more at my home. I…” She gestured to her chest. “My son is past his time for feeding.”

      “Your son? So, you and Sev, you had a kid?” Lily shook her head, smiling sadly. “I have regretted what I did, not forgiving him. I acted like a prissy little brat. When the war started getting bad, I realized how stupid I had been. One stupid word said in anger versus people being slaughtered in the streets. It puts things into perspective.”

      “I won’t say it doesn’t make me a bit angry,” Hermione admitted. “But yes, to your question. We’re married, and we had a son about a month ago. His name is Septimus.”

      Lily smiled. “Septimus. Maybe our sons can be friends, huh?” They walked up the steps. “You wouldn’t be a good wife if you didn’t defend your husband.”

      They were walking past a door when it banged, and a man grunted.

      “My husband,” Lily asked.

      Hermione nodded.

      “Good, let him suffer for a while. Taking my son out when he literally has a price on his head.”

      Hermione chuckled. “What about defending your husband?”

      Lily looked at the door. “When you risk the life of my son? He’ll be lucky if I don’t toss him to the street.” She stopped for a moment. “Hermione, I have a feeling you and I will be having a few private discussions, won’t we?”

      Hermione looked away. “Yes.”

      “I want to tell you,” Lily said, putting a hand on Hermione’s arm. “No, I want to assure you, my son’s life is all that matters. His entire life; his happiness, his welfare. If things don’t go according to plan, make sure he has a better life than the one I saw. Promise me.”

      Hermione felt tears burn in her eyes. “On my life, Lily Potter.”

      “Then we understand each other. Mother to mother.”

      They stared at each other in the hallway. They both knew.

      Lily Potter may not survive.

Chapter Text

            When Lily, Hermione and Harry stepped into the house, Severus and Hagrid automatically stood from their perches in the living room. Septimus was in Severus’s arms, whining. Hermione immediately strode forward and took him, then turned to Lily.

            “You remember Hagrid, don’t you, Lily?”

            Lily smiled wanly. “I do. It’s good to see you.”

            “And ya. Always wa’ kind ta me.” Hagrid looked from Lily to Severus, noticing how the air around the room had shifted. “’Ermione, I’m goin’ to head back to the castle.” 

            They all said their goodbyes and Hagrid disappeared after grabbing a large mug on the table. It was a portkey. Severus had begun to create them to make transportation easier for the big man. It had also made other things easier for their quest; Hermione had already started to work out plans on how to use them in the future.

            Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. “I am going to go upstairs and feed Sept.”

            Severus looked panicked as he was left alone with Lily. He clenched his jaw. “So, you know everything.”

            Lily breathed out and bowed her head. “Severus, I am the worst friend in the entire world. I was so selfish and foolish. I should have forgiven you when you called me a mudblood, but I just… I thought I knew everything. That the lines were so clear.” She chuckled, pulling her hair out of its bun. “No, that’s not true. I wanted to fit in. I liked fitting in. Everyone told me that I should hate you because you were different, because you weren’t handsome like others were, because you were smart in a way that scared them. And I listened to them. After the fourth funeral I attended last year, I realized how stupid I was. You were just a kid, trying to find his own way, and I pushed you away. I am so sorry.”

            Severus leaned his head back. “Lily, I had so many things I wanted to say to you. None of it good.” He frowned at her. “I’m not the same man I was and that is thanks to Hermione. I don’t have the energy to hate you anymore, but I can’t forget the past.”

            Lily flinched and Harry wiggled in her arms. “I understand.”

            “I think it would be best if we just start over. From this moment, as adults, and the individuals we are now. Our children deserve that.”

            “Really? You mean it? Oh, Severus, absolutely!” She bounced Harry in his arms. “Did you hear that, you’re going to have the best man in the world in your life now.”

            Severus raised an eyebrow. “What about James?”

            “James can eat slugs!” Lily growled angrily. “It is going to take a very long time for him to earn that title back.”

            “I’m glad that more than one sense has returned.”

            “Oh, I would have hated you for that, Sev, but after today? Taking Harry out to Diagon Alley with you-know-who. Oooh, I am so angry.”

            Severus smirked. “I remember that anger. I almost pity James.”

            “Are you sure you want to do this,” Hermione asked again.

            Lily cracked her fingers. “This will be easier, trust me.” The red-haired woman walked up the stairs in the Transition House where her husband was.

 Fabian, Marlene McKinnon, Severus and Hermione all waited in the Pensieve room. They heard the door open and a startled, “Lily!?” then her voice rung through the house.

“James Potter, you son of a bitch! You stole my son to go shopping? Shopping?” They all heard James trying to argue, there was a loud bang.

“Don’t hit! Lily. I’m sorry. Stop!”

“I will hit you if I want to hit you,” Lily screamed.

Marlene looked at Hermione. “Should we be worried?”

“I’m not sure to be honest,” Hermione chuckled. “I never realized Lily had this side of her.”

“And you will not be getting any for a very long time,” Lily yelled, followed by another loud bang. “In fact, I don’t want to see you anywhere near my bed. You want to play with Sirius that bad then you can sleep in a doghouse!”

For a moment there was nothing but hushed conversation with occasionally Lily screaming a profanity at him. Then there was noise at the top of the stairs. Lily stalked down holding a very distressed James by his ear, yanking him down the stairs. The man tried to straighten when he saw all of them, but Lily wouldn’t let go. She pushed him at the pensieve.

James’s eyes fell on Severus. “What’s the slinky git doing here?” Lily hit him in the head hard.

“Pensieve now, James Potter, or I swear to Merlin, I will divorce you.”

He looked from his wife to Severus, as if debating whether to listen or to harass Severus, then reluctantly obeyed. He was gone almost as long as Lily. The memories he was shown only slightly different than what his wife had seen. James stumbled back from the stone basin. The group looked at him expectantly.

James wiped his face. His eyes fell on Severus, before anyone could stop him, he rushed forward, all but tackling the man in a deep hug. “You… you… you’re the best man there ever was.” Hermione had shown him, in detail how Severus would protect Harry in the future, ending in his own ‘death’. James pulled back, wiping tears from his face. “I’m sorry for everything I did, because,” he sobbed, wiping his tears. “Because, you still protected my son, despite all of it. Fuck Dumbledore, Severus, you are the greatest wizard that ever lived, the greatest man.”

Lily crossed her arms as Hermione came up next to her. “Did you know this was going to happen?”

Lily snorted. “He’s the world biggest softie, except when he gets around Sirius. Cried like this when Harry was born. And the first time we kissed. And when I accepted his proposal, not that he could get a word out, he was crying so hard.”

“I can’t believe it,” Hermione said.

“Believe it. I don’t wear the pants because I want to; James has the emotional range of a prepubescent girl.”

“And you like that?”

“We make a good balance. My anger, his tears. It makes us a very good team together,” Lily told her.

Severus was giving them a pained look. “Can you get him off of me?”

“James, that’s enough,” Lily chided.

“But he…”

“Yes, I know, dear, but why don’t you stop before I have to buy you a dress?”

James straightened. “How could I marry such a mean woman?”

“Because you love me. Now, I think we have been gone from home long enough. We don’t want to draw suspicion. Am I right, Severus?”

The man nodded. “We need to make the Unbreakable Vows, first.”

James’s brow furrowed. “Is that necessary? We’d never do anything to risk Harry.”

Lily scowled and he went quiet. “We will do whatever they ask, because they are doing whatever they can to protect our son and us.”

“Yes, Lily.”

It was a couple weeks later that Lily sat down in the study of Hermione’s room. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

Hermione leaned back in the office chair. “I don’t want to lie to you. You should know the whole truth.”

“Tell me.”

“Our plan for you two. It’s easy enough to save James. We will do what we always do, but you’re different.”

“Because my love is what saves Harry and ensures that Voldemort is put into remission.”

The room was heavy with silence.

“I have to die, don’t I?” Lily stood and went to a bookshelf, her fingers floating along the spines.

Hermione followed her, feeling as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “It’s likely. I have one plan. It’s crazy though and there are so many factors that could go horribly wrong.”

Lily nodded. “What can I expect, Hermione? No one survives the Killing Curse.”

“Will you tell James?”

“No. If your plan doesn’t work, then we can’t risk him doing something stupid. Harry should have at least one of his parents.”

Hermione felt tears pricking her eyes. “My plan might work.”

“What is the percentage? What is the likelihood that I will… I will see my son grow up?” Lily’s voice cracked.

“One percent.”

Lily gasped as a sob hit her. “I don’t want to die, Hermione. I want to see my son grow up to be that man you showed me. I want to see my grandbabies.”

Hermione pulled the woman into her arms as she cried so hard it wracked her body. Any words she could say would have fallen short; what could Hermione tell a woman marked for death? Just the thought of being in Lily’s shoes, of having to say goodbye to Septimus, broke her heart. Lily sobbed into Hermione for a while.

An hour later, a subdued Lily and Hermione sat by the fire. “I wanted more kids,” Lily said, finally.

Hermione clenched her fists, pain thrumming in her heart. “Lily.”

“We were going to start trying once Harry was potty-trained.”

“There’s still a chance you will, Lily.”

Lily chuckled darkly. “A one percent chance, Hermione?”

“I know it seems like nothing, but everything Severus and I have done have been similar odds. Look at what we’ve done, who we have saved.”

“I couldn’t believe it when Gideon and Dorcas came back,” Lily admitted. “They’re so happy. And the McKinnon family? Marlene’s youngest sibling is twelve and he’ll be able to grow up now.”

Hermione smiled. “It’s strange. I feel like Severus, and I have opened up a home for wayward children.”

“Except it’s families and an entire street.”

Lily leaned back. “So, when are you going to tell Severus that you sold your holographic technology to NASA and that’s how you made all your money?”

“Right around the time, I tell him of the retirement house I bought in America.”

The woman snorted. “I think I respect you more everyday. Is he still worried he’ll really die in the future?”

“He doesn’t talk about it, but yes.”

“Foolish man. Clearly, he underestimates how much you love him.”

Hermione blushed. “Always.”

“I’m glad he found you, Hermione. He deserved someone amazing like you who’d burn the world just for him.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far, but, the sentiment is right.”

“Look, I still have a lot of growing up to do, but I accept that I wasn’t the friend I always believed I was. I lost that innocent part of me that could look past how someone looked or choose someone even if it didn’t make me popular. I failed and as long as I’m alive I’ll try to make that up to Sev. He deserves that much.”

Hermione gave her a reassuring smile and took a breath in. “So, do you want to hear the one percent chance?”

Lily twirled her hair in her hands. “Okay, but it’s between you and me.”

      “Agreed.”

      “So, what is the great Hermione Granger’s plan to save my life?”

      Hermione looked at her for a long moment. “We’re going to steal the resurrection stone.”

Chapter Text

Hermione laid down on her bed, groaning. A moment later the door opened, and Severus walked in, laying down beside her. She cuddled up against his side. It felt like it had been so long since they had a moment to just be by themselves. It was a bittersweet feeling; Severus would be leaving in a day to go to Hogwarts to start his first year as the potions professor.

      “Worried,” she asked him.

      He grunted. “Of teenagers? No.” Severus flicked his hair from his face. “Of pretending to be Dumbledore’s lap dog. A bit. It is obnoxious enough bowing down to Riddle, but at least I know the reason behind it. There’s purpose. Pretending that I am a cowed ally of that old man is another story entirely.”

      Hermione grimaced. “I don’t think you’ll have to pretend that much. I mean, you were always grumpy and snarky.”

      “Ah, so my usual self?”

      She tickled at his ribs, and he rolled his eyes at her. Severus Snape did not stoop himself to being ticklish. “You are not like that. Not really. Maybe you aren’t rainbows and sunshine, but you are still a good man.”

      “It’s hard to feel like that,” Severus said, frowning at the ceiling. “I don’t want to leave here. The thought of missing even a second of Septimus’s life – especially now. All his firsts are coming, and I will probably not see them.”

      Hermione swallowed hard. “I know. I’ll video everything I can; it’s not the same, but we are so close, Severus.”

      “Does Lily know her odds?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’m sorry. Lily and I… we have a long way to go. I doubt we will ever be friends as we were, but I wanted to make sure…” Severus sighed.

      “You wanted to make sure she knew you forgave her, just in case,” Hermione finished. “This is the one moment that I wish I knew this side. What if I fail? What if Harry loses his mother anyway?”

      Severus squeezed her tight. “You will do everything you can, Hermione. Everything. You’ve already done so much.”

      “It’s never going to feel like enough. Every name that appears in the Daily Prophet, a new death, I wonder if I could have done something.”

      “You can’t stop all the evil in this world, my love.”

      Hermione buried her head in his chest, throwing her leg over him. “I wish I could. For us. For Septimus. For our friends. So much suffering and pain because of a power-hungry madman.”

      “We’re talking about Riddle, right?”

      Hermione guffawed into his robes. “Both of them. They’re like two sides of a coin.”

      “Enough,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t want to talk about them or the future. This is our last night together for a while. I want to be with you.”

      She looked up and kissed him. He rolled her onto her back, caressing her cheek. “Always, husband.”

      “Even when I’m your snarky professor?”

      “Especially then,” Hermione laughed.

      “Lech.” Severus nibbled down her neck.

      She gasped as his hands roamed over her body. “If I am lech, then you definitely are. Floating fantasies of me as a student. Tut, tut, Professor Snape.”

      He pulled his head back and gave her a withering glare. “Truly, wife, I have the excuse that I have only known you as an adult. My fantasy is perfectly innocent compared to your ogling of a man twenty years your senior.”

      Hermione pursed her lips. “Nineteen.”

      “Yes, that one year makes such a difference, wife,” he said dryly.

      “Does it make a difference to you?”

      Severus smirked. “Ah, yes. You mean, you being a year older than I am? No, love, I don’t mind at all being married to an older woman.”

      Hermione snorted. “Kiss me, husband, before I change my mind, and I have you join James Potter in his doghouse.”

      “You would never.” His black eyes sparkled.

      She sighed. “No, I never would, because it would be as much punishment for me as you.”

      Severus kissed her deeply. “To the days when we are never apart.”

      “Don’t we need champagne if you are going to make a toast like that?”

      “You are the only imbibement I need, Hermione. I don’t need anything else to make my life better. Just you and our son. My perfect family.”

      Hermione pulled him down. “Shut up or you are going to make me cry.”

      “Yes, wife.” He chuckled into her hair.

      Hermione and Lily walked carefully under the invisibility cloak on the Hogwarts grounds, the Marauders map open in front of them. It was a few weeks later and school was actively going on. Only mid-morning, classes just starting.

      “Hagrid is really sure that Dumbledore is gone?”

      “Yes,” Hermione whispered. “And he’s already double-checked the password. Don’t worry, Lily. It’s not like we’re trying to steal the most important item in the world or anything.”

      Lily rolled her eyes, pushing her red hair out of her face. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified that you are so callous about this.”

      “You’ve seen the things I’ve done with your son,” Hermione reminded her. “This doesn’t even mark that high compared to some of them.”

      They walked through the halls, carefully avoiding students and teachers. Hermione’s lips twitched when she saw her husband. He was storming through the halls, his robes billowing out behind him as students shoved against the walls to get out of his way. Severus stopped to scold a couple of students for snogging. Hermione and Lily walking past him; his wife reached out and squeezed his butt. He straightened and whirled around. His eyes narrowed when he realized no one was there, then Severus shook his head in their direction, scowling, before turning his attention back to the students.

      After they had gone down a hallway, Lily let out a chuckle. “Oh, Godric, how did he do that? It’s like he knew.”

      “Sev knows we are here today and he’s all too familiar with the invisibility cloak.”

      Lily let out a small ‘oh’. “You know, it reminds me of seventh year. The boys were convinced there was a new poltergeist in the school. They said they were leaving potions when Peter’s robes set fire and on the way to taking him to Pomphrey they were hexed.”

      “Yeah, that would have been me,” Hermione admitted. “I’m sure they didn’t mention that they had Severus cornered in an alcove about to beat him up.”

      “No, they left that part out.”

      Dumbledore’s office loomed ahead. Hermione shifted the cloak, before whispering, “Chocolate Frogs.” The gargoyle moved out of the way, and they made their way up the steps.

      On the stairs, Lily looked at her. “Do we have to keep the cloak on? It’s so hot under here.”

      “Yes, or the portraits will see us.” Hermione put a finger to her lips. “Or hear us. So, no talking.”

      Lily swallowed hard and nodded. They stepped into the room, letting the door swing open widely, as if a gust of wind or ghost might have done it. The portraits muttered before falling back asleep.

      Hermione silently cast an accio, but nothing came. She wasn’t surprised. They quietly went through the drawers of his desk, opening every cabinet along the wall. Two hours passed. They had checked every cabinet, even going into his quarters, which proved immensely awkward. Lily almost went purple trying not to laugh at Dumbledore’s wildly colored underpants.

      “Do you think they match his robes,” Lily had whispered to Hermione, causing the girl to almost cry in laughter.

      Unfortunately, they had exhausted every space they could look. They had checked loose floorboards, under the mattress, checked for trick drawers, everything they could think of. Feeling downtrodden, they reluctantly left Dumbledore’s office and walked to Hagrid’s hut. It was in sight when something red flashed in front of them, landing on a stone half-wall.

      “Fawkes?” Hermione’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t seen the bird in over two years. It cocked its head at her, she mimicked it.

      Lily squeezed her hand. “Hermione, what is Dumbledore’s bird doing here?”

      “I have no idea.”

      Fawkes began to hack, shoving its head toward Hermione’s cloaked figure. She quickly reached her hand out and a black stone dropped into her palm.

      “Is that what I think it is,” Lily asked.

      “It’s the resurrection stone. Fawkes, why would you do this?”

      The phoenix blinked at her and poked its head inside the folds of the cloak to cuddle against Hermione’s face. She caressed his feathers and Fawkes cooed. Hermione felt something press against her mind. It wasn’t words necessarily, but a feeling. Fawkes believed in her.

      When the bird flew away, Lily shook her head. “I’m thrilled we got it, but do you know what occurred to me? Anyone walking by would have seen a bird with no head, sitting on that wall.”

      Hermione wiped a few tears from her face that had fallen and gave the red-haired woman an exasperated look. “You are five. Honestly, woman.”

      “What?” Lily said innocently. “You have to admit, that’s pretty funny.”

      “Suddenly, it makes sense why you fell for James.” Hermione knocked on the door to Hagrid’s hut.

      Lily chuckled. “I’m hurt, Hermione. Are you saying I’m juvenile?”

      The door opened and Hagrid stood in the doorway, waving them in. They pulled the cloak off of them and they both stretched.

      “If she isn’t, I am,” a familiar voice drawled.

      Hermione smiled at Severus who was sitting at Hagrid’s table, a butterbeer cupped in his hands. He stood and swept her into his arms. “I missed you,” she whispered.

      “Clearly. I almost hexed an innocent student because of you.”

      She looked up at him. “As if it wouldn’t have aided your cause of being the most feared professor in the school.”

      “I have no interest in being a bully,” he chided, kissing her softly. “But on to other business. Was your quest successful.”

      Lily and Hagrid sat down at the table, Hagrid handing out two more mugs of butterbeer for the women. “It was,” Lily told him. “If not… unconventional.”

      Hermione pecked Severus one more time on the lips before they joined them at the table. “I’ll explain later.”

      “So, now we wait.” Severus sighed, running his fingers through his black hair.

      Hagrid patted him on the back. “Don’ ‘orry, Professor. It’s no’ so bad being here. Give it time.”

      Severus sipped his drink. “I would feel better having my wife in my bed and my son in my arms.” Hermione patted his arm.

      “I wa’ thinkin’ ‘bout that, ‘ctually. Hermione, can’t ya’ use the portkey ya’ created fo’ me to come here?”

      Hermione nodded. “Of course, I mean, I used it today.”

      “What if we work out a time for ya’ three to visit? The portkey comes ‘ere.”

      “Oh, Hagrid, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

      “Inconvenience? Ridiculous, that is. Ya’ two are as close as fam’ly to me. And if ya and Severus need some time alone, if ya catch my drift, I’m more ‘n happy to watch lil’ Sept.”

      Hermione hugged him around his large waist. “Thank you, Hagrid. It would mean so much to us.”

      Severus patted his arm. “Especially that alone time, you mentioned. Though, I do call first dibs on time with my son.”

      “O’ course,” Hagrid chuckled.

      Hermione beamed up at him. “We should go for now, though. I don’t want to draw attention to us today.”

      She turned and hugged Severus, kissing him on his cheek. “And I guess I’ll be seeing you sooner than I thought.”

      “I suppose you shall,” he smirked. “I am sure I can make room in my very busy schedule for you.”

      “You better, husband.”

      “Yes, wife.”

      Lily stood from her butterbeer and went to Hermione. They pressed their fingers together on an old mug on a shelf and disappeared.

      “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong,” Hermione asked.

      Lily had her back to her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “Lily, you are a lot of things. A quiet person is not one of them.”

      The redhead turned around, tears in her eyes, and sank down into the couch. “Hermione, I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid. No, I’m terrified out of my mind.”

      Hermione sat down next to her. “I can’t blame you.”

      “Didn’t you say that Dumbledore’s theory on the stone was that only those unafraid of dead could be successfully resurrected? And I am. I am so afraid. The fear of losing my son is overwhelming me to the point of insanity.” Lily stood and began pacing. “And, yes, for selfish reasons as well. I don’t want to die. I want to grow old, have more kids, do things. And… and… argue with James. I want him to make fun of me after I’ve gotten angry. I want him to fiddle with my hair like he always does.” She sank down in an opposite chair. “I am only fear now.”

      “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Those are perfectly valid fears, you know.”

      “Harry did it,” Lily said miserably. “My seventeen-year-old son faced off death without any fear and his own mother is swimming in hers.”

      Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. “I mean, you know, it’s possible, though. Perhaps, you can hold onto that—”

      “I am starting to really like you, Hermione, and understand you. I know you’re lying. It’s not life that I have to brave or hope. It’s not fearing death. I need to prepare.” Lily stood, her face haunted. “I need to start writing down everything I want Harry to know. Letters to James and friends.”

      “Lily…” Hermione began, her stomach twisting. “Don’t give up hope.”

      The woman looked back at her sadly. “I won’t. But I know me, Hermione. I’m selfish and juvenile. No, don’t argue. I know my faults – I always believed I would have my entire life to work on it. But that’s not going to happen, that much I can accept.” She went to the door, closing it quietly behind her.

      Hermione stared for a long while at it, before she began crying. This had been her biggest fear going in. Losing one of the Potters. Out of everyone she had hoped to save, they had been on the top of the list. Her belief in her quest had been shaken a week before when one of the people she had hoped to save had perished. A young man, muggleborn, barely sixteen. He had been cornered by Death Eaters. She was sure of her timing, but the Daily Prophet had been wrong. It had said he was killed in the afternoon. When Hermione arrived, polyjuiced and Imperio’d Death Eater in tow, the boy was already dead. A broken chard corpse. He had been killed probably in the early morning; the boy had been a prefect in Ravenclaw. Probably had left early to watch over the students.

      It was one of the biggest reasons Hagrid’s offer had meant so much. Hermione couldn’t handle any of this without Severus. He had done his best to owl her, but Dumbledore was keeping a watchful eye on his new spy; Severus couldn’t risk tipping their hand. The phoenix magic was strong, but so was Dumbledore. One wrong move and they feared the spell would be broken. Septimus was too little. His big golden eyes staring at her as she cried into her pillow. It frustrated her to feel so weak. Here was her son, just a little over two months old, and his mother couldn’t pull it together.

      She resolved in the morning to contact Hagrid. Hermione needed to see Severus, needed his arms around her. She didn’t want anything else. Just the three of them. Hermione dragged herself over to the Barne’s family house and picked up her son; Delia giving her a worrying look. She got her and Septimus ready for bed before dragging the open-sided basinet over to the bed. Hermione laid him down and he gave her a look that she knew all too well. It was the ‘I only like mommy’s arms when I sleep’ look. She chucked and draped her arm over his stomach.

      “We’re going to see Daddy soon, baby. Real soon.”

      As she drifted off to sleep, Septimus inching closer until he was inside her arms, Hermione dreamt of the three of them. The way they often slept. Hermione and Severus facing one another, Septimus locked between them. His fists often locked with strands of their hair. Hermione had no doubt: Septimus was the living embodiment of their love. He was their everything. She couldn’t fall apart now.

Chapter Text

        Hermione watched as Lily paced back and forth. She had bags under her eyes, barely concealed by foundation. It looked as if her weight had dropped in the last month and a half. Little Harry was on the floor observing his mother with wide eyes; Hermione could see the wheels behind his eyes turning, trying to discern whether this was a fun game or not. She wished she could appease him, but tonight everything would change. Tonight, Harry could lose his mother.

        It was going to be a complicated procedure. James couldn’t know that his wife wasn’t going to be switched out like he was, or he would do everything in his power to stop it. No one could blame him if he did. It’s probably why Hermione felt like the worst person in the world every time she saw him. Harry could lose his mother, but James could lose the love of his life. Severus was no better. He still did not hold any affection for the man, but he certainly didn’t wish him to lose Lily. They had both seen firsthand how deep their love was for one another. James was a truly doting husband and father; he had matured much since their school days. Out of everything they had ever done, this felt the worst.

        Especially for Hermione, who knew the true depth of Lily’s fear, who knew that the woman wasn’t ready to use the resurrection stone. In so many ways, things could go wrong. Used wrong, those brought back by the stone hated their existence. They would become so miserable they would seek out death again. There was also the fear that they would have the stone so close to Voldemort. If Lily panicked… showed her hand, literally. It would all end.

        “It’s time,” Hermione said, gingerly.

        Lily knelt down on the ground and pulled Harry into her arms, kissing him hard on the cheek. He giggled, wrapping his arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Harry. Things are going to be scary in a little bit.” She looked at Hermione. “I told James I’d give him a goodbye kiss for luck. Is that alright?”

        “Of course,” Hermione said. She wanted to add, but quickly, but she stopped herself. It could very well be the last time Lily kissed her husband.

          Lily disappeared down the hallway where her husband waited. Lily was going to go with Hermione, and James with the Prewitt brothers. Severus was stuck at the school, the Halloween Banquet beginning soon. Hermione squeezed her hands into fists. She hated Voldemort, but in this moment she almost hated Dumbledore more. He kept a thin leash on her husband. She knew it would lighten up as time went on, but right now, her husband was stuck abiding the stringent rules of the Headmaster.

       It was a little over five minutes later that Lily came back, her face stoic. Almost calm.

      “Are you all right, Lily?”

      “I’ll be fine. Let’s go save my son.” Lily picked Harry up and straddled him to her side.

      Hermione gripped her hand and they apparated to Godric’s Hollow. Right now, Gideon and Fabian would be giving James a sleeping draught. He would awaken not long after everything was done. It hurt Hermione’s stomach to trick him. Maybe, just maybe, he would awaken, and his wife would be right next to him.

      They walked into the house to Harry’s bedroom. He squealed seeing his many toys. Lily had already taken his favorite to their new home in Spinner’s End, but it would have seemed odd to have left nothing there. They heard the door open downstairs. Hermione peeked her head down and Fabian gave her a salute from the bottom of the stairs.

      Lily put Harry into his crib and ruffled his hair. “I love you, sweet boy. My son.”

      Hermione swallowed and pulled out the resurrection stone. “You know what to do?”

      Lily took it, holding it in her hands, her fingers caressing the surface. “Let’s go over it one more time. Just to… just to be sure.”

      “Voldemort comes in, kills your fake husband downstairs, you fight for Harry’s life. As you argue, turn the stone three times in your hands – and then…”

      “Then, hopefully, I live.”

      Hermione looked down, unable to look Lily in the eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wish I had another way, I wish I could tell you this worked—”

      “Hermione, you’ve done what you could. The important thing is that after this Harry will still have a family. He’ll have the better parent, not someone as selfish as me.”

      “You’re not selfish, Lily.”

      Lily turned and looked down at her son. “I am. My family is everything to me. To die for them – it is the most selfish thing I will ever do.”

      Hermione gasped as a sob choked at her throat. She rushed forward and hugged Lily. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know if I can let you do this; it’s too much.”

      Lily pulled her back, her face strangely calm and patted Hermione on the cheek. “It’s not your choice. It’s mine. This is my family, Hermione, it is my job to protect them. Now, go.”

      “I’ve never seen you so strong before, it’s like the fear is gone. Just earlier, you seemed as if it was consuming you. What happened?”

      “I guess, I realized that death means nothing as long as my love is strong,” Lily said. “That’s the power of being a f... parent.”

      Hermione nodded, slowly. Her heart aching. “I want to see you after this, Lily.”

      “Whatever will be, will be. I am happy knowing that even if I am gone, my son and… James will be with people who love them.”

      They hugged goodbye once more, Lily whispering in her ear, “Tell Severus I am sorry for everything – he is the better man.”

      Hermione couldn’t think about what her words meant because Fabian and Gideon were calling up to her. She gave Lily a grim smile and rushed from the room. In less than a half hour Voldemort would be coming. The twins nodded in understanding to her, wrapping their joined arms around her and walking her from the house until they apparated her away.

      She blinked in confusion. “Where are we?”

      They weren’t at Spinner’s End.

      Gideon and Fabion held onto her, not speaking.

      “Guys, why are we at the Shrieking Shack?”

      The twins blinked. “I don’t know,” Gideon said. “I meant to apparate us straight to Spinner’s End. Fabs, did you bring us here?”

      His twin shook his head. “You apparated us, dingleberry. If we had both chosen, we would have been splinched and Hermione would be split in half.”

      Hermione sighed. “Never mine. Just take us home, I want to check on James.”

      Gideon sighed. “Sorry, Hermione. I guess I’m just tired. A stray thought must have passed through my mind.”

      “Then I should apparate us. I don’t want to know where the next stray thought takes us.”

      “Probably straight to Dorcas,” Fabian chuckled.

      Gideon rolled his eyes. “She’s my wife, Fabs. If my thoughts didn’t always go to her, then I’d be worried.”

      “Enough,” Hermione said, harsher then she meant to. “We’re wasting time. Voldemort could be there already.”

      “He is.” A voice behind her said.

      Hermione whipped around and saw Severus. He was wearing his Death Eater robes; he looked exhausted and wearied. “Severus, what are you doing here?”

      “This is where I come to apparate for Death Eater meetings. I’ve just returned from him. He proclaimed to his people what he was doing, asked everyone to prepare for a great celebration upon his return.”

      Hermione walked up to him. “Then… it might already be over.”

      He nodded grimly. “Dumbledore doesn’t know I’m back yet; I still have time. Let’s finish this, Hermione.” He kissed her forehead. His black eyes flickered up at the Prewitt’s. “I’ll take my wife back to Spinner’s End. I don’t need you two apparating her into several pieces.”

      Severus wrapped an arm around her waist, and they disappeared. “I want to check on James, make sure the sleepless draught is still working… then we can check on Lily,” Hermione told him.

      “Hagrid will be there soon if memory serves. Dumbledore asks him to bring him to the Dursley’s, correct?”

      “Sirius will come as well. He lets Hagrid use his motorcycle.”

      Severus sighed. “Your faux bodies are prepared?”

      Hermione nodded. She had created fake corpses to replace those of James and Lily; wizards weren’t known for checking things like heartbeat. The wizarding world, even the most open-minded, didn’t believe that muggles could create things like life-like dummies. The ones she had were bought from a high-end medical company, practice cadavers that looked and felt like real humans. She had spent the last two months making them look like James and Lily. The Polyjuice potion would already have worn off and they needed to bury something. Hermione desperately hoped they’d need both.

      They reached the door. Slowly, opening it, Hermione peaked in and almost fell through the door.

      “Lily!?”

      Lily Potter was laid carefully on the floor of the room, fast asleep.

Chapter Text

            Hermione and Severus rushed into the room, the woman dropping to her knees beside Lily. She shook her.

            “Lily. Lily, wake up!”

            The redhead wearily opened her eyes, blinking. “Wha- what?”

            “Lily, what are you doing here?”

            Severus helped her sit up and Lily looked around, confused. “I don’t… I don’t remember.”

            “Lily,” Severus said. “Do you remember what you were doing?”

            Her back straightened and her eyes cleared, slightly. “We were going back to Godric’s Hollow. I came… I came here to say goodbye to James.”

            “Then what happened,” he said kindly.

            “I came in, James hugged me and kissed me. He said—” Her voice began to shake. “He said he loved me and Harry and that he would always protect us… then nothing. Hermione, where is my husband?”

            Hermione and Severus shared startled glances. “He couldn’t have,” Hermione whispered.

            “Hermione, where is my husband?”

            Severus helped Lily to stand, his black eyes were dark. “I think James did something very stupid.”

            Lily grabbed Severus’s collar, shaking him, her voice shrieking. “Where is James!?”

            Hermione gripped her shoulder. “I think he took your place, Lily.”

            “No,” Lily whimpered. “No! How could he have even known? We kept it a secret—” Her face went pale. She dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands, her long red hair falling in front of her. “Oh, god. Oh, god.”

            “Lily,” Hermione said, quietly. “What is it?”

            Lily sobbed. “My letter to him. I never could hide anything from him; he must have found it. It detailed everything in case the worst was to happen.”

            Severus clenched his jaw. “Sentimental fool.”

            “Hermione, is my husband dead? Is…” Her eyes widened. “Harry? Is Harry alright?”

            “I don’t know,” Hermione said, honestly. “We need to go.”

            Severus shook his head. “We don’t have enough time. Lily, damn it, woman, don’t argue with me. You’re too emotional. I’ll go with the Prewitt’s. Switch out the bodies. I’ll make sure Harry is alright and, by Salazar Slytherin’s left nut, if James isn’t dead, I’ll kill him myself!” He stormed from the room.

            Hermione reached out and took Lily in her arms as the woman cried. The shock settled over her. James had polyjuiced himself into his wife; Lily’s words from before, James’s words, hit her like a brick wall. His lack of fear, his determination that the better parent would survive, that Severus was the better man – it all clicked into place. They had underestimated the once-Marauder. James had managed to save his wife after all. Father like son. Hermione almost laughed; so, Harry and James were alike after all.

            Sentimental fools, indeed.

            Severus strode into the main room where the twins waited. He glared at them.

            “We are going to have words, after this. Right now, grab the fake bodies.”

            Gideon raced to follow him. “What happened?”

            “There’s no time to explain. We need to get back to Godric’s Hollow.”

            “But…”

            Severus whirled around, his wand at Gideon’s throat. “Later, Gideon Prewitt, or I will turn you into a slug. Do you understand me?”

            Fabian put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “This isn’t the time, Giddy. There’s too much at stake.”

            Gideon nodded. “I’m sorry, Severus. You’re right, let’s go.”

            They grabbed the cadavers and returned to Godric’s Hollow. It was deathly quiet. Except for one thing: crying. A child’s cry. Harry.

            Severus ordered Gideon to switch out the body downstairs and he and Fabian went upstairs. Only a charred mark on the floor remained of Voldemort. Harry was standing in his crib, crying, reaching out for something. Severus’s knees almost gave out.

            The ghost of James Potter stood by the crib, trying to comfort his son.

            “James?”

            The ghost turned and smiled wanly. “I was hoping it would be you, Severus.”

            Fabian was pale. His eyes fell on the fallen form of James Potter on the ground and back at the ghost. “I don’t understand, James.”

            “There’s not time, right now, Fabian. Take me home to my wife. Please.”

            Severus nodded weakly at the Prewitt, who with a grim face replaced the bodies and disappeared. The protection spells of their home were gone.

            “What…” Severus swallowed hard. “What happened, James?”

            James, the ghost, shrugged. “Pick up my son, Severus. I can’t hold him.”

            The man obeyed and Harry gripped him tightly. “James, the stone.”

            “I used it,” James told him. He looked down at the cadaver that looked so much like his wife. “I was taken to a place, my parent’s living room at Christmas. It was always my favorite time of the year, laughing over a roaring fire, opening presents. They died, you know? Blood traitors, Lily’s parents too. We never talked about it. It was too hard. When I got there, my parents were there. They told me I had a choice; I could return but the protection spell on my son wouldn’t be complete. The spell is old magic; lost to time and memory. It requires a soul. A life for a life, if you will.”

            Severus took a sharp breath in. “If you returned the spell wouldn’t work. All of this nothing; the resurrection stone, the planning. James, why did you do this?”

            James gave Severus a smirk. “You would have done the same. If it was Hermione and your son.”

            “In an instant,” Severus relented. “You found Lily’s letter?”

            “She talks in her sleep. Her nightmares have been terrible lately; and she kept talking of dying, so, yes, I looked for the letter. It was always her thing. Notes in class, letters during the summer.”

            “How did you do it?”

            James raised an eyebrow. “I think you already know that.”

            “You imperio’d the Prewitt brothers.”

            “I made them believe that Lily was me. I stole Polyjuice from you a week ago and stole her hair tonight. I even had them take Hermione to the Shrieking Shack to buy time.”

            “You didn’t fear death then?”

            “No,” James said. “I think because I always knew that I wasn’t meant to survive this long.” He looked around the room. “I always had this feeling inside of me; this acceptance that I wasn’t meant to grow old. I think it was why I was so angry in my youth, and I took it out on you.” He raised his hand. “It doesn’t excuse it, not by a long shot. The more death I saw in this war, the louder that knowledge grew. This was how it was always meant to be.”

            “What about Lily? How is she supposed to accept this?”

            “I’ll go to her, after this. Before I move on,” James pressed an ethereal hand to Harry’s cheek. “Her future is still bright. I suspect that there is more to her life than she believes will be possible. In fact, I know it. I’ll still be watching. You will need me in the future; but I won’t be coming around for a while. Lily needs to move on from my death and if I linger, she never will.”

            “Are you truly alright with this?” Severus looked at his once-bully with respect and sorrow.

            “I am. My parents are waiting for me, Severus. I didn’t realize how much I missed them; I don’t… you already gave me the greatest gift. You let me see the man my son would grow up to be. I have no regrets. The stone wasn’t useless. I have a feeling it does more than any of us can imagine.”

            “James, I forgive you,” Severus told him. “For everything. I cannot hate a man who would do this for his family.”

            “That means a lot to me. It truly does. You have a hard journey ahead of you. I will be here, if you ever need to talk. Even if I don’t come in person, I will be listening. Perhaps, we can be friends, after all of this.”

            “I would like that, James Potter.”

            James smiled at his son who was looking at him with wide eyes. “Take care of your mother, Harry. She will need you and never begrudge her happiness – she deserves everything. I love you, never ever forget it.” He looked at Severus. “I hereby mark Severus Snape and Hermione Granger as the true Godparents of my son, Harry Potter.”

            A light filtered through the room, landing on Severus and Harry. “What about Sirus?”

            “From what you’ve told me; Sirius won’t be around. He’s still a godfather, but now you three are connected through the spirit world. I want my son to have as much protection as he can. And you are the best, Severus. Take care of my family, Snivellus.” He winked at the boy he once hated.

            James disappeared.

            Harry whined at the place where his father had been, and Severus pulled him tighter to him. “I know. I never thought I’d say this, but I’ll miss him too. Your father is a brave man, perhaps, the bravest I’ve ever known.”

            Severus heard the door open, and he walked down the steps. Hagrid stood there, tears streaming down his face.

            “It’s over, then,” Hagrid sobbed.

            “James Potter is dead,” Severus said to Hagrid’s shock. “He sacrificed himself to save Lily and Harry. Take him, Sirius will be here soon.”

            “I don’, I don’ understand, Severus.”

            “In due time, my friend. For now, it is time for our plan to complete itself. We must not let his sacrifice be in vain.”

            Hagrid straightened. “I understand. Give me the lil’ tyke. Damned if I know how I’ma ever goin’ to let him go.”

            “If Lily and Hermione have their way, he will be back before we know it. Wait for Sirus. The next few hours won’t be easy.”

            “No, I suspect not.” Hagrid wrapped the boy in a blanket. “Oh, I knew he’d ‘ave it but still breaks my heart to see this scar.” One large finger tapped the lightning-shaped mark on Harry’s head. “Severus, I’ll see ya’ in a bit.”

            Severus kissed Harry on the head. “As if you were my own son, Harry Potter, I will protect you in the name of your father.” He nodded to Hagrid before apparating away.

            Godric’s Hollow fell into silence.

Chapter Text

            Hermione woke with a pounding in her head. She had cried most of the night over James’s sudden death, wishing Severus was with her. Cordelia had been kind enough to keep Septimus, especially once hearing the news, and Hermione was grateful. She had never felt like such a failure in her entire life. Severus had explained everything, told her about James’s words, but it was still like someone had stabbed a knife in her heart.

            What was worse was the tiny bit of relief she felt. That was so much worse. When had the darkness risen so high in her heart that she could ever be relieved that someone else had died? Her mind haunted her the entire night. Perhaps, it was because she hadn’t known James as well as she had Lily in their albeit short time together. Or because she still hated the man a bit for the way he had treated her husband. Was it that she was so sexist she believed that a mother was more important than a father? Hermione stared at the ceiling, barely blinking, wallowing in grief and guilt.

            The door to her bedroom slammed open. She jumped, grabbing her wand.

            “Lily?”

            The redhead stood with her hands on her hips and a raised eyebrow, an almost evil smile on her lips. “Up, Hermione Granger or Ranger, Snape, whatever you technically are.”

            “Lily,” Hermione said, sliding off the bed. “I thought that you would be—”

            “Wallowing in my grief?” Lily strode into the room and started pillaging through Hermione’s drawers throwing clothes at the surprised brunette. “Not today. Today… we get my son back.”

            “But… Lily… I thought that you would hate me? I failed to save him.”

            Lily snapped around. “You didn’t fail anything. James explained everything to me; he was with me until dawn, told me everything, and yes, I will grieve, but he reminded me of something very important.”

            Hermione pulled her clothes on. “And what is that?”

            “That I am now the mother and father to Harry. I can’t fall apart into my own grief. I hate…” She breathed out, shaking her tears away. “I hate what James did, but he knew me. If I had gone last night, I would have failed. I was too afraid. He did what a husband does for his family: he sacrificed his own happiness for mine and for my son. I will be damned if that sacrifice is lost because I’m too weak to do what is necessary. So, clothes. Wash your face, wee, whatever you need to do. I’ll make a quick breakfast downstairs and then we are giving my sister a fresh dose of Hell.”

            Lily walked from the room, leaving Hermione speechless. A chuckle escaped her lips.

            “She has that effect.”

            Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. Ghost James Potter stood in the doorway, leaning against it. “James?”

            “I won’t be long. I really do need to be going, after all. My parents are waiting, and they told me they have a wonderful Christmas lined up for us.”

            “Christmas isn’t for two months,” she said lamely.

            James smirked. “We’re dead, Hermione. We can have Christmas whenever we damn well please. Now, out of all the people I thought I’d have a problem with – I was not expecting it to be you.”

            “Me?” Her fingers shook.

            He stepped into her room, frowning. “Why are you blaming yourself for my death, why such guilt over your thoughts?”

            Hermione let a tear roll down her face. Her face turned hot as she looked at him. “I was… I was relieved it was you.” Her eyes fell to the ground as tears boiled down her face.

            “Good,” James said to her surprise; Hermione stared at him. “I’m glad, because so was I. I wasn’t lying yesterday. I am an incredibly selfish person; the thought that my death would allow my beautiful Lily to survive – oh, it filled me with such relief.”

            “But the resurrection stone…”

            “I never counted on it, Hermione. Never. I’m sure Severus told you about my thoughts on the matter.”

            “But I was meant to save you, I was meant to save all of you, and I failed.”

            James shook his head, ruefully, tussling his messy hair. “No, the prophecy said you were meant to bring hope. And you did. Hermione, you gave us the opportunity to choose our fate; that is a gift better than we could have ever hoped. Harry will have a chance at a better life now because of you. Thank you. From the bottom of my ghostly little heart, thank you.”

            “But…”

            He raised his hands, smiling softly. “Lily will be fine. I know she will find love again and I have already given my gift to her, though she doesn’t know it yet.”

            Hermione swallowed, wiping her tears from her face. “What gift?”

            James crossed his arms, looking proud of himself. “Oh, she will realize it in… about nine months, I expect.”

            Her jaw dropped. “She’s pregnant? She’s… but she said you were waiting.”

            “We were. Until I realized what was really going on. I expect you to keep it a secret for now, Hermione. She’s going to need you. Pregnancy was rather awful for her.”

            “How could you know then…”

            James chuckled, gesturing to his body. “Being a ghost has its advantages.”

            “Harry will have a little brother or sister?” Hermione felt like James was shining a light inside her body. All the negative thoughts were being chased out of her body.

            “More, I expect, if my intuition is correct. I expect you to protect them as well as you have my son.”

            “Of course,” Hermione stammered. “James, thank you for coming to see me.”

            He smiled, cocking his head at her. “No, thank you, Hermione. You helped fix the broken parts in me; you helped me face that part of myself I didn’t want to. Because of that, I died in peace. You gave me the strength to not only finally see the demons inside of me, the me that was a bully and an angry little boy, but to be a better man. Don’t ever doubt yourself, Hermione Granger. You are the hero in my book.”

            Hermione blinked away tears. “Oh, James. I wish I had gotten to know you.”

            “You have. Every time you look at my son – that is me. Goodbye. I expect we will see one another again.”

            “Have a good Christmas.”

            He laughed. “Oh, I will. Mischeif managed.” And he disappeared.

            Hermione sat down on her bed, a few sobs leaving her lips. She wiped away the tears and walked to the bathroom.

            It was time to save Harry Potter.

            Lily and Hermione stood outside the Dursleys and stared at the plain house.

            The redhead grimaced. “God, it’s worse than I imagined.”

            “Just think, this could have been your future, if you’d never received your letter.”

            “You too,” Lily reminded her, winding her arm through Hermione’s. “Let’s go. Us Muggleborn’s need to stick together.”

            Hermione shook her head, grinning. “Indeed. Do you think we should—”

            But Lily was already striding to the door, knocking hard on the plain door.

            Petunia opened the door, her thin face going white in shock. “Lily? But you’re—”

            Lily pushed through the door, Hermione quickly followed. “Dead? Yes, I am. Technically. Now where the hell is my son?”

            “Your son? I mean, he…”

            Lily spun around. “Listen to me, Petunia Dursley, you tell me where my son is, or I will hang you from the clothesline and let the crows peck at you.”

            Petunia cowered, pointing with her finger toward the stairs.

            Hermione’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, you didn’t, you awful little bitch.”

            The thin woman glared at Hermione. “And who are you?”

            Lily grabbed Petunia. “That is someone you should be far more afraid than me and that is saying something. She is Severus Snape’s wife; the brightest witch of her age and she holds grudges to those who have wronged her husband.”

            “Severus? That skinny, poor child,” she sneered, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

            Hermione pulled out her wand, levitating Petunia, who screeched. “That poor skinny child is now one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Now, I wonder what he will do to you when he realizes that you put baby Harry under the stairs?”

            Petunia’s face turned green. “He wouldn’t stop crying.”

            Lily’s hands started to shoot electricity. “And so, you put him under the stairs?” Her voice was dangerously low, filled with such venom, that Hermione had goosebumps.

            The redhead ran to the bottom of the steps and pulled open the door. Little Harry was crouched inside a small box filled with rags and blankets. Crackers had been tossed inside. He was sucking on a little toy soldier. His eyes widened and he almost fell out of the box when he saw Lily. “Mama! Mama!”

            Lily grabbed him, nestling him to his chest. Cobwebs filled his hair. “What sort of monster are you?”

            Petunia looked stricken. “His crying was upsetting Duddykins… Vernon made me. He said if he didn’t stop crying, he was going to an orphanage.”

            Hermione stared at the woman is disgust. “Did you, I don’t know, try comforting him? Feeding him? Changing his diaper?”

            “I’m so busy taking care of Dudley.”

            Lily brushed the webs from Harry’s hair. “No, you were taking your anger of me out on a defenseless baby.”

            “That behavior…” Hermione told Petunia. “Makes you a monster even in the muggle world. People go to jail for that sort of thing. They are disgraces of society. You, Petunia Dursley, are a wretched slime of humanity and I promise that you will never find happiness in this life. You will die, unloved and betrayed by those closest to you.” She hadn’t meant to, but the phoenix magic echoed inside her words. Petunia’s face went slack as the words hit her.

            Lily spat at her sister. “We should go.”

            “Memory charm, first.” Hermione lowered Petunia to the ground. She whipped out her wand. “Petunia Dursley, you will not remember this moment. If a wizard or witch asks you are the guardian of Harry Potter.”

            Lily’s lips twisted in disdain. “What now?”

            “Take Harry home. I need to set up a few things here to warn if anyone magical comes close. I also need to perform the spell on Vernon, Dudley and Mrs. Figg.”

            “Okay. Someone needs a bath anyway.” Lily held onto Harry like he would slip from her fingers and break. She glared at her sister. “I know you hate me, for being magical, for being prettier. Maybe you blame me for mum and da’s deaths, but I never thought in a million years you would take it this far. When this is all over – I’m going to take great satisfaction in continuing this conversation, because I promise you, we’re not done.”

            Petunia nodded, looking weak and tired. Lily left the house, apparating away.

            Hermione sighed. “I know she said I hold a grudge, but I am positive her anger will still be just as fresh seventeen years from now.”

            Petunia swallowed. She stayed against the wall as Hermione flitted through the house; placing spells to ensure Hermione was warned if Dumbledore or anyone would come close. She did the same with Mrs. Figg and Vernon. She had never been more relieved to be as far away from the muggle world in that moment.

            A day later, Hermione used the portkey to Hagrid’s hut, Septimus in her arms. She smiled when Severus swept them in his arms. “It has been too long,” Severus murmured.

            “It’s only been two days,” she said, not truly meaning it.

            “A second is too long.” Severus pulled away and lifted Severus out of Hermione’s arms. “Hello, my son. Look at you, so big already.”

            “He has a good appetite. He definitely seems to favor you.”

            “Oh, you poor kid.” Severus tapped his son’s button nose. “Hopefully, not with everything.”

            “I like your nose,” she retorted.

            Severus sat down at the table; Septimus curled up on his shoulder. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but why are you here? Is there something wrong?”

            “I’m not with you,” Hermione said, sighing, sitting down next to him. She took his hand and traced hiz fingers. “I guess the last few days have been rough. I needed to recharge on my Severus time.”

            “Christmas will be here soon enough. Dumbledore is so thrilled that Voldemort is gone that he is letting everyone return him for the full holiday, even me.”

            “Small blessing. Severus, I’ve been wondering.”

            He raised an eyebrow. “Never a good idea.”

            “Shut up. It’s been bothering me about the Potter and Longbottoms.”

            “What about it?”

            “Dumbledore hardly had anyone watching the Potters, an auror going past their house every couple hours. If he really wanted them safe, shouldn’t he have moved them all to a safe house, even gotten them out of the country?”

            Severus furrowed his brow. “You think he wanted them dead.”

            “Think about it. Hardly anyone watching them, and then they died, instead of the Ministry and the Order, he has Hagrid of all people go to collect Harry. There should have been an army of people there, making sure Riddle truly was gone, collecting the bodies.”

            “You’re right. But why? What would he hope to gain?”

            Hermione bit her bottom lip. “I think Dumbledore didn’t want the prophecy to be true. He was the one who defeated Grindelwald, and it was what earned him his respect in the wizarding community.”

            “You think he wanted to do the same now. He wanted to be the one to defeat Voldemort.”

            “I do. I think he hoped that Voldemort would succeed, and that Dumbledore could once again prove he was the most powerful wizard in the world.”

            Severus stood, pacing, gently bouncing Septimus even as his billowed out from him. “It’s mad. Absolutely mad, Hermione, but it would play in what we know of him.”

            Hermione sighed. “I think that’s why he had the resurrection stone already.”

            “To save himself.”

            “It may have started with honorable intentions, if his history is anything to go by. He probably started out trying to attain it to save his sister, redeem himself, but as time went on…”

            “He knew he could use it in his fight against Riddle.” Severus sat down again, stroking his son’s head.

            “Ariana was his biggest failure. He probably told Aberforth that he was going to use the stone to bring her back which is why his brother even talks to him now, but…”

            “Either he chose not to tell Aberforth he had gotten it, or Ariana wouldn’t come back.”

            Hermione nodded. “The pull of power was too strong. Many, especially those in the ministry, were forgetting his great achievements. It was too long ago. This prophecy would undermine him further; how could a child do something he couldn’t. It probably drove Dumbledore insane.”

            “Which is why he does what he does best. He manipulates Harry in the future to be his puppet, so if anyone asks—”

            “It was only because of Dumbledore that Harry would even succeed,” Hermione finished.

            “Any pity I felt for killing him in the future suddenly seems to have vanished.”

            Hermione rested her head on his shoulder. “The more time goes on, the more I realize about the man – the less I have any kind thoughts about him.”

            Severus wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to him. “Well, we can take satisfaction in knowing that one day we can tell him exactly what we think of him and his stupid plan.”

            Hermione chuckled. “Indeed. In the meantime, let’s enjoy our time. We have ten years before we have to worry about the last half of this story.”

            “Ah, yes, while I dwindle away as the ridiculous potions professor in this place.”

            “Maybe, but at least Dumbledore won’t be so watchful now.”

            Severus scowled. “Small blessings, wife. I do not enjoy having to sneak away to have trysts with you like we are doing something wrong.”

            “Neither do I, husband.” Hermione watched Severus cuddle with their son. The way he looked at the boy both warmed and broke her heart. It was hard, him having to be gone so much. Hagrid had been so kind to let them meet here, but it was still not enough. Not nearly.

Chapter Text

            Hermione apparated home later that evening with a zonked out Septimus in her arms. She had just laid him down when she heard a soft knock on her door; opening it revealed Gideon and Fabian. They both smiled at her mischievously.

            She crossed her arms. “What did you boys do?”

            “Now, why would you accuse us of such a thing, Harmony?” Gideon’s eyes sparkled.

            “You two are Loki personified. I can only imagine what mischief you’ve done now.”

            Fabian leaned against her door. “Now, you only say that because you’ve only seen us use our… talents for ‘evil’.”

            “And you’re saying that whatever you’ve done has been for good?” Hermione looked at them skeptically.

            “Indeed. Now, my dear, if you will follow us,” Fabian said, grabbing her arm and looping it into his elbow. Gideon followed suit.

            “But Sept,” she argued.

            Gideon waved his wand. “There, baby charm. If he so much as makes a peep, we’ll be warned. Now, no arguing.”

            She squealed when they lifted her, her feet dangling in the air, as they carried her gentleman style over to the Transition house.

            They gently lowered her to the ground. “You are incorrigible.”

            “We’ll take that as a compliment,” they said together.

            “Why are we here?”

            Fabian tapped her nose. “Shush, precious. Feisty little thing, isn’t she?”

            “Indubitably, brother.”

            Hermione raised a brow. “Alright, may I please know what is going on?”

            “Ah, she said, please. Guess we have to, now, don’t we, Fabby?”

            Fabian nodded solemnly. “Left us no choice. All but tortured it out of us.”

            “Minding our own business, we were.”

            “You came and got me!” she said exasperated.

            The twins chuckled. Gideon moved to stand in front of her. “So, we know how hard the last few days were. Ups and downs. Real shocks. We thought we would help with your quest.”

            “What do you mean?” Hermione put her hands on her hips.

            Fabian put an arm around her shoulders. “Well, we went snooping.”

            “Found your little black book.”

            “Blue, actually.”

            “Blue book, right. Probably slipped your mind, but we put out feelers, did our due diligence, and, well…”

            Hermione’s mouth dropped as she realized what they were saying. “You saved someone?”

            Gideon shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard, really. Don’t know why you make such a big deal out of it.”

            “Who did you save?”

            Fabian beamed. “Open the door. They’re dying to meet you. They’ve done the whole process – start to finish. Only had one slight hiccup, but I’m sure you’ll understand.”

            Hermione stared at them for a moment before opening the door. Inside a couple stood, they turned, and Hermione felt her stomach drop.

            It was Frank and Alice Longbottom, their son Neville in their arms.

            She looked back at the Prewitt twins. “How?”

            “Genius, actually,” Fabian said.

            Gideon walked inside, waving at the couple. “We saw in your book that they were driven insane only a short time after the Potters were murdered, so we did the only logical thing, got eyes on them. Marlene and Dorcas took shifts while Fabs and I looked for their replacements.”

            “But how? I mean, you would have to torture someone just to do that.”

            “Not if they were already crazy.”

            Fabian grinned. “Went to France and got two loons from their wizarding hospital, brought them here, and voila – the Longbottom’s personified.”

            “But even if they took Polyjuice now what about in the future? They’re stuck at St. Mungos.”

            “That’s what where the real genius comes in. Marlene used some of your fancy telly makeup, disguised herself and got herself a job at St. Mungos, in the Janus Thickey Ward. So, every day, she’ll give them their ‘medicine’ (Polyjuice, of course) and none will be the wiser.”

            Hermione shook her head in shock. “And she’s okay with that?”

            “Needs to make money, doesn’t she? Anyway, before the war and all that, she wanted to work there anyway.”

            “I can’t believe it.”

            Gideon shrugged. “Hermione, you’ve saved so many, did you not think after all of that, we wouldn’t have your back?”

            She smiled at him. “I suppose I should have.”

            “Sweetheart isn’t she and I’m a married man. What a heartbreaking dilemma.”

            Fabian tugged her arm. “Want to meet them, because they want to meet you.”

            “Please,” she said, waving her finger at Gideon. “Before your brother gets himself in trouble with the missus.”

            Hermione balanced Septimus on her hip as she looked around the living room. The house was fully decked out once more for Christmas and her house was already bustling around with several children. The full crew of Barnes children, all six of them, the Meadowe’s teenagers, Harry, Neville were running through the house. Fang was following like a duckling, often being ridden (attempted, at least) by the younger ones; the puppy was already quite large, about the size of a labrador.

            The adults were hiding in the kitchen. Lily, Marlene and Cordelia had split the task of making the food; and Dorcas had taken it upon herself to wrangle the children. Hermione already knew why; the woman had asked her a month ago how to tell Gideon she was pregnant… with twins. Hermione’s labor apparently had a very large influence on the woman. The men were separated, some in the kitchen, some in the garden.

            Severus was currently outside with Hagrid, Fabian, Frank and Marv Meadows (Marlene’s father) talking about the best place to put a swing set. All of them avid gardeners and herbalists, they ignored the freezing temperatures in lieu of the quiet outdoors. Hermione had lost count the number of warming charms they had cast and glasses of firewhiskey consumed.

            It was a couple hours later that everyone packed into the living room, which now seemed all too small for the massive group. Presents were first passed to the children. The parents and other adults watched as they tore open the wrappings, squealing in delight at their respective gifts. It was a particularly happy Christmas for the Barnes family; Fredrick, at Hermione’s behest, had started his own construction company which was flourishing. His honest and hardworking disposition had earned him many projects over the last few months; he called it the Phoenix Construction Company and all of his success he pointed at his silent partner, Jean Ranger.

            Finally, as the children not-so-quietly played with their gifts, the adults handed out their presents to each other. Among other gifts, Hagrid was given an updated copy of Fantastic Beasts, personally signed by Scamander, by Hermione. The Prewitt twins gave most a litany of joke gifts that resulted in multi-colored hair, exploding boxes filled with candies, joke books (that took the name all too seriously), and mini firework displays. The Barnes’ couple gave Hermione and Severus a beautiful cedar chest to fill with their memories. Dorcas gave Gideon her not-too-subtle gift of two onesies (he cried, sweeping her into a hug that took her off her feet).

            Fabian was the most surprising. He gave Lily a necklace with a pendant that showed the constellations, changing every few moments to a new one. The man had all but taken the woman under his wing since James’s death, watching Harry, helping her with the house. He seemed hell bent on making her as angry as possible. Severus was perplexed, but Hermione knew Fabian was trying to keep her from falling into her grief. Lily had good days and bad days. On the bad, Fabian was right there, making sure she had whatever she needed. The fiery woman would curse at him, throw things, but he stayed firm, laughing away her anger until she had nothing left and Lily was left laughing with him. Even Harry liked him.

            Gideon disappeared during the festivities and came back a short time later, wearing the smaller robes of Severus. He stormed into the room to the amusement of the adults.

            “What do you think you are doing,” Severus said, scowling at the man.

            “Your gift.”

            Severus sighed. “My gift is you stretching out my good robes? I think I preferred the books you spelled that would insult me.”

            Gideon smirked. “You don’t understand, mi amor.” He took a swig from something inside his robes and morphed into Severus. “This is your gift.”

            “Your me. How amusing.”

            “Indeed I am. And why am I you?”

            Severus ran his hand over his face. “I couldn’t hazard a guess.”

            “Well, Fabian and I discussed it. Zonko’s is running beautifully; we have plenty of workers now, so we don’t need to be there very often, so… idle hands and all. We are going to be you.”

            Fabian went to stand next to his brother/Snape. “Rather, Severus, our dear friend, heart of our hearts, blood of not-quite-our blood, we are going to pretend to be you.”

            “Perhaps, I am not quite getting it, though, I rarely do with you two.”

            “Not always, but for parts of the school year, we are going to take your place as potions master.”

            Hermione’s gaped at them, grabbing Severus by his arm. “You’re not saying?”

            “Yes, Granger-Ranger. Severus will be able to be home more.”

            Severus leaned back. “Ridiculous. You are buffoons compared to me.”

            Gideon/Snape, unperturbed, grinned. “Indeed. How hard is it to scowl and swoosh through the halls terrorizing poor students while berating their very existence?”

            “Putting aside whether I would ever agree to this tomfoolery, you are not potions masters.”

            Fabian raised his arm. “I am. And Gideon is a master at charms. Considering what we do and what we did do as members of the Order, we have worked with our fair of potions.”

            “Why?”

            Gideon folded his arms in a very Severus-esque way. “Because you deserve time with your family. I figure; we work out a deal. You do, say, a couple weeks and we switch out the rest. That way, you are home over half the time.”

            Hermione breathed out slowly. “But why would you—”

            Fabian shook his head at her. “Besides helping the people who saved our lives, we have one nephew at Hogwarts, right now. Another coming soon in a few years, and then another. You are the one who gave us Zonkos so we could see them.”

            “And we are very selfish, creatures, Hermione,” Gideon concluded. “We want to see them more.”

            Hermione turned to Dorcas. “And you are okay with this?”

            The woman smiled. “Of course. Gideon already asked me. You have no idea the sort of mischief he gets into when he gets bored.”

            Gideon smiled at his wife, smug. “Fabs and I consider it a great treat. We have a competition going: who can act the most like our grumpy little friend.”

            Severus stood and went over to the two men. They looked at him warily, instead he reached out a hand. “I want to argue to high heaven, but to see my son more, be with my wife, is an opportunity I cannot pass on. If you are sure and you take this seriously, I will accept your gift.”

            The twins looked at each other before shoving past his hand and hugging him. Severus froze as the two large men held him.

            Hagrid rose as well and lifted the three of them off their feet in his own hug. “Ya’ two are jus’ the best men. Ya’r welcome in my hut, anytime.” He lowered them down.

            “As long as you have a steady stream of firewhiskey, Hagrid,” Fabian told him. “We’d be happy to.”

            The big man laughed and promised them it would be so.

            Hermione watched as everyone talked with one another. The Longbottoms, though reserved and introverted, had fallen perfectly in sync with the group. Harry and Neville were already fast friends, for toddlers anyway. The Barnes were treated the same as everyone else and were perfectly at ease with the wizards (Cordelia had even taken to reading about the history of it, knowing almost just as much as the next magical person). The elder Meadowes had become the go-to for advice from the younger families. Everyone worked well together. Certainly, there was the small tiff here and there, but somehow Hermione had not only saved these people, but they were forming into a community, a family.

            The first war was over.

            For ten years, they would have peace. Hermione couldn’t even believe it; especially as the Prewitt twins offered their amazing gift to her and Severus. She would have him two weeks out of every month during the school year. Even the ‘small’ problem of the Longbottoms, which ended up being Augusta, Neville’s grandmother, was truly that. She had agreed to every secret, promising to pretend that Neville lived with her and visited the couple often. Hermione had to agree, though, that the woman was as terrifying as Neville had described her, but she would grow on everyone. Her biscuits were to die for, and she seemed to have a never-ending supply in that handbag of hers. A few years later, Hermione would almost choke on a Christmas pie when Hagrid gave the woman the fabled stuffed vulture hat; the woman was so pleased she promised to never take it off.

            This was the beginning of peace for Spinner’s End and happiness would fall over the group for the next decade; darkness looming in the future. For now, though, it was simple and it was happy. The time to heal from the first war had begun.

Chapter Text

            Severus Snape, disillusioned, waited in the Department of Ministries. The Death Eaters were well into their attack on the young Harry Potter and his friends; he had been there long before any of them had shown up. Battle erupted around him as Harry fought against the Death Eaters; Lucius facing off against him. Severus had to resist the urge to not hex the pale blonde man into oblivion for attacking his Godson, but since he was technically Draco’s as well, he supposed that would be in poor taste.

            Sirius Black and the other Order members appeared. Severus frowned at the boldness of Sirius as he fought; he still was not fond of the man, his time in Azkaban had done little to mature him. He flinched when Sirius accidentally called Harry, ‘James’. Sentimental fool. Bellatrix flung her Avada, but Severus was ready. The details of this night were well-documented.

            He shielded Sirius and yanked him through the arch where a small portkey was hovering and watched the man ‘disappear’. To anyone else it would seem that Sirius had died, pulled into the mysterious archway. From their research over the years, Severus and Hermione had determined the entry was similar to the Mirror of Erised; those truly troubled by suffering would hear the voices of those lost to them, but they were nothing more than echoes of broken hearts.

            Severus waited until the battle had calmed down before leaving the building. It was grating on his nerves to see so many he cared about hurt and injured, but he trusted Hermione that everyone would be alright. Once outside the Ministry he apparated back to Spinner’s End. The first thing he heard was the loud bangs coming from the Transition House. His presence would not be helpful.

            Inside the Transition house, Hermione watched as Sirius struggled against the ropes they had been forced to spell on him.

            “Where the hell am I? I have to get back to Harry!”

            Hermione pulled her fingers through her hair. “Would you just stop for a minute so we can explain?”

            Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. “I recognize you. Jean Ranger. So, you were a Death Eater, huh? Should’ve known with how you were in school.”

            “If my actions were indictive of a Death Eater’s quality then what does that say about you, Sirius?”

            Fabian leaned against the wall. “Pretty dense, isn’t he?”

            Sirius turned his head to look at the man and his face went slack. “Gideon Prewitt?”

            “Wrong.”

            “What is going on here, Ranger?” He seemed shaken, but his eyes were still dark with fear and distrust.

            Hermione crossed her arms. “Are you sure I’m Jean Ranger? Look closer.”

            Sirius, a tiny bit calmer, but confused, looked her up and down. “You… you look a bit like Hermione, but you’re… This is a trick, some Death Eater devilry, or I’m dead. He certainly is.”

            “We can explain everything if you promise not to attack us again.”

            “No. I have to get back to Harry; he’s in trouble.” Sirius struggled against his ropes once more, falling to the ground and writhing on the ground.

            Hermione rubbed her head. “I’m getting too old for this. Was it always this difficult?”

            Fabian chuckled. “You were just a wee young thing back then, Hermione.”

            “Let me go!” Sirius interrupted.

            Hermione glared down at him. “Maybe we should put him in one of the rooms until he calms down.”

            “That won’t be necessary,” a voice behind her said.

            Fabian and Hermione turned to see ghost James Potter standing there. He was looking at his friend with a bemused expression.

            Sirius froze on the ground, his face going white. “James?”

            “Hello, old friend.”

            “I am dead then.”

            James smirked. “No. Only I have that honor. Now, stop being difficult for Hermione and Fabian.”

            “It’s good to see you,” Hermione told James. “How many years has it been?”

            “I’m dead, Hermione, we don’t tend to keep calendars.”

            “How was Christmas with your parents?"

            James beamed. “Went on for years, I suppose. Then we moved on to watching you lot. Harry and Marigold, the others. Congratulations, mate,” he told Fabian.

            Fabian shuffled his feet. “You’re not mad?”

            “Quite the opposite.”

            Sirius watched the exchange with increasing agitation. “What the hell is going on here!!!!”

            Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Sirius Black, you cannot demand that when you have been the one acting like a petulant toddler. Now, you will either calm down, let us release you, and listen or we will lock you in a room until you decide to behave.”

            He clenched his jaw. “Fine.”

            Gideon released the ropes and Sirius stood, slowly walking toward James.

            “Is it really you?”

            James nodded. “It is.”

            “How? I mean—”

            “Hermione has an easy way to explain all of it, if you will trust her, which I advise you do, Padfoot.”

            Sirius’s brow furrowed. “She can’t be Hermione, James. Hermione is a fifteen-year-old girl.”

            “Just do what she says and everything will make sense. I promise you.”

            “How can I be sure this isn’t some elaborate trick? How do I know you are even real?”

            James crossed his arms. “The night before my wedding, you got wasted and told me that you loved Lily, and you were only ‘letting’ me have her. I punched you in the nose.”

            Fabian snorted and Hermione covered her mouth to hide her smile.

            Sirius glared at them. “Alright. Fine. Ranger, what do you need me to do?”

            Hermione grinned. “This is my favorite part.” She turned and pulled out the pensieve that was heavy laden with memories. “This is everything that you need to know. The why’s, the what, and the who’s, though I’ve left you some surprises.”

            “You don’t really expect me to go in there? You could kill me.”

            James glared at his friend. “Severus could have let you die tonight at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, they could have killed you the moment you appeared or any moment since. I don’t think they’ll do it now. Now stop acting like a teenager and use your head.”

            “What does Snape have to do with this?” Sirius’s hackles were up. “That backstabbing, greasy bastard is a part of this?”

            Two wands were at his throat in seconds, but it was James who acted first. He was in Sirius’s face in a second, ghostly magic spilling out of him. “You listen to me, Sirius Black, or I swear on Godric’s corpse, I will haunt you until the day you die. You will not say a word against Severus Snape. He is the better man, the better wizard, and you are not fit to kiss his boots. Do you understand me?”

            Sirius looked aghast. “Now, I know you can’t be real. My James would never support Snivellus, never.”

            The front door slammed open, and Lily walked through, red hair flying behind her. “Oh, this is ridiculous.”

            “Lily? You’re…?”

            She rushed forward and slapped Sirius across the face. “Shut up, Black. I mean it.” She looked at James. “Hello, James. I haven’t seen you since our daughter was born.”

            Sirius stumbled back. “Daughter? You don’t have a daughter.”

            Lily turned back to Sirius. “I do. I have more than that, in fact. I have so much more thanks to Hermione and Severus, because they are the ones who saved my life. They saved many lives ten years ago and now they have saved yours. So, you will stick your face in that pensieve or I will do it for you. Do you understand me?” She was looming over him and to everyone else’s amusement, Sirius was cowering. “Now.”

            Fabian leaned toward Hermione. “Mom voice.”

            Hermione snorted. “Don’t lie, you’re scared of it, too.”

            Lily snapped her fingers at them. “Shush. Black, come here,” she ordered, instead grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him bodily toward the basin. “In or I will hex your hair off.”

            Sirius took one more look around the room and dropped his head into the pensieve. He was gone almost two hours. Meanwhile, the group chatted lightly. James disappeared for a bit, to talk with Severus, and reappeared shortly before Sirius.

            Black looked shaken. “I can’t believe it,” he said, but there was a lot less menace behind his words. He looked at Hermione. “So, you really are that bushy-haired friend of Harry’s.”

            “Afraid so.”

            “And you’re married to Snape.”

            “Yep.”

            Sirius looked at the others. “All of that really happened? Those two saved all those people, saved you, Lily. And you’ve just been living here? While everyone else thinks you’re dead?”

            “I am dead, to be fair,” James pointed out, rather unnecessarily. “But, yes, Padfoot. All of it is true.”

            Sirius found a chair and sat down hard, pulling his fingers through his long wavy hair. “All that stuff about Dumbledore? That’s really real?”

            Hermione looked at him with pity. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

            “I think I need time to process this. This is a lot.”

            James nodded. “Hermione, if it’s alright with you, why don’t you let Sirius and me use one of the bedrooms. I’ll keep him company for a while.”

            “If you think that’s best,” she replied.

            “I do. Sirius has always needed quiet to think.”

            Hermione smiled softly. That made sense. When he had been at Grimmauld place, Sirius had often locked himself in his room with Buckbeak. She looked at Sirius. “Is that alright with you?”

            He nodded, looking exhausted.

            “We will have to lock you in there until you’ve taken your unbreakable vow. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk you running off. I know you too well.”

            Sirius bristled slightly, but relented.

Chapter Text

            Sirius and James were inside the room for almost a week before they left. Ghost James said his farewells and returned to the spirit world, leaving Lily in charge of his friend. Sirius was calmer, though he still seemed a bit out-of-sorts, but no one could really blame him. His entire life had just gotten rewritten, everything he knew had been a lie, and his best friend was still dead.

            Lily took him first to meet her family. Three years after James’s death, she had started a relationship with Fabian. He had all but lived in her home anyway, helping her, taking care of Harry and Mary (Marigold). The hardest part for all of them was when Harry had started calling him ‘da’, Lily had broken down, her hormones still fluctuating from having Mary. That was when James appeared to her. He told her that his memory would never be lost, but the children needed a father and to, please, not take that away from Harry. Lily and Fabian’s relationship began to shift after that. Lily’s grief had finally passed the point where she could love again.

            Fabian and Lily married a year after they dated. They had two more children over the years. Jamie, nearly nine months from the day of their wedding, and two years after that, they had Luke. Their home was a full one, and one of the loudest. Between Lily’s sauciness and the children everyone always knew when they were up for the day and when they went to bed.

            Sirius followed close behind Lily as she walked into her house. She was immediately assaulted by her two youngest, both redheads.

            “Stop that,” she ordered. “Jamie, Luke, this is my good friend, Sirius Black.”

            The boys, ten and eight respectively, greeted Sirius who shook their hands awkwardly. Lily ordered them upstairs to their rooms.

            “So, how does this work?” Sirius said. “I mean, with Harry? He thinks you’re dead.”

            Lily ushered him into the kitchen and began making tea. “He only thinks he thinks I’m dead. Harry lived with us until a little bit before his eleventh birthday.”

            Sirius stared at her in surprise. “But what about the Dursleys?”

            “Memory spells. I’m not fond of it, but it was necessary to keep the timeline true.”

            He nodded slowly. “You and James’s daughter, Mary, where is she?”

            “America. At the school there. It was the safest place, I’m afraid.”

            “Does she come home for break then?”

            Lily sat a cup in front of him. “Christmas and Summer. The Meadowes moved there in ’82 so their youngest ones could finish school. Ended up staying because their children were there and now their grandchildren. Mary stays with them for the smaller breaks.”

            “What’s she like?”

            “Harry calls her the tempest. She has my temper and James’s emotional range.”

            Sirius chuckled at that. “Do they get along with your… other ones?”

            Lily raised an eyebrow. “You mean their brothers? Yes. Don’t give me that look, Black. Fabian was there for me… as a friend, for a long time. I still love James, I always will, but he wanted me to move on. He wanted this… all of this… for me and Harry.”

            Sirius bowed his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Your boys look like good kids. And you love Fabian?”

            “I do. It’s different than James. We were sweethearts, but Fabian and I are more like… I don’t know. It’s simpler, mature, easy.”

            “How do you get along with the Snapes?” He said it almost bitterly, but Lily laughed.

            “The Snapes? You mean, Hermione and Severus? Wonderfully. And don’t even start. I know you know the truth about all of it. Including that James made Severus and Hermione the official godparents of him.”

            “A little bitter about that, actually.”

            Lily rolled her eyes. “You were in prison, Sirius, and then on the run. It has nothing to do with what James thought of you.”

            “It’s just it’s Snivellus, Lily. I hated him.”

            “And he hated you. Yet, he saved your life, mine, and is a wonderful uncle to Harry. If he can move past your bullying, then I think you can too. James certainly did.”

            Sirius sighed. “It’s not that easy for me to change. It’s going to take time.”

            “Well, you have plenty. Hermione is giving you Fabian and Gideon’s old place. It was set up to be like a bachelor pad, so it wasn’t really appropriate for any of us. With that being said, I think, at the very least, you should thank your savior.”

            “Snape? Isn’t he at school?”

            Lily shook her head. “It’s Gideon’s week.”

            “Gideon’s?”

            “The twins Polyjuice themselves as Severus two weeks out of the month so he can be home with his family. They’ve been doing it since ’81.”

            Sirius threw his head back. “I don’t know what’s stranger about this. Snape with a family, Snape being married to Hermione, or that Snape willingly lets the Prewitt’s be him.”

            Lily laughed. “Trust me, he had his doubts, but they’ve done well. I think they sometimes play him better than he does. Come on.”

            Sirius warily followed her as she went to a bookcase. It swung open revealing a long set of stairs going into darkness. “What is this?”

            “Once Riddle came back, we couldn’t risk just walking into the street any more. Fredrick, that’s the muggle who lives here that you saw in the memories, he used the old sewer lines to create tunnels from all the houses.”

            They walked through one of the said tunnels until it opened into a massive room. Sirius’s jaw dropped. “This is underneath the houses?”

            “This was Hermione’s doing. A little magical tweaking. We needed a place to have our parties, there’s so many of us now after all.”

            It was a beautiful stone room with towering ceilings, tables pressed into shadowy corners. Something moved in a corner, something large. Sirius grabbed for his wand, but Lily gripped him.

            “It’s just Fluffy.”

            “Fluffy?”

            The three-headed dog stood and walked over to them, sniffing at Sirius. “We kept him for Hagrid after Dumbledore didn’t need him to guard the Philosopher’s Stone. He’s a very good dog, yes, you are, yes, you are.”

            The massive black dog rolled onto his belly, shaking the entire room.

            Sirius laughed. “Truth is stranger than fiction. If I had told myself a week ago that I would be walking to Severus Snape’s home to meet his family beside Lily, my best friend’s dead wife, while she petted a massive three-headed monster I think I would have been convinced I’d been confunded.”

            “Oh, the dog’s not so bad. Hagrid and Severus worked forever to tame him. Now he’s just a big, lazy puppy.”

            They stepped into a new hallway and up a long set up steps. Lilly knocked three times on the door at the top. Hagrid opened it.

            “Morning, Lily. And Sirius. Glad ya’ came ‘round.”

            “Hagrid,” Sirius greeted. “Do you live here as well?”

            Hagrid laughed. “Feels like it. Nah, jus’ helpin’ Severus with the plantin’. He’s out back with May.”

            Sirius followed him through the kitchen. “May?”

            “His youngest.” Hagrid gestured to the open back door. “I’ll leave ya two to it. Lots ta’ talk about, I’m sure.”

            Sirius stared in shock at the sight in front of him. Severus was on his knees in a white button down rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of worn jeans. His hair was pulled back and he was barefoot. A little girl with bushy hair, no more than three, was mimicking his every move. Sirius cleared his throat.

            Severus turned toward him, moving into a sitting position on the ground. His arm on his knee. “Black.”

            His daughter, a pudgy faced cherubin with large black eyes, crawled onto Severus’s lap, looking at Sirius warily. “Da, da.”

            Sirius stepped out into the yard. “Severus…” He grimaced. “I have no idea what to say.”

            “Pity,” Severus said sarcastically. It would have been a biting remark if May wasn’t wrapped around his neck, her wild hair all but obscuring his face. Severus sighed. It was impossible to be menacing when one had a toddler attached to them. “Well, if you have nothing to say, then work.” He tossed Sirius a trowel.

            Sirius nodded, numbly, and crouched down beside Severus. “How many children do you have?”

            “Three, a boy and two girls,” Severus replied, cooly. “Septimus, August, and May. And yes, they are named after the months, and no, it was not my idea.”

            Sirius’s lips flinched in amusement. “Considering every Black is a constellation I can’t really say anything.”

            May released her hold on her father’s neck to sit next to him still giving Sirius the stink eye. “P’rite,” she whispered to her father.

            Severus frowned down at her. “P’rite? No, May, he’s not a pirate.”

            “Why does she think I’m a pirate?”

            “Maybe because you dress like one. In fact, you do quite look like the one in her fairy tale book.”

            Sirius plucked a weed out of the ground. “Pirate,” he muttered. “Never imagined you for the domestic sort.”

            “The only man you knew was an angry teenage boy whom you bullied. I’ve been a married man since I was eighteen years old.”

            “Fair enough,” Sirius relented. “Still wrapping my head around a lot of things.”

            “You have it easy, Black.”

            Sirius glared at him. “How do you imagine that?”

            “You only have three years that you have to hide yourself. For the rest of us, we have been hiding our lives for over fifteen years. Marriages, children, just walking outside the door, none of it is easy.”

            “At least, you had the opportunity for happiness. I was in Azkaban most of that time.”

            Severus looked at him with cool eyes, before nodding. “I concede your point.”

            Sirius sneered. “Never thought I’d hear the day that the cold Professor Snape admit to any wrong, Snivellus.” It came out harsher than he had meant it to.

            May whimpered. Sirius opened his mouth to apologize but tears formed in her eyes as she glared at him. “Don’t be mean to da!” She pointed a chubby finger at him and Sirius found himself thrown in the air, several yards away.

            Severus loomed over him a moment later, his eyebrows raised. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

            Sirius dusted himself off and gave a wary look at May, but she had run inside. “She has a temper.”

            “Mother like daughter.”

            “She do that often?”

            Severus sighed. “May is nothing compared to Septimus. His terrible twos? He got upset with Hagrid and apparated him to Australia.”

            “I didn’t think that was even possible,” Sirius said aghast. “And why Australia?”

            “Hagrid turned off his favorite muggle show.”

            Sirius looked at the house. “I think I’ll take the dementors.”

            Severus wiped his hands of dirt. “Children are the opposite of dementors; your soul becomes bigger every day you have them.”

            “At what cost,” Sirius asked, patting his backside.

            “Everything you are. Problem is, you will never regret it, not a damn day.”

            Sirius looked around at the garden. “I never thought I’d say this, but this suits you, Severus.”

            “Maybe you can find your little patch of happiness now.”

            “I think that possibility married a Weasley-adjacent.”

            Severus smirked. “You’re not a child anymore, Black. Take your time here, find yourself. I think you’ll find there is a bigger world out there than you once thought. I mean, if you only stay with what you know, you’d end up having to marry one of the other Marauders and I don’t think Remus flies that way.”

            Sirius clutched his heart. “Severus Snape, did you just make a joke?”

            “If you haven’t gotten it already, there is a lot that you don’t know about me.” Severus raised an eyebrow at him. “You try living with the Prewitt twins for this long and not have it rub it off on you.”

            “I have a feeling I’ll find out.”

            “Indeed. Welcome to Spinner’s End, Black.”

Chapter Text

            Severus and Hermione were sitting in their living room, May between them, when something fluttered in the window. May squealed.

            “Bird, bird!”

            Hermione frowned and stood, looking out the window. Her jaw dropped. “Sev, it’s Fawkes.”

            Severus went to her, May at his heels. “Dumbledore’s phoenix?”

            It was sitting on the decrepit fence outside their house. Hermione breathed nervously and looked at her husband. “I’m almost afraid to go out there.”

            “May,” Severus ordered. “Go through the tunnels to Aunt Lily’s.”

            Hermione swallowed hard. “Are you sure?”

            “Hermione, she’s four now. She’ll be fine, it’s just a short way.” He cast his wand and his patronus appeared. A male otter, it trotted after the little girl. “Happy?”

            “At the moment?”

            Severus put a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, love.”

            “When does Pettigrew arrive?”

            “Not until next week,” Severus sneered. “The damn oaf. I knew this was coming but having that rat here is grating on me. I don’t want him this close to May.”

            They stepped outside. Fawkes titled his head at Hermione, and she couldn’t help but smile. She mimicked the bird. It thrust out its leg at her. It held a small cap in its hand.

            Severus stared down at it suspiciously. “A portkey?”

            Hermione’s stomach clenched. “This might be it, Severus. The answer after all this time.”

            “You mean, the one who brought you here?” Severus reached out and took her hand. “I would have thought they would have waited until the end.”

            “Remember what Dumbledore’s letter said? Whoever it was met with him before he died so he could write the letter. I always suspected something like this might happen.”

            “So, they time-travelled themselves?”

            “Possibly. Probably to make sure things went well.”

            Severus scowled. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t like this at all.”

            Hermione lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of his hand. “We can do this. Together.”

            “Always.”

            They reached out and the portkey pulled them away.

            Hermione and Severus stumbled slightly as they reappeared in a dark room. A fire burned against the far wall; a man stood in front of it.

            “Sirius?”

            The man raised his hand, and the lights turned on around them. They were in a small library.

            “Not quite,” the man said.

            Severus raised his wand. “Who are you?”

            “Regulus Black.”

            Hermione gasped. “Regulus? But you—”

            “Died?” Regulus smiled. He looked so much like his brother, but his features were softer. He was years older but was definitely the same young man that Hermione had seen pictures of. Regulus had only been seventeen when he had apparently died. “Please, sit, friends.” He indicated toward a few chairs around the fire.

            They hesitantly obeyed, Severus still gripping his wand tight. Hermione was staring at the man in fascination.

            “How are you here?”

            Regulus crossed his legs in his chair. “It is a long story. One I am happy to retell. It has been so long since I’ve been able to talk to anyone. First, the question in your eyes: yes, I am the one who helped plan this entire thing. I am the original to this whole time-travel journey, it is my actions that affected the timeline.”

            “Why?” Severus crossed his arms, his fingers still holding tightly to his wand. “What do you care about us or those that died in the war?”

            Regulus nodded in understanding. “At first, not at all. I know you know how I supposedly died. Except, well, I suppose, I lied when I said I started this whole thing. It was Fawkes.” The bird had landed on a desk in the corner and was currently preening. “I was ready to die on that island, the inferi were coming after me, when Fawkes appeared. He cried into my mouth and healed the magical madness that had crept over me, then carried me safely to the other side. I had no idea why he saved me. I thought about going back, but the temptation to finally be away from the war was too much. I left. Hid in France for a long time. Had a family. I was happy, but then… the war started again.

            “I watched, terrified, that the Dark Lord would figure out I was still alive. Then it all ended. Sirius was killed.” Regulus looked down at his hands. “I lost it. I had always hoped that he and I would someday work things out, I could tell him how wrong I had been, and then he was gone. That was when Fawkes found me again, he had the time-turner. I began to plan. The problem was… I could have easily saved just Sirius, but something kept holding me back. I was researching, trying to make sure I had accounted for every problem, and the more I found, the more suffering I saw.”

            Hermione looked at him in sympathy. “You wanted to save more.”

            “It started with just Harry. I read about his life and everything that happened to Sirius’s best friends. Then it was like opening this horrible web of more and more unnecessary death and suffering. It took me so long the second war ended. By then, I knew two things: Dumbledore was as much a villain in this war as the Dark Lord and, that it couldn’t be me who changed things. I am many things, but a force of good and light is not one of them. I would convince no one.”

            Severus sheathed his wand. “That’s why you chose Hermione.”

            Regulus bowed his head. “I needed someone who understood people, who cared, but understood the dark, and was not disillusioned by Dumbledore. It was a very short list. In fact, after your death, Severus Snape, Hermione was one of the only ones.”

            “So, you sent her back?”

            “The moment I made that decision; Fawkes brought me two letters. The one from Dumbledore to you, Hermione. And one from me, for me. It’s as if once I made that decision time began to change around me. It was subtle, like the spring wind that pushes away winter.”

            Hermione shifted in her seat. “What about your family?”

            “My wife and son are fine. They are still in France, waiting for me to come back when the time is right.”

            “When did you come back?”

            “I’ve been here since the beginning, watching over you. Before you ask, I was just as surprised about the prophecy from the centaurs as you were.”

            Severus pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Then the light and dark coming together; it was not me and Hermione, it was you and her.”

            Regulus shrugged. “It’s possible. I’ve known all of you for such a long time, though, Severus. You are no more evil than Hermione. I imagine the prophecy meant all three of us, because you two are one. A force of powerful good unlike anything I have ever seen.” Severus shifted, clearly uncomfortable being called good.

            Hermione chewed her bottom lip. “But you will be almost twenty years older before you see them again.”

            “My wife assured me she will love me at any age. We both agreed it was worth the sacrifice, if it meant this worked.”

            “Why now? Why tell us about you now?”

            “I have no idea,” Regulus admitted. “That’s what my letter told me to do. It said we needed to meet with Dumbledore together and that it was at this moment that I was to become part of the destiny you started.”

            Severus uncrossed his arms. “So, you will be coming back with us, then? To help us, I am assuming with the Final Battle?”

            Regulus turned to look at the fire. “I think more than that. I believe I am the one meant to kill Dumbledore.”

            “And why do you think that exactly?”

            “Because, despite how I have lived all these years, I still hold great evil in my heart. Only my killing curse will be strong enough to take him down.”

            “I think you underestimate me—”

            Regulus laughed and put his hands up. “I have no doubt you are a powerful wizard, Severus. I have seen it for myself. But I have dreamt it. Fawkes will appear and show me memories not my own. It is I who kill Dumbledore.”

            Severus leaned back on his chair. “I still don’t understand why his familiar is doing this.”

            “Because phoenixes are the guardians of life,” Regulus said simply. “And Fawkes cannot be a familiar. He is far too powerful of a magical being to be owned by anyone. I believe he has stayed with Dumbledore, not as his familiar, but as a judge to his crimes. Dumbledore has long proclaimed himself to be on the source of light, but his actions have been quite contrary. I believe Fawkes patiently waited and watched until he could execute his judgement.”

            As if listening, the bird raised his head and nodded in their direction.

            Severus sighed. “Then why not watch over Riddle? Granted, Dumbledore has his many, many problems, but isn’t the Dark Lord the greater evil?”

            “And who created the Dark Lord? You both know that he only became that powerful because of Dumbledore who he is known to fear. If Dumbledore had truly been a force of light, then he would have destroyed the Dark Lord at the first sign of trouble. No, he wanted a new villain so he could play the hero.”

            Hermione pulled her fingers through her hair. “He’s right. We suspected as much when he almost let Harry die.”

            Regulus stood. “Do you have any other questions?”

            “A thousand,” Severus said, before sighing. “But none that need answering right now.”

            Hermione looked at Regulus excitedly. “Will you meet with Sirius then?”

            “There is no reason for me not to. I also have a plan for this last couple years that I would like to speak to Severus about.”

            Severus nodded his way. “I will be very curious to hear them. What about Fawkes?”

            Regulus shrugged. “Fawkes comes and goes as he pleases. I have long stopped trying to figure him out.”

            As if in response, the bird flew out the window, leaving the portkey on the desk.

            The three of them sat in the kitchen. May had returned with a surprised Lily who hugged Regulus (she had known him a bit from school, though he had always been cold to her). The four-year-old was currently playing with Severus’s otter patronus.

            Regulus was watching in amusement. “I never could have been as creative as you, Hermione.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “When Severus met with Dumbledore last year. That was Lily, was it not?”

            Hermione couldn’t help but grin. “You mean with the patronus?”

            “Pure gold. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, it solidified with Dumbledore that Severus still loved Lily, but it was actually just Lily the whole time, talking about herself.”

            Severus rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I could do it. Clearly, my patronus is linked to my wife.”

            Regulus chuckled. “And she did her job well. Her ire about Dumbledore using her son so he could die for the cause; I could feel the hate.”

            “How do you know about that anyway?”

            “Phineas’s portrait. He’s the only one who knows I’m alive.”

            Severus smiled darkly. “So, you’ve been able to spy on Dumbledore this whole time?”

            “Who do you think got him out of his office so Hermione and Lily could look for the resurrection stone? Though, from what I understand, Fawkes intervened once more?”

            Hermione nodded. “Yeah, probably because it was somewhere magically protected.”

            “I was sorry to hear about James. I really thought it would work, but it seems some things must happen.”

            The hidden door to the house opened and Sirius Black walked through, coming to a hard stop as he stepped into the kitchen. “Regulus,” he breathed.

            Regulus stood standing in front of his brother. “Hello, Sirius.”

            Sirius’s hands shook. “You’re alive.”

            “As are you.”

            “You’re old.”

            Regulus laughed. “You’re one to talk, big brother.”

            Sirius rushed forward, pulling his brother into a hard hug. “I don’t care. I don’t care how old you are. You’re alive. Alive. Thank you, thank you.” He looked at Hermione and Severus, his eyes wet with tears.

            “It wasn’t us,” Hermione told him. “Actually, as it turns out, all of this was Regulus’s doing. My time travel, saving all of these people, it was your brother’s doing. He did it so he could save you.”

            Sirius pulled Regulus back. “You?”

            His brother chuckled embarrassed. “I mean me and Fawkes.”

            Sirius pulled him back into a hug. “I’m so proud of you. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, ever since I found out what you did with that locket. I’m sorry I gave up on you.”

            “You were just a kid too, Sirius. I’m just sorry I wasn’t brave enough to follow in your footsteps and leave our family. I was scared.”

            “I can’t blame you for that.”

            After a while, they all sat down at the kitchen table. Sirius pushed his hair out of his face.

            “You’re sure we can’t bring Harry here, so I can tell him about all this?”

            Severus glared at him. “For the hundredth time, no. If Riddle so much as caught a whiff that any of this was here it would be over. Harry has to remain ignorant until after the war.”

            “It just doesn’t seem fair.”

            Hermione patted his hand. “We know. But Harry can’t have his memories restored until the year after the war.”

            Severus gave Severus a stern look. “And you need to stop asking Lily. It was already so hard for her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see her son for eight years.”

            “It was almost as bad as when James died,” Hermione said sadly. “Saying goodbye to Harry when he was only eleven, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hug him or talk to him.”

            Sirius looked abashed. “I’m sorry. You’re right, of course.”

            Regulus patted his shoulder. “You’ve never been the patient one.”

            “Clearly,” Sirius chided at his brother. “How old are you, little brother?”

            “Fifty-four.”

            Sirius glowered at him. “Godric’s balls, Regulus. You’re an old man!”

            The room erupted into laughter.

Chapter Text

Nine Months Later:

            “It’s not good, is it?” Dumbledore said to Snape.

            Severus raised a dark eyebrow. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

            Dumbledore smiled softly. “We are close, Severus. Harry has almost persuaded Horace to reveal his memory. Keep me alive until then and all will be as it should be.”

            “It’s funny, you should say that.” Severus walked to the headmaster’s door and opened it. Hermione and the real Severus Snape walked through the door. “We thought the same thing.”

            Dumbledore shakily stood; his eyes gleaming. “What is going on here?”

            “Sit down,” the real Severus ordered.

            Dumbledore’s eyes fell on Hermione and his brow furrowed. “Miss Ranger? I have not seen you in…no, you are not Miss Ranger. Miss Granger, but an older one. You are… what? In your thirties?”

            She shrugged lightly. “I told you, Dumbledore. You wouldn’t understand until the time is right.”

            The old man sat down in his chair. “Clearly. Time Turner magic? As far as I know it is not possible to go so far back, not without something to supplement the ride.”

            “Fawkes. Your Fawkes, Headmaster. Apparently, he is not as loyal to you as any of us believed.”

            “And the two Severus’s. One of you is under Polyjuice, I am to assume.” His eyes flickered at the bird that stared back at him.

            The fake Severus nodded. “Any second now.” His body morphed until Regulus Black was revealed. “Headmaster.”

            “Regulus,” Dumbledore breathed. “You disappeared, your last year at Hogwarts. We all assumed the worst.”

            Severus looked at the door. “We don’t have time for this.”

            “You shall take the time, Severus. I may be dying but I am by no means powerless.”

            Hermione moved in front of her husband. “I wouldn’t threaten him, Headmaster. We have all had quite enough of your games.”

            “My games, Miss Granger? It seems to me the only game being played is one on me.”

            She crossed her arms. “Albus, shut the hell up. You want the reason why we’re here, why I am here, because you are right, I am Hermione Granger. That is, I am the Hermione Granger from two years from now. After the war. After the endless number of graves have been buried. After a broken society struggles to pick up the pieces, to understand the sheer amount of death.”

            “Riddle’s doing, but I am glad to hear the war has ended.”

            “Not just Riddle’s doing. Yours. You are a manipulative old bastard with a God complex and the lives lost to both wars was due to your own pride, your belief that only you could solve it.”

            Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “I am not responsible for Tom Riddle’s actions, Miss Granger.”

            “Then you believe you did your best?”

            “In war, there are hard decisions to be made, I do not expect you to understand—”

            Hermione slammed something down on the table, causing the old man to jump. “Oh, I understand perfectly. Look, Albus. This is the victory of war; this is what happens when lives matter more than your damning need to win!”

            Dumbledore leaned forward, his good hand lifting the glossy sheet. His face went white. “Impossible.”

            The picture was of the family of Spinner’s End. Those ‘lost’ in the first war, and even a few saved so far in the second and their husbands and wives and children. Dumbledore traced over Lily, his face darkening.

            “If Lily did not die, then Harry is not protected.”

            Severus folded his arms, leaning against the door. “Oh, he is. His father’s protection. James Potter died in Lily’s stead, but unlike your plan where Harry stayed in the abusive clutches of his muggle family, he was instead raised with his mother and stepfather.”

            A nasty look crossed over Dumbledore’s face. “And I’m to assume that stepfather, is you? Finally got what you wanted all along? Your precious Lily.”

            Severus’s face went pale in anger, but Regulus rushed over, putting a firming hand on his arm.

            Hermione clenched her fists. “Look closer in that picture, Albus,” her voice ominous. “It is not by Lily’s side that Severus is at.”

            Dumbledore looked down, almost bored. Then his brow furrowed. “You?”

            “Yes, Albus, you grotesque excuse for a human being, Severus and I have been married almost twenty years now, right – under – your – nose. We have three beautiful children and no thanks to the machinations of you, we have lived happily and will continue to do so long after you are gone. Every person in that picture was saved, not because they could be, but because they should have been. Fawkes knew it. These people would have died due to your pride and arrogance, your own disgusting need to attain power and glory. Their blood would have stained your hands red because you refused to do what is necessary, because it went counter to your own desires.”

            Dumbledore stared at the picture. “I never wanted any of them to die.”

            Regulus scoffed. “Really? So, James and Lily, the severe lack of security detail around them, the strange absence of anyone coming when they were ‘murdered’, that was what? An oversight.”

            “Or did it let you continue to manipulate me,” Severus continued. “And better yet, ensure that only you were looked to in this war? Not some child. No, a child could never best Albus Dumbledore.”

            Hermione raised her head. “And when that didn’t work, you decided to manipulate Harry. Take him under your wing so that in the end, you would still have the great victory. Too bad you won’t live to see it. Pride really did you in, didn’t it?” She gestured to his cursed hand.

            Dumbledore dropped the photo, his face a mask of unreadable emotion. His eyes flickered at Fawkes. “So, it is true, then, Fawkes? You betrayed me?”

            Regulus went over and smoothed the bird’s feathers down. “A phoenix is too powerful a creature to be bound by a wizard’s rules. If you had not let your pride destroy the good man underneath, Fawkes would never have acted.”

            “Am I truly such an evil man in your eyes?”

            “Evil? No. Deluded and fallen inside your own avarice, yes. It is not only us, Albus, or have you not noticed the silence of the portraits?”

            The old man looked around. The portraits were not sleeping but watching the exchange in interest. “You all agree, then?”

            Phineas Black waved a hand. “We all may be of different houses, born of different times, but we are Headmasters, bound to protect the children of this hallowed place. You have betrayed that edict; the moment you decided to use that poor Potter child for your own personal gain. Nay, Albus, we may not be able to betray you while you are still headmaster, but we do not agree with your actions. “

            The old man breathed out, his eyes falling on his withered hand. “So, I have been betrayed.”

            Hermione shook her head. “Are you truly unable to see the errors of your actions? Look what your secrecy has done – war already takes so much, but at your hand so many would have died it would have left the wizarding world almost irreparably broken.”

            “I am old, Miss Granger. It is impossible to change my ways now.”

            “Then if you will not change them then you will pretend to. You need to write a letter for us.”

            Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. “And I will do this why?”

            “Because we said, you doddering old fool,” Severus snapped. “Unlike you we still have a journey ahead of us and lives to save before this damned war is over.”

            The headmaster picked up the picture. “All of these would be dead because of me?”

            “Because of your secrets, your inaction, your placidity. Choose one.”

            “You were never on the side of Riddle, were you?”

            Severus smirked. “Never. And technically I was never on your side, either.”

            Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. And how does this plan of yours affect young Mister Malfoy? You have promised to protect him at all costs, Severus, and we both know what that means, your soul will be tainted, your name ruined…”

            Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Actually, his soul won’t. I was the one who took the Unbreakable Vow. In fact, I have been Severus since last summer, and my soul is already dark. I have zero qualms about putting you out of your misery.”

            “Stop acting like I’m an angel,” Severus said, grimacing at the man. “My soul has plenty marks on it.”

            “And I’ve told you before, your youthful ventures to protect innocent lives in an impossible situation has left your soul clear. I, on the other hand, killed because I enjoyed it. There is a difference. One is the weight of war; another is just murder.”

            Dumbledore raised a hand. “Not that I am not amused by this conversation, but what is the point of all of this. Why come here? Why reveal yourselves to me?”

            Hermione scoffed. “I think it would have been obvious.”

            He raised an eyebrow.

            “Your soul. We are giving you one last chance to save yourself.”

            For a moment, Dumbledore’s face was emotionless. “You are giving me a chance? If my crimes are so heinous in your eyes, then why would you bother?”

            Severus stepped forward. “Harry. He looks up to you, for better or worse, and for his sake we wanted to preserve your soul.”

            Fawkes squawked and flew over to the desk. It bowed its head at Dumbledore and the old man stared back. “Even you?” The bird nodded. Dumbledore looked at the three of them, his eyes tired. “I can make no promises, but clearly, I don’t have a choice.”

            “You don’t,” the three of them said together.

            He lifted the picture one more time, his fingers tracing over each face. A tear fell down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The three were silent as the Headmaster sobbed.

Chapter Text

            “Are you ready for this,” Severus said while holding Hermione’s hand.

            The woman looked around at the group that was gathered in her living room. It had been a long journey. Years and years that were going to finally culminate in this one moment; today Voldemort would die. “Yes. I just miss the kids.”

            He caressed her cheek. “I do, as well.”

            Lily came up to them, a soft smile on her lips. “It was safer for them to be sent away. I didn’t want the boys to be anywhere around here either. They’re safer with the Marlowe’s across the pond.”

            “How long are we going to just stand around here?” A sharp voice said.

            Severus grimaced at Moody. “You know, just because I saved you doesn’t mean I won’t still let you die today.”

            Moody’s good eye wrinkled in amusement. “I wouldn’t count falling into your lap as being saved by you, Severus.”

            Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “And I thought I was the only one who did that, husband.”

            Almost two years ago, Severus had been with the Death Eaters who had attacked Harry when the Order had impersonated the boy to get him to safety. It hadn’t been the plan, but not long after Severus had injured George (to protect him, of course), he had flown low to get away from the group and Mad-Eye Moody had literally fallen from the sky on top of him. It was by far their most awkward and violent save yet. Alastair had been insanely difficult to convince.

            Severus glared at all of them. “Enough of this. Listen, everyone,” he began. The group gathered around; it consisted of Severus, Hermione, Alastair, Sirius, Fabian, Lily, Gideon, Dorcas, Frank, Alice and Marlene. Several others had offered but Hermione had worried that too many would risk exposure. Regulus was already at Hogwarts as a polyjuiced Severus. Cordelia had set up the Transition house as a medical bay and several of those saved were waiting to help in case injuries occurred. “The plan is simple. We will go in disillusioned at several key spots in the castle and wait. You have all been given your lists, if you see one of those you hope to save, protect them and give them the Draught of Living Death.”

            Dorcas raised her hand. “Why can’t we do what we did in the first war with the Death Eaters? I mean, it was distasteful, but effective.”

            Hermione shook her head. “The battle goes on too long. The bodies are laid out in the Great Hall for hours before Harry and Riddle actually fight and you can’t give Polyjuice to a dead body. The Draught will keep them in a mostly dead state until we can switch them out with the fake bodies to be buried which you will do with the portkeys you’ve been given. Most of the dead get covered and taken away just a few hours after Riddle is defeated. Just remember, you need to communicate with the main base about who you saved. Our opportunity to bring those saved is when Riddle is telling everyone Harry is dead. There’s almost no one in the Great Hall at that time.” Her eyes turned weary. “You aren’t going to be able to save everyone.”

            Severus squeezed her hand. “Today will be hard. You will want to save everyone you see, but it’s just not possible. We are still going to lose many today, but if you save even one life… that is enough.”

            All eyes locked on him and they nodded, their eyes hard.

            “Don’t risk yourselves,” Hermione said. “It’s not worth it if we lose you in lieu of someone else. It’s going to be a mess there, but I’ve given you as detailed list of today’s events as I could make.”

            Fabian crossed over to her and squeezed her shoulder. “Hermione, you have done everything you could. We are ready.”

            Gideon followed him. “More than ready. Your plan is solid, like terrifyingly so.”

            Hermione smiled at them appreciatively. She knew they were worried. Their main goal today was to save Fred, their nephew. For Hermione, it was saving Colin Creevey. His young face had haunted Hermione’s dreams for years. It had been the most unfair death of the whole battle. He had been far too young to die in such a way.

            Mad-Eye slammed his fake leg down. “Let’s go, enough of this chit-chat.”

            There was a simultaneous eye-rolling at him before everyone gathered around the portkey that would take them for the last time for a long time to Hagrid’s hut.

            It was an hour before the Battle. Disillusioned and hidden inside alcoves and behind paintings, the group waited impatiently. Each member of the group was partnered with one other, their lists held in their hands. Some would be impossible, but Hermione had done her best to give them all an accurate timeline, but they couldn’t be everywhere, and some information wouldn’t be right. It was a battle, after all.

            The castle crescendo’d with noise. It had begun.

            Sirius was partnered with Marlene. Their main goal: Remus and Tonks.

            “After this is over,” Marlene whispered. “I want you to come to America and meet my family.”

            He raised an eyebrow at her. “Meeting the parents, huh? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

            “You’re just afraid.”

            “Is that a dare, Miss Meadowes?”

            Marlene looked at him steadily. “If you expect me to be Missus Black in the future, then yes.”

            Sirius smirked. “Dare accepted, kitten.”

            She swallowed, looking out from their little alcove. They could hear the sounds of battle drawing closer to them. “I’m afraid.”

            “We can do this.”

            Light and fire erupted around them. Remus and Nymphadora ran into sight, Death Eaters on their heels.

            Sirius gripped his wand tightly. “It’s too fast!”

            They stepped out, attempting to throw out shields, but Marlene was thrown backwards by a stunning spell. Sirius tossed one of the portkeys at her disillusioned form and she snapped away; he only had seconds. At that moment he knew he had to make a decision. He couldn’t save both of them by himself. His heart pounded against his chest.

            Lupin or Tonks?

            Lupin was his best friend, the only one he had left from the old days. But he also knew how much his werewolf friend loved the woman next to him; Lupin would never forgive Sirius if   he saved him. Not when his life was hell because of his curse. No, Sirius Black knew what his good-hearted friend would choose. Tears streaked down his face as he raised his wand. It was then that multiple things happened at once, the shield blocked Tonks, but something else appeared at that moment. Sirius gaped at the sight in front of him.

            Gideon and Fabian watched as their nephews fought, pride filling their hearts. When the wall collapsed, the twins rushed forward. Their movements were perfect. Fred fell and Fabian levitated him while Gideon spelled the falling stones to be as soft as pillows. In the rising dust, they imperio’d Fred to take the Draught of Living Death. Then Fabian kicked him in the head, knocking him out and leaving a hard imprint against his face.

            They rushed back to their spot. “Kinda feel bad kicking him like that,” Fabian said.

            “He’s alive, Fabs, that’s all that matters.”

            “How long that take us?”

            Gideon looked down at his watch, a gift from Hermione. “Fifteen seconds.”

            “Damn, our practice runs were better.”

            “Let’s just go, we still have five people on this list we could save.”

            Fabian shrugged. “Giddy, can I just enjoy this moment a bit? We did it.”

            “No.”

            “You just want to go because you and your crazy wife have a bet who can save the most people.”

            Gideon snorted. “Like that’s a bad thing.” He looked down at the list. “She promised she’d take me and the twins to Disney.”

            They were running down the hall now. “Your twins are teenagers. You really think they want to hang out with their parents?”

            “It’s that or I have to renovate the house again.”

            Fabian raised an eyebrow. “Good Godric, what does she want now?”

            “Dueling room.”

            “Only Dorcas.”

            Hours later, the Transition house was full of people. Hermione was bundled up in a corner, shaking. She had managed to save only three out of her list of seven; luckily, Colin was one of them, but her heart felt like it was broken. Severus was helping Cordelia get the worst injured attended to. The worst was Lavender Brown; blood literally pooled around her.

            Marlene was working on her, her face pale with worry. She had been almost inconsolable when she realized Sirius had sent her back to protect her; it was only when the injured had started arriving that she snapped out of it. Hermione shakily stood.

            “How is she?”

            Marlene wiped a bloody hand across her face. “Oh, Hermione,” Marlene cried. “I don’t think… I can do it. That bastard did a number on her.”

            Hermione pressed a firming hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Do what you can. At least—” Sob. “—Try. Whatever you do is more of a chance than she had.”

            Severus came up to them. “It’s over,” he told them. “Fabian just sent a notification over the galleon, the last of the Death Eaters have been rounded up. Well, those that didn’t run away with their tails between their legs.”

            The room stilled for a moment as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, then the noise raised again. Many they had saved were still severely injured by the battle and it would be a long night.

            Hermione grabbed Severus. “Where’s Regulus? He should have portkeyed back after the snake.”

            Severus looked around. “Mad-Eye should have gone and checked on him.” Seeing the look on Hermione’s face. “I’ll go and check.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I’ve done all I can here.” Severus went to the other side of the room and grabbed one of the portkeys disappearing from sight.

            Hermione heard a moan across the room and ran across the room. In a corner was Sirius. “Sirius, when did you get back?”

            “Just a bit ago.” He looked exhausted. “I couldn’t save anyone else. I’m sorry.”

            “Then?” She sat down next to him.

            “It was chaos. I had to make a choice, Hermione. I had to choose between my best friend and his wife.”

            Hermione gripped his knee. “Oh, Sirius.” Her heart went out to him. “Who… who did you save?”

            He pulled his fingers through his hair. “Tonks. I saved Tonks. I knew it’s what Remus would want.”

            Hermione looked around at the beds. “Where is she?”

            He pointed to far across the room. “They are over there.”

            “They?”

            “I saved Tonks. James saved Lupin.” Sirius pulled his hands over his face. “He appeared right when I cast my shield and saved Remus from the killing curse. James told me it was his gift to his friend. Hermione, he… he did something.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            Sirius brushed away a tear that ran down his face. “James said he was going to use the last of the power from the resurrection stone. He took away the werewolf curse. Remus is finally free.”

            Hermione stood sharply. “But how?” She felt like she might hyperventilate.

            Sirius followed suit. “No idea, but James can’t come back anymore. He said from now on he is stuck in the Spirit World. Said he’d be watching.”

            “Do you think he planned it from the beginning?”

            Sirius finally smiled. “Probably. Severus was right; he’s a sentimental bastard.”

            Severus disillusioned himself and all but ran to the Whomping Willow. Crawling through the small tunnel, he stepped into the Shrieking Shack.

            Alastair was on his good knee in front of a body. “Severus,” he said, quietly. His scarred face was stony.

            “What happened?”

            “I came moments after.” Moddy shakily stood and handed a letter to Severus. “He was alive, but barely. The phoenix was here, I asked it to cry on him, but the pigeon wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

            Severus opened the letter:

            “Dear friends,

            If you are reading this, then everything has gone as it should, and I am dead. I always knew it would end like this, but do not weep for me. I am with my family again; the truth is, I lied to you. I did marry and have a beautiful son, but they left me. A train accident in France took them from me long ago; it was why I couldn’t bear Sirius’s death. I couldn’t let anyone else I loved die. I should have been with them, but I was a coward. They were visiting family in Britain, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave the safety of France. It is my biggest regret. I hope that I have redeemed myself in their eyes and they will accept me in the Spirit world.

            “I have left Sirius a letter as well. He will understand some day. Tell him to name his son after me; that will make him happy. Be happy, Severus and Hermione, for me.”

            Severus carefully folded the letter and put it in his robe pocket. “There’s nothing we can do here. Let’s finish this.”

            Moody nodded. “Would it go outside of your ‘unknown’ rules if I kicked Voldemort’s corpse on our way back?”

            “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Chapter Text

            Molly Weasley began laying out the table, her fingers shaking slightly. It was her second Christmas since her Fred had died. Her heart felt like it was going to break. George was doing better since Ron had left auror training to help at the store; but there was still a haunted look to his eyes. It felt like a piece of her soul was missing. She knew she was luckier than most, but it still felt like the wars had taken too much. Losing Fred felt like losing her brothers all over again. All she could do was bake and put on a brave face for her kids.

            Ron came in and sat down a large pile of gifts. “Hermione’s not coming.”

            Molly put her hands on her hips. “And whose fault is that?”

            “Hers?” He said grumpily.

            “Ronald Weasley, I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours sometimes.”

            “Ma, what do you want me to do? All she talks about is the war—”

            Molly grabbed the gifts off the table. “Of course she does. Why wouldn’t she? Hermione is a smart girl with a big heart.”

            “Doesn’t help any to dwell on it. You don’t.”

            “Oh, Ronald. Is that what you think? I think about the war all the time, but what would you kids do if I fell apart? I have all of you to keep me going every day, but who does Hermione have? Her parents are lost to her, her friends are moving on with their lives, all she has is time to think.”

            “I’m not her friend, I’m her boyfriend… sort of.” Ron tried to grab a mini mince pie, and his mother swatted his hand.

            Molly rolled her eyes. “A shared kiss in the heat of battle does not a relationship make, Ronald.”

            His face went red. “I mean, maybe it’s not conventional—”

            “It’s not… anything, my dear son. And you know it.”

            Ron shuffled his feet. “Why don’t you just rip my heart out while you’re at it, Ma?”

            Molly patted his cheek. “It’s a mother’s job to set her kids straight.”

            A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the family.

            “Ma, that was great,” George said, hugging her around her shoulders. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes were hanging loose on his frame.

            Molly squeezed him back. “Happy Christmas, George.”

            The house was filled with the Weasley family and Harry Potter. They all jumped as an owl knocked on the kitchen window. Percy stood and let it in. It had a small parcel attached to its foot.

            Arthur took the letter that was tied to the top. “What is this,” he said. “Ah, it’s from Hermione. She says that inside the parcel is a portkey that will take us to the best Christmas present we’ve ever had before.”

            Harry raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

            Ginny poked his ribs. “Like you’d know. Haven’t talked to her in months, have you?”

            “We’ve been busy planning our wedding,” he started, then he frowned. “You’re right, though. I haven’t really, have I?”

            “Of course, I am.” She snatched the letter out of her father’s hands. “It says the portkey turns on at seven; that’s five minutes from now.”

            Bill opened it, revealing a large mug. “Looks like something Hagrid would use.”

            They all gathered around, waiting. Their own curiosity too much. When it was time, the large Weasley clan pressed their hands on it and disappeared.

            When they reappeared, they were in a large room that seemed underground. Hagrid was waiting for them.

            Harry walked forward first, hugging the large man. “What are you doing here, Hagrid?”

            “Easin’ the transition,” Hagrid said, giddily. He looked like he was about to jump from his skin he was so excited.

            Ginny looked around. “Where’s Hermione?”

            “Well, that be the thing. ‘Bout a month ago, Hermione was thrown back in time.”

            “What?” Harry, Ron and Ginny yelled.

            Hagrid chuckled. “It’s a long story.”

            “How far did she go?” Ron looked sick. “I mean, time-turners can only go back a little bit, can’t they?”

            Hagrid scratched his head. “Well, due to a few outside influences, Hermione was thrown back twenty years.”

            The crowd went silent. Molly bunched her apron in her hands. “Oh, no. Oh, no. The poor dear.”

            “See, I’m getting’ why Hermione uses the pernsieve for this. There be just so many of ya’. It’d take forever and we don’ have all night.” Which was true, the Weasley clan consisted of Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny and Harry.

            Harry’s brow was furrowed. “Hermione can’t come back, can she? I mean, she already has, hasn’t she, just the long way around.”

            “Too smart, for ya own good, Harry.”

            Ron looked green. “But if that’s the case, she’s thirty-eight years old.”

            “Thirty-nine, Ron,” Ginny said, impatiently. “She was a year older than you boys. Is she alright?”

            “Well, had a special mission, she did.”

            Arthur strode forward. “A special mission? Like from Dumbledore?”

            Hagrid’s face turned dark. “No, not from him. I’m sorry, Harry, but Dumbledore wa’nit the man you thought, he was.”

            Arthur crossed his arms. “Can you please just tell us, Hagrid?”

            “Hermione wa’ chosen by a good man to correct the evils of the wars. Bring light to the darkness.”

            Molly joined her husband. “What does that mean? What did that poor girl have to do? She’s been through quite enough.” Arthur nodded his head in agreement.

            “Best I show ya’. Favorite part, this is. Been doing this for the las’ few weeks and it ne’er gets old.” Hagrid whistled.

            Two forms walked from the shadows.

            Molly collapsed to her knees. “No, no. It’s not possible.”

            Fabian and Gideon looked at one another, grinning. “Hello, Molls.”

            “You’re dead.” Molly was sobbing, Arthur’s arms tight around her.

            Gideon knelt in front of her. “We should have been, but thanks to Hermione she tricked the Death Eaters and saved our lives. We’ve been in hiding, waiting for this very moment.”

            Fabian grabbed Molly’s hands and pulled her up. Her whole body was shaking as they pulled her into a deep hug.

            Arthur looked at them kindly. “So much time to have to wait. I can’t imagine how hard your lives must’ve been.”

            Fabian pulled back from his sister, wiping her cheeks. “Not as hard as you think, Arthur. Don’t you recognize us?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “What my brother is trying to say is we have been with you more than you think. We’re the owners of Zonko’s Joke shop, Bilton Blimes—”

            “—And we’ve been polyjuiced as Severus at Hogwarts quite a bit too.”

            George rushed forward. “Wait, you’re Bilton Blimes? Me and Fred loved that place. You always gave us free stuff.”

            “We know,” Fabian and Gideon said together. “Sorry, Molly,” Gideon said.

            Molly wiped her tears that wouldn’t stop running. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here. But, oh, your lives. Trapped in such a dark place.”

            “Trapped,” Fabian laughed. “Not by a long shot, Molls. This is the rec hall. Our house is above our heads where our families are.”

            “Families? You two… you two got married?” Molly’s face was shining in disbelief and hope.

            The twins nodded. “Indeed, we did,” Gideon said. “I have two, twins, a boy and girl. And Fabian has four. Two adopted, a boy and girl, and two boys.”

            Molly started sobbing again. “I want to meet them.”

            “Well, to do that, we sort of have to do something first,” Fabian said. He swallowed hard and looked at Harry who was looking at him with mild interest. “Harry, can you come here?”

            The boy-who-lived walked over to him. “What do you need me for?”

            “To release the memory charms on you, son.” He looked at the Weasleys and smiled uncomfortably. “See, Hermione didn’t just save us. She saved your mum too.”

            Harry went white. “Mum? She saved my mum?”

            “The truth is… you’ve been here with the rest of us until you were eleven. You grew up with her, Harry. The memories you have with the Dursley’s before then were fabricated.”

            Hagrid rested a big hand on Harry’s shoulder. “See, Hermione had to follow rules, Harry. She could save people as long as she did it in a way that didn’t affect the timeline. Noone could know what she did and those she saved had to wait until the right time.”

            Ginny wrapped an arm around her fiancée. “You’re saying all the bad memories Harry has. They aren’t real?”

            Gideon shrugged. “Well, before he was eleven anyway. We hated doing it, Harry. Your mum damn near lost her mind you having to be with the Dursley’s at all.”

            Harry swallowed. “But you couldn’t risk it. Once Voldemort came back it would have risked all of you. It makes sense. If Hermione had affected anything, then Riddle may not have died, I could have died. Godric, so many things could have gone wrong. Leave it to Hermione. Restore my memories, please.”

            The twins nodded. Fabian raised his wand, a tear running down his face. He flicked it and Harry’s face went slack, then he gasped, his hands going to his head as he doubled over. Ginny and Ron grabbed hold of him.

            “What did you do?” Ron said angrily.

            “Eleven years,” Gideon said. “It’s a lot to remember.”

            Harry was bowled over for a few minutes before he shakily straightened. His hands were shaking as his eyes fell on Fabian whose fists were clenched, his face tight. “Da?”

            The Weasley clan gave an adjoined in shock. “Da?”

            Fabian lifted his arms and Harry rushed forward, gripping the man tightly. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much, Harry. So much.”

            Ron shook his head. “I don’t understand anything.”

            Harry pulled away from Fabian, his adoptive father, wiping away a tear. “Fabian married my mum.”

            Molly gasped. “The adoptive children you said you had. That was Harry? You married Lily Potter?”

            “And adopted her two children.” Fabian ruffled Harry’s hair. “Mary misses you terribly by the way, and the boys.”

            “Wait,” Ron interjected. “I’m sorry, but what happened to James? Couldn’t Hermione save him.” Ginny kicked him.

            Harry shook his head. “No. I remember, now, ma told me. Dad, James, he took my mom’s place. Polyjuiced himself to look like her so that I would be protected, but that ma could survive.” He smiled softly. “Fabian has been a father to me since then.”

            Molly clutched her chest. “Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe it. Who did you marry Gids?”

            “Dorcas. You remember her, Arthur? Hermione saved her, too.”

            “Oh, Dorcas, yes, yes, I do,” Arthur said clapping his hands. “I always thought there was something going on between the two of you, but then, well, we thought you had died. Fiery thing, she was, or I suppose is.”

            Fabian wrapped an arm around Harry. “Now, I know, all of you are probably a bit overwhelmed, but before you meet the rest of our family, there’s one other person we need to introduce you to.”

            Gideon hopped over to George and grabbed him. “You’re going to want to stand over here. Georgie.”

            The room went deathly silent as steps echoed from the shadows. Molly sobbed loudly as the form came into the light.

            Fred Weasley.

            Geroge ran, half-stumbling to his twin, throwing his arms around Fred. “I knew it! I knew it, you bastard. I knew you weren’t dead!”

            The Weasley clan rushed forward, enveloping George and Fred. The room exploded into noise.

            Fabian gripped his son by his shoulders. “You don’t seem surprised.”

            “It’s like a puzzle has suddenly been solved in my head. All the memories, all the stories you and ma told, Hermione. God, that’s the only weird thing, da. She’s been my best friend for eight years, but before that… she was my aunt. Her and…” He laughed. “Oh, Godric, Ron is going to lose it.”

            Fabian chuckled. “Well, the day isn’t over yet, son. There’s still a few more surprises tonight.”

Chapter Text

            After a while of tearful reunions, everyone gathered in the basement recreation room. Hagrid left to bring down Fabian and Gideon’s families which started a whole new round of greetings. It was especially poignant when Harry and Lily met again. Lily cried gripping her son so tightly that he could hardly breathe, but he never complained, holding her just as tightly.

            Hermione finally came down, an awkward look upon her face. It would be her first time seeing her best friends and the Weasleys since she went back in time. Harry saw her first, barreling into her. “Aunt Hermione, thank you,” he said into her bushy hair.

            She patted him on the back. “It was nothing, Harry.” Hermione pulled him back and kissed him on the forehead. “We’re family… in all the ways that are important, and I would do anything for you. I love you.”

            “I love you too, Hermione,” Harry told her. “You know, it’s weird. I mean, you were my best friend, but now I also remember everything else. The birthdays, the Christmases, playing with Septimus and Neville.”

            “You think it’s weird for you,” Hermione said, giving him a long, enduring look. “I changed my best friend’s diaper.”

            His cheeks went red. “Oh, Merline’s beard, Aunt Hermione.”

            She chuckled. “Sorry, shouldn’t embarrass you in front of your fiancée.”

            Ginny walked up. “Ooh, we’re embarrassing Harry? Count me in.” She smiled shyly at Hermione. “You’ve really grown up. I mean, I knew what they said, but the reality is a little harder to take.”

            Hermione shrugged. “You know, you’d get on well with my daughter, August. She’s a year younger than you. Her and Harry’s sister, Mary, are best friends.”

            “Are you setting me up to be friends with your kids?”

            “I mean, she is a lot like me.”

            Ginny folded her arms. “Hermione Granger, don’t think for one instant I still don’t consider you a friend – not after everything you did for our family.”

            Molly walked up then. “I agree with my daughter,” she said, pulling Hermione into a deep hug. “I can’t even… Oh, Hermione, what you have done for us, I still don’t believe I’m not dreaming.”

            Harry nodded. “How many did you end up saving in the end?”

            “Thirty-two,” Hermione told him. “And, as a result, so far, there have been twenty-five births on top of that.”

            Molly caressed her cheek. “So many.”

            “It’ll never feel like enough.”

            “No, I imagine it won’t. War always feels like that, my dear.”

            “So,” Ginny drawled, a smirk on her lips. “You’re married. Who’s the lucky guy?”

            “Umm, he’s hiding at the moment with our youngest, May. We still have a few more people that would like to come down before I reveal that little tidbit.”

            “What did you do, Hermione, that you’re afraid to tell us,” Ginny teased.

            Harry laughed. “Oh, you are all going to die from the shock of it.”

            “Mark me beyond curious, right now.”

            Hermione turned and nodded to Hagrid, who smiled back at her, and called into the shadows. “Harry, you’ll like this.”

            The boy turned just as Sirius, Marlene, Remus, Tonks, little Teddy (their son) and Moody came out. “Hermione,” he breathed. “How? I mean, seriously, how?”

            “Sirius was easy; Severus did it himself, oh, and, well, I suppose, Moody too. Though that was technically an accident. I’ll tell you later. Sirius saved Tonks, and James saved Lupin.”

            Harry hugged her quickly before greeting them. He wept openly as Remus told him the full extent of James’s gift. The man looked better than he ever had, his body fuller, his face open and bright. Lupin looked as if the weight of the world had lifted off of him.

            Ron shuffled over to Hermione, staring her up and down. “Hi, Hermione.”

            “Ron, it’s so good to see you.”

            “So, I guess we’re not dating anymore?”

            Hermione barked out a laugh. “No, Ron, I don’t think that would appropriate. I’m old enough to be your mother.”

            His face turned red, and he frowned at the floor. “We weren’t ever going to date, were we?”

            “I think you know the answer to that.”

            “Yeah, I guess. Did you try to come back?”

            Hermione cocked her head at him. “If you had the chance to save all these people, would you?”

            Ron sighed. “I don’t know, but I was never as smart as you were.”

            Hermione patted his cheek. “You are plenty smart, dear.”

            “Oh, Merlin, you sound like my mother.”

            “I am a mother, Ron.”

            Ron’s brow furrowed. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

            “Soon.” Hermione looked around the room. “Everyone, if you could all gather in the middle of the room, I can set up the tables for food and drinks.” The room obeyed, and she flicked her wand, tables laden down with Christmas desserts and snacks appeared along with several Christmas trees.

            Gideon came up to her, his arm firmly around Molly, all but dragging her along with him. “Who else is coming, Harmony, my love?”

            Hermione rolled her eyes. “The rest of the Marlowes, our kids should be coming with, the Barnes and the Longbottoms. Everyone else will be spending Christmas with their own families.”

            “A mad house, then? I don’t think we’ve had the whole gang since Harry was here.”

            When Fredrick Barnes came down with his family, Fred Weasley excitedly raced forward. “George, I want you to meet Fred.”

            Fredrick gave Fred a smile. “So, this is the famous brother?”

            George smirked. “Same name, huh? It’s like your twins!”

            Fredrick gave them a woeful look. “Good lord, you two are the same. Fred said the exact same thing t’ me when we met.”

            Hermione walked up. “Fredrick, how are you doing?”

            “I’m good. I mean, you know how it is.”

            “Of course,” she said, her eyes sad. Six months ago, Cordelia collapsed and passed away due to an aneurysm. It was so sudden that Fredrick couldn’t get help to her in time. He hadn’t had time to grieve; he had seven children, though all but two were out of the house now and his business kept him busy.

            Fred put an arm around him. “Good man. Muggle, you know?” He told George. “Oh, let’s take him to da. You’ll love this, Fredrick.” He pulled the man away, his twin following close behind.

            Harry ran up to her. “Hey, Aunt Hermione. Aunt Marlene just told me about Lavender. I’m so sorry.”

            “Thanks, Harry. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

            “She was your friend too, Hermione. I mean, I know things weren’t easy when you were young, but you can’t blame yourself. She killed herself.”

            Hermione breathed out. “I just wish… I don’t even know. Maybe I should have talked to her more.”

            “She was horribly scarred and infected with the werewolf virus. I don’t know if there was anything you could have said that would have made it better for her.”

            “Still,” Hermione said.

            “Still, Hermione, you can’t blame yourself. You tried. Aunt Marlene tried. It was just too much.”

            Ginny swept up to them. “Alright, Hermione, I think we all deserve to know now… who is your mysterious husband.”

            The room quieted. Hermione rolled her eyes. “You are incorrigible, Ginny.”

            Fred called from the other side of the room. “Yeah, Hermione, tell the fam who your husband is.” He chuckled evilly, his eyes flickering at Ron who perked up.

            “Oh, goodness, alright, alright.” Hermione pulled out her wand and her patronus ran from the room. A moment later, a male otter trotted down.

            “No,” the male otter said.

            “Husband, get down here, right now! You are not leaving me to deal with this by myself.”

            The male otter ran up the steps to relay the message.

            A few moments later, May, now five, ran down the steps, pulling at her father. “I want to see mommy,” the girl said, practically hanging off of him. “And see all the people. Come on, daddy.”

            The Weasley clan’s jaws dropped as Severus Snape walked into the room. He glared at them.

            “No fucking way,” Ron roared, he dropped the plate he was holding. “Tell me this is a joke. Anyone?”

            Gideon and Fabian came up to him, throwing their arms around their nephew. “Sorry, Ron, afraid not.”

            Ron’s eyes fell on Hermione. “How could you marry your potions professor? He was horrible.”

            “Technically,” Gideon said. “We were horrible.”

            Ron frowned at them.

            Fabian grinned. “We said before, didn’t we? We polyjuiced ourselves as Severus, oh, what, half of every month for over fifteen years.”

            “It was a competition, see,” Gideon told the boy. “Who could act the most like Severus Snape. ‘Turn to page 394,’ That was me.”

            Ron rubbed his temples. “Okay, so who called Hermione an insufferable-know-it-all?”

            “That would be me,” Severus said, dryly. “And she was.”

            Hermione gave her husband a lop-sided smile. “If I am, then you are, swot.”

            May let go of her father and gave her mother a big hug. Harry waved at the little girl. “I don’t know this one.”

            “Yes, well, she was somewhat of a surprise.”

            Molly chuckled. “Those are the best ones. George and Fred were unexpected gifts as well.” The twins smiled at their mother and blew her kisses.

            Severus walked up to his wife; to the Weasley clan’s surprise, Harry hugged him, keeping an arm around the man’s waist. “By surprise, Hermione means that she can’t keep her hands off me.”

            Hermione blushed. “Like you’re complaining.”

            Ron, who was standing steadily on the other side of the room, gagged. “This day is turning into a nightmare.”

            Harry sighed, giving Ron a long-wearied look. “Look, Ron, I know it’s hard to wrap your head around, but Uncle Severus is the best. He’s my godfather.”

            “I thought Sirius is your godfather.”

            Sirius, his arm around Marlene, guffawed. “Well, James brought up the good point that I didn’t make a very good one locked up in Azkaban. Who am I to argue with a dead man?”

            “So,” Ron said slowly. “Hermione married Severus Snape who, by the way, tortured us during school, and is also Harry’s godfather. I have fallen into an alternate reality where everything is turned on its head.”

            “You’ll get over it,” Bill said. “Because the real alternative is that our brother and our uncles are dead.” His voice was friendly but sharp and Ron dropped his head, ashamed.

            Hermione stepped toward Ron. “I know it’s a lot to wrap your head around. If you or anyone else would like to, you can all come back tomorrow and look at the memories. It is a much more palatable way of seeing all the information.”

            Ron crossed his arms. “Sure, Hermione, I don’t think I want a front row seat to your romance with Professor Snape.”

            Fabian smacked Ron’s head. “It wouldn’t be like that, nephew. The memories just show the how’s and the why’s.”

            Gideon mimicked his brother. “Yeah, don’t be a git, Ronnie. We’re all very protective of our Hermione and Severus.”

            Ron rubbed his head. “Okay, okay, bloody hell. Give a man some time to think.”

            “Not possible,” Fred yelled from across the room. George chuckled, “Yeah, Ronnie-kins, that would require you to have a brain.”

            “Geez, I’m surrounded. I give.”

            Everyone in the room laughed. More people showed up as the night waned on and Hermione and Severus slowly moved until they were against a wall, just watching. May was asleep in a chair next to them. The party would last until the early morning with only one or two parents disappearing to put their children to bed.

            Molly kept a solid grip on Fred most of the night, occasionally pulling him down so she could pepper him with kisses. Hermione could see how happy it made the twin, who, like his brother, had felt less like an individual to his parents who couldn’t even tell them apart most of their lives. For the first time, Fred was seen for himself, and he had his mother’s sole attention. When Molly wasn’t doting on him, she was talking to her brothers and getting to know them again.

            Harry passed out in the early hours running ragged trying to talk to everyone. Severus finally slipped a sleeping draught into his pumpkin juice knowing the stress of recalling so many memories had to be hard on his godson. Lily and Ginny levitated him to his old room and the two women didn’t come back, Hermione assumed so they could talk and get to know each other.

            They had had such gatherings for weeks before, but this was the first one that hit so close to home. Hermione’s favorite though had to be with Colin Creevey. Bringing him back to his parents made everything about the last twenty years’ worth it.

            She laid her head on Severus’s shoulder. “I love you, husband.”

            Severus moved his arm so he could wrap it around her. “I love you, wife.”

Chapter Text

            The next few months would be emotional. For the first time, Spinner’s End was hectic with wizards and witches walking through the street as family and friends spent time with one another. It came as a surprise when Hermione revealed how she kept the secrets of those she saved. The shock of the Death Eaters being used as ‘replacements’ was only offset by her muggle holographic technology which she used frequently over the years. Mainly to convince Harry that his ‘ghost’ parents were really visiting him, such as when Voldemort returned from the dead and they ‘appeared’ out of his wand or at the end, when the resurrection stone showed him his parents and the Marauders.

The Ministry had its hands full when those long marked dead walked into the main building and asked to have their lives restored. There were talks about the ethical dilemma of Hermione’s travel to the past, but since those responsible were no longer around (and one was a magical creature) the matter eventually faded. How Hermione and Severus had saved everyone was kept a strict secret; despite the fact that it was the one thing they had not asked of those rescued when they took their Unbreakable Vows. The couple had always planned on admitting their crimes, but none of their friends would let them. It was war and it was over.

            As time went on, it became clear that memories were short and soon even the novelty of the Time-Traveler passed into rumor and myth.

            When Septimus returned, recently graduated from the American school of Wizardry, he would join Harry as an auror. The boys (Harry, Ron, Neville and Septimus) would become inseparable as friends. Sept, who was as reserved as his father, became one of the most powerful aurors in the wizarding world, he would marry Fredrick’s sixth child, the young girl who was born just a short time before he was. August, Marigold and Ginny would become fast friends as Hermione predicted. August would marry Fred Weasley; and Mary Potter would marry Neville, her brother’s childhood best friend who she had a secret crush on for years.

            Fabian and Gideon would move their families closer to the Burrow with the Longbottom’s not far behind them. For many of those who had been with Hermione since the beginning it had become strange to think of being apart. In fact, when it came time for the Prewitts to move, they persuaded Fredrick and his last two kids to move with them, refusing to leave the widower alone. As a result, Fredrick and Arthur would become close friends with Fredrick passing his business onto his oldest son, officially retiring so he and his new pal could tinker with Muggle items.

            The Marauders would eventually settle near the Burrow as well after a few years. Lupin and Tonks living with her mother until she passed away; which was around Teddy’s eleventh birthday. They would have four more children, which they blamed on Lupin’s exuberance after being cured of his lycanthropy. Sirius and Marlene would eventually get married (after he braved meeting her parents) and would have one child, a daughter.

Hagrid would continue to work as a professor for magical creatures for the next fifteen years. To everyone's surprise, he would reveal himself as quite the master in the subject. Without the need for secrecy to protect his friends, he flourished, even writing books on the subject that would be considered the equal of Newt Scamandar. Fifteen years later, Hagrid would leave his post, the last of the Spinner's End children having graduated. He was offered many places to go by his good friends, including Harry, the Prewitts and the Longbottoms, but his home ended up with the Snapes. His friendship with Severus too strong to live too far from him. He would stay near them while they were in Britain and eventually go with them when they retired, taking care of the large wooded property they owned. Severus and Hagrid would spend hours walking through the woods, connected in a way that only they understood, as lovers of nature and wild things. Hagrid would live a happy and long life beside his friends, the two people who always saw him as more than just a half-giant. Hermione and Severus loved Hagrid and he loved them; their friendship surpassing time and space. He had helped them with their children, sat with them in their darkest moments, and laughed in their brightest.

            The rest of those saved would go on to lead happy lives with children and grandchildren. They would never forget Hermione, Regulus or Severus and for the sacrifices they made in protecting their lives. The wizarding world would write books and articles about the powerful magic and how it changed the depth of the war. The auror office, with Septimus and Harry at the lead, would revitalize it to protect lives focusing on preemptive and proactive training; using his parents as an example, Septimus changed how wizards protected each other.

            Despite the many failures of Albus Dumbledore, Hermione often went on record that she believed in the end, he did the right thing. Though many others came out against him, unable to allow the old Headmaster’s hubris to go unspoken. Public opinion of the man did change, but most still chose to believe that Dumbledore was a good and powerful wizard.

            Hermione and Severus stayed at Spinner’s End for several years as their children grew up, only leaving in the summer to visit their ‘retirement’ home in the heavy forests of Tennessee in the States. Hermione’s holographic technology had left with them a tidy fortune allowing them a simple, but leisurely life. May, their young daughter, would be their only child to attend Hogwarts. She would always be close to her parents, especially her father. When Hermione and Severus finally moved to Tennessee for good, May followed. She would eventually marry the grandson of the elder Marlowe’s (who bore in personality remarkable similarities to Severus) and bought a home close to her parents. Britain would always be their home, but Hermione had always promised herself that when it was all over they would live their lives surrounded by nature and books. The home she had found for them, purely by accident, had felt right – mainly because by fate or coincidence the property was called ‘Phoenix Forest’.

            It was almost twenty years later, retired, happy, and content that Hermione and Severus sat on their back porch looking at the beautiful rolling forests in front of them. Their children, and their children’s children, and even one great grandchild, had just visited. Their home was a wreck, but they ignored it, sipping tea and rocking in their chairs.

            “Are you happy,” Severus asked. He was holding her hand as they moved in sync.

            Hermione raised an eyebrow and pushed a lock of graying hair out of her face. “Forty years married to my soul mate, beautiful and wonderful children, and a home filled with books.”

            “You no longer feel displaced?”

            “Oh, goodness, Severus. I haven’t heard that in such a long time.”

            Severus squeezed her hand. “Humor me, my love.”

            Hermione breathed and looked over the trees as they blew in the wind. “I have not felt displaced since I landed in your lap forty years ago. It was such a surprise back then that… it just took someone’s mere presence to erase that horrible feeling in my heart. So, no, I do not feel displaced. I feel quite well placed, right where I’m supposed to be. Why are you concerned?”

            “Well,” Severus smirked. “You are Hermione Granger, the girl who always craves more. You saved the world twice, have read almost every book in existence, and conquered both the wizarding and muggle world – you tell me. You cannot blame a man for being worried that he is not enough.”

            “I cannot believe you are counting my time as a teenager as just one save, honestly. I would say that I saved it eight, nine times.”

            “Pride doesn’t suit you.”

            She snorted. “Well, you know what they say about couples. They do start to resemble each other.”

            Severus leaned forward slightly. “Now that you say that I wasn’t going to say anything, but your nose has this slight hook—”

            Hermione swatted him with her book that was lying on the table between them. “Shut up, husband, and get over here and kiss me.”

            Severus groaned but obeyed, his hands on the sides of her rocker as he leaned over her, kissing her tenderly. “Yes, wife.”

            “I love you, Severus.”

            “And I you, Hermione – for all time.”

                                                                                                            The End