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Chapter Text

Some time had passed since Harry had gone to face Voldemort, when a dark crowd began to return. Neville Longbottom appeared first. Soon after came Ginny Weasley with her father, followed by Ron and Hermione. Little by little, the gathering took shape and became clear: the Death Eaters, with Voldemort at the front. In their midst, Harry hung unconscious in Hagrid's arms. Voldemort's apparent triumph sliced through the air, a wave of anguish tightening around Hermione's chest.

Harry couldn't be dead. He was their only hope.

"Harry Potter… is dead!" Voldemort's voice echoed, sealing the worst.

Ginny tried to rush forward, screaming Harry's name, but Voldemort stopped her with a flick of his wand.

"Silence, foolish girl! Harry Potter is gone, and from this day forth, all your faith will be placed in me!"

No! No! No!

Hermione's mind screamed in despair.

Come on, Harry, get up. Come back!

Her palms grew damp, her stomach churned, and tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks. Her chest felt as if it were splintering into a thousand shards. She scanned the faces behind Voldemort: the Malfoys with their stony expressions, Bellatrix nearly bouncing with glee. Snape remained unreadable, his gaze fixed on Harry for a moment before shifting back to Voldemort.

That look pulled Hermione back to a memory—just before Dumbledore's death.

She had been on her way to the headmaster's office, hand raised to knock, when the door opened. Snape emerged, his dark eyes meeting hers. But unlike usual, his face looked strained—anguished, almost vulnerable. He didn't speak; he only swept past her, his cloak snapping in his wake.

That same day, Dumbledore had entrusted Hermione with a mission she would never forget.

"But Harry will win, won't he?" Hermione asked, urgency sharp in her voice. "That's what we've been preparing for all this time. That's what everyone expects—that good will triumph over evil."

"I cannot deny that we all long for such an ending," Dumbledore replied, calm but grave. "But we must be ready for any outcome. And, I fear, this burden falls to you, Hermione. You are a witch of remarkable intelligence, and you already have experience with time manipulation."

"Will Ron come with me?" she asked, hesitating. "I can't do this all alone."

"I'm afraid this task is for one person alone. Traveling through time is dangerous enough without adding the complications of two. Mr. Weasley has many fine qualities, but in this mission, his presence would hinder more than help. You will have only one chance, Miss Granger. Failure is not an option."

Hermione's memory snapped back to the present as Neville raised his voice.

"We've lost Harry tonight. But he is still with us, right here." He pressed a hand to his chest. "Fred, Tonks, Remus… none of them died in vain. Harry's heart beat for us—for all of us."

The crowd's grief deepened. Voldemort gestured for the Death Eaters to advance, and Harry remained motionless.

Hermione's fingers brushed against something hard in her pocket—a magical artifact. Her heart pounded wildly. She bolted down a corridor, found a deserted corner, and pulled it free: a Time-Turner, larger and darker than the one McGonagall had once lent her.

Her hands trembled as she held the chain. She stared at it, eyes brimming with doubt. To use it meant stepping into the unknown, perhaps never returning. But staying meant waiting for certain death.

With a lump in her throat, she closed her eyes and whispered the incantation Dumbledore had taught her.

"Ad praeterita me reduc. Nunc!"

Black and silver waves of light engulfed her, lifting her from the ground. Everything blurred and dissolved into nothingness. The last thing she saw was a Death Eater rounding the corridor.

When she opened her eyes again, sunlight filtered through tall windows. A sharp ache throbbed in her head. She lay in a bed in the Hogwarts infirmary, though something about it looked slightly… different. The uniforms of the nurses, for one—old-fashioned, the sort she had only seen in books.

And then Dumbledore appeared, approaching with steady steps.

"Ah, you're awake," he said, his voice warm yet steady. "Madam Pomfrey told me, and I couldn't help but come. Miss…?" He sat beside her bed, his eyes intent.

"Granger," Hermione answered, startled.

"Ah, Miss Granger." Dumbledore gave a faint smile. "You collapsed on the school grounds. From the way you arrived, I suspect you used ancient and powerful magic. If you hadn't been prepared, it might have cost you your life."

"Really?" Hermione asked uncertainly. "I… I don't remember how I got here."

"Miss Granger, if you know me from the future, then you know I'm no fool," Dumbledore said, his eyes kind but unwavering. "I know this magic well. What troubles me is what in your future drove you to such dark measures, to turn back time so far."

"So far?" Hermione's breath caught.

"We are in 1976."

"No! That can't be!" Hermione exclaimed. "Future-you told me the Time-Turner was set for just before the Second Wizarding War. Why so many years back?"

"Perhaps I miscalculated—or perhaps that was the plan all along," Dumbledore mused with a faint, enigmatic smile. "Sometimes time forces our hand in ways only the heart can truly understand. What year do you come from?"

"Nineteen ninety-eight."

"Well, that is quite a leap," Dumbledore said calmly. "And what exactly did I tell you?"

"I'm afraid to say too much," Hermione confessed. "To change too much…"

"Then we must trust your judgment," Dumbledore said. "If I sent you back so far, it was with purpose. The future must need intervention."

Hermione explained briefly: the war, Harry's death—but spared the details that might unravel too much. She would choose where and how to act.

"Well, Miss Granger, classes begin in fifteen days," Dumbledore said as he rose. "There are no openings in seventh year, but I can place you in sixth."

"That's fine," Hermione sighed. "But… my uniform, my supplies?"

"I shall see to it. And remember: to everyone else, you are an orphan, raised in a Muggle orphanage until you turned eleven. Nothing more. That is all they need to know."

Hermione marveled at Dumbledore's foresight, and for the first time since arriving, felt a flicker of security.

That night, Hermione sat alone on her bed in the infirmary. Candlelight threw shifting shadows across the stone walls, and the silence felt too heavy, almost suffocating.

Dumbledore's words lingered, each one steeped in responsibility. To live decades before her own time, carrying alone the weight of a victory already lost—it was crushing.

She drew a long breath, steadying herself against the storm inside. Her heart begged for release, for tears, but her mind whispered that there was no room for weakness. Not now.

On the bedside table lay the dark Time-Turner, faintly pulsing with magic. Hermione reached toward it, then stopped. No—she could not lose herself to the past she had left behind. She had to look forward.

A shiver ran through her. From this moment, no one here knew her. Not Harry, not Ron, not even those who had yet to become the figures she would one day fear or admire.

The future depended on her. But uncertainty pressed so heavily against her chest, it felt like a stone upon her heart.

She lay back, staring up at the ceiling. In the silence, she whispered to herself:

"I will change everything. I will find the strength to go on. I have to."

And as sleep finally began to claim her, one single question burned in her mind, insistent and inevitable:

Which house would the Sorting Hat choose for her?

Chapter Text

Days passed, and to avoid thinking about the people she had left behind, Hermione kept herself busy studying, spending hours in the library, reading everything—even the subjects she liked the least. Each book was an escape, each page a distraction. If she kept dwelling on the future she had left, she would sink into despair, and she knew she couldn't afford to fail. The weight of responsibility pressed on her chest, but she took a deep breath and carried on.

The first day of classes arrived—the day students were welcomed. Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach as she remembered that she would have to go through the Sorting Hat again. Would she still be placed in Gryffindor? She had always taken pride in her bravery, but now, after so many experiences and lessons, she felt different—more mature, more aware of who she was.

McGonagall guided her along with the other first-years, eleven-year-olds marveling at the castle. Hermione watched them with a mixture of nostalgia and strangeness. The Great Hall remained magnificent, the night sky reflecting in the enormous windows, house banners swaying gently. A small smile escaped her. Hogwarts always had that effect on everyone.

"Granger, Hermione!" called the professor, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She walked to the hat, heart pounding, remembering the first time she had sat there. She placed the hat on her head and, for a moment, felt the metallic chill of the interior, as if it were examining not only her abilities but also who she had chosen to become.

Before she could even weigh her strengths and weaknesses, the hat shouted: "GRYFFINDOR!"

A calm relief swept through Hermione. She knew that no matter what time would bring, her courage would always be her home.

The hall applauded, and a shy smile formed on Hermione's lips.

She made her way to the Gryffindor table and, right at the end, saw hands offering her a seat. She sat down, almost screaming when she looked ahead, thinking she saw Harry. But it was James, her father. She truly was in the Marauders' time. A chill ran down her spine. Everything felt so real, so different from what she had imagined.

"Welcome, first-year. Single?" said Sirius Black, a young man with long wavy hair and a charming smile.

"Sirius, control yourself, or you'll scare her," murmured Lupin shyly.

"Let Sirius flirt—someone has to enjoy life," said Potter, always joking.

"If Lily hears you… Hermione, right? Just kidding, but I'm available if you want," teased Sirius.

"Oh!" Hermione smiled, feeling a slight blush. "Well, let's say you're not my type."

"Rejected on the first day of school—that's a record for you, Fancy-Pants," said James. Another boy laughed and agreed; it could only be Peter Pettigrew. Hermione looked away, trying not to show disdain.

"And you, Hermione, where are you from?" asked Remus, wanting to change the topic.

"Uh… Beauxbatons. I'm an orphan, I lived in a Muggle orphanage, and when I turned eleven, Dumbledore visited me. He's been helping me ever since. I went to study there, but I didn't quite fit in; I always wanted to leave. So Dumbledore brought me to Hogwarts." She felt she might have said too much.

Everyone went silent, unsure how to react. Hermione was grateful when a girl drew attention away: Lily Evans.

"Hello, boys! You must be the new girl, right? I'm Lily Evans. Everyone's talking about you."

"About me? Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Granger," she replied, curious.

"They say you're friendly," said Remus, blushing, "and… pretty…"

The atmosphere shifted when Sirius lifted his head, followed by the rest of the group.

"Look who's coming… the Snotty," shouted Sirius.

"Oh! Snivellus! Snivellus!" yelled James and Sirius. "How dare you show up here?"

Hermione nearly froze. It was Snape. Harry had already told her about bullying episodes involving him and the Marauders. Hermione disliked baseless discrimination. She remembered meeting Ron and Harry, and how Ron had looked down on her. A tightness in her chest came with the memory of injustice.

Snape walked by with books, ignoring the provocations, muttering only:

"Idiots."

He was thin, tall, pale, hair falling across his face. His gaze and expression were different from the man she would later know, though there were similarities.

"Guys, stop. There's no need for this—let him go," intervened Hermione, trying to calm things down.

"I agree with her," said Lupin.

"Hermione, he's not the angel you're thinking," commented Lily. "Don't pity him; he knows how to defend himself and dish out insults."

Hermione remembered the story Harry had told about Snape calling Lily a Mudblood. She knew the weight of the word and that bullying was never the answer. Perhaps she could interfere, change something.

"Idiot? Well, now this bat will see," said Sirius, standing and pointing his wand at Snape's back, while James threw enchanted paper balls.

Hermione reacted immediately, raising her wand at Sirius before he could notice.

"Enough! That's cowardly. Aim your wand properly, one at a time, not in a group."

Snape looked back, surprised. The first-year defending him? Calling Black a coward? Had he died and not known it? He was slightly impressed by her courage. Could she be different from them? He thought it unlikely, since she had chosen that group as friends. A slight smile appeared on his face.

Hermione kept her wand raised.

"Lower your wand, and I will forgive you for being a first-year and not knowing what this Snotty did," Sirius ground out.

"You lower yours first," gestured Hermione.

"I'll lower mine because I'm a gentleman, and Gryffindors shouldn't fight among themselves."

"Sirius, lower it already," Potter put a hand on his arm. "We'll deal with Snivellus later."

Sirius gave in. Hermione followed suit, and everyone was shocked by her quickness and awareness.

"I'm looking forward to this, Potter," said Snape with disdain. "But come one at a time. Don't be a coward," he looked at Granger, "I don't need defending." He turned and continued walking.

"See?" sighed Lily. "He doesn't deserve it. Leave him alone."

"What he deserves is reserved," said Sirius. "And you, Hermione, lucky to be in Gryffindor on your first day. I'll forgive you this time, but don't overdo it."

"I did what I thought was right," Hermione replied. "Four against one is unfair. Please leave him be."

"I agree with her. This needs to stop," said Remus. "By the way, you were brilliant, Hermione."

"Well, I'll rest now. Classes start tomorrow, and I need to prepare," said Hermione, getting up to go to the dormitory. "See you tomorrow."

Once out of sight, she took a deep breath. Her actions already had an impact on the future; she didn't even know if she wanted to interfere, but her wand was already raised. My God, she had defended Snape—the same one who had complicated her and her friends' lives! And he had remained impassive. Was there a timeline in which Snape was less hateful? And could the Marauders be less childish?

There was no turning back now. The changes had begun. Could she make Snape and the Marauders have a good relationship? She would need to act carefully—Harry still had to be born.

Lost in thought, Hermione didn't notice Snape standing in the corridor, watching her with curiosity. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, hair tucked behind his ears. His black eyes followed her, steady but without provocation. Just attention. Gryffindor felt something strange—a mix of curiosity and caution—and held the gaze until she entered the dormitory. There was something in that look that seemed to pierce the surface, making her want to understand it.

She leaned against the wall, trying to calm her mind. Even without exchanging a word, Snape already occupied her thoughts.

Chapter Text

As soon as Hermione woke up and noticed the empty dormitory, panic took hold of her. She had overslept. That had never happened before. She was always punctual and proud of it, but with all the worries about her mission, the memories of the past, and the latest events, falling asleep had been impossible.

She got dressed in a rush and hurried toward the classroom—or so she thought. Soon, she realized she was heading the wrong way. The castle of that time looked different: paintings, furniture, even the width of the corridors confused her sense of direction. After a few minutes and some help from other students, she finally found the right path. She felt embarrassed. She, the exemplary student, would have to walk in late. And to make things worse, she remembered it was Defense Against the Dark Arts—with Slytherin.

Her heart skipped. Snape…

The corridors were silent, only her footsteps echoed against the cold floor. The chill of the dungeons made her shrink into herself; she had forgotten to bring her cloak. Suddenly, her thoughts drifted back to Snape and the look he had given her the night before. He was an enigma. And what bothered Hermione the most was not understanding something. Snape should have come with an instruction manual, she thought.

She approached the door, knocked twice, and opened it timidly.

“Excuse me, Professor. I’m sorry I’m late—may I come in?” she asked, hoping for a positive answer so her humiliation would be lessened.

“Yes, of course, Miss Granger. Come in and take your seat, please. I was just about to begin.”

Hermione exhaled deeply and scanned the room. Only two empty seats remained: one beside Peter Pettigrew, who sat alone, and another in the back, to the right. Anything was better than sitting next to him. She quickly walked to the back and sat down. As she set her books on the table, she caught a glimpse of what her seatmate was reading. It was a heavy tome of Dark Magic.

A shiver ran down her spine when she realized it was Snape. Oh, no. Fate truly seemed to conspire to put them together.

He raised an eyebrow and closed the book with a thud.

“You really are nosy, Granger,” he muttered. “Did you learn that from your little friends?”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit, Snape. I’m not interested in your life,” she replied in the same tone.

It was strange to confront him like that. With the adult Snape, it would have been harder—but with this younger version, she felt they were equals.

“Doesn’t seem like it. You made a scene defending me, then you stare at me in the corridors, and now you sit next to me instead of your little friends. Is this one of their tricks? Tell them I won’t fall for it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. His voice was surprisingly deep for his age, and he radiated warmth, which helped against the chill she felt. Nothing more, she told herself. Biologically, male bodies generate more heat. That’s all.

“I’m not a woman of tricks. And you were the one staring at me. Now be quiet—I need to focus.” She raised her hand and answered the professor’s question perfectly.

“Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor,” said the teacher.

Hermione usually didn’t act like that with people, but Snape was different. He always treated her with disdain, accusing her of being complicit in the Marauders’ childishness.

She didn’t know, but every exchanged word made Snape more curious about her. That was why he had followed her the night before, trying to read her mind. For a few seconds, he had managed—but all he found was a chaotic storm of thoughts. Still, the memory of her lingered in his mind until sleep took him. And now there she was again—voluntarily sitting next to him, bold enough to peek into his book, challenge him, and tell him to shut up.

Hermione stayed focused through the lesson, answering every question precisely. Lily also excelled, but Granger seemed slightly ahead. Snape, though he knew the answers, preferred to remain silent and immerse himself in his studies. Yet his mind wouldn’t rest—because of the girl beside him.

Suddenly, he muttered under his breath:

“Why did you do that? I’m nothing to you.”

“I’d have done that for anyone,” she answered simply, shrugging. “You could be someone to me. I wouldn’t mind having your friendship.”

Snape blinked, surprised. Someone wanting to be his friend—and a girl, no less? Hard to believe.

“No. I don’t need your friendship. Your friends wouldn’t like that.”

“You care about their opinion?” Hermione arched an eyebrow.

“Of course not! They’re idiots…”

“Then I don’t care either. I can talk to and be friends with whoever I want.”

“Why me?” he murmured, confused.

Hermione smiled faintly.

“You’re more interesting than you think.”

She stood, gathering her things as class ended. Once she left the room, the weight of her words hit her. Merlin, that had sounded like flirting. Her face burned. No—she couldn’t be flirting with Severus Snape. She didn’t even know how to flirt. It had just been honesty… an attempt to build a bridge. Or maybe not?

Snape stayed seated, motionless, staring at the empty space she’d left behind. Her words echoed—persistent, uncomfortable, and strangely pleasant. More interesting than you think.

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Outside the classroom, the Marauders quickly caught up to her, eyes gleaming with curiosity. They had seen, from a distance, the exchange between the newcomer and Snape.

“We couldn’t believe it when you passed right by Peter and chose to sit with Snivellus,” James said, laughing.

“I just prefer sitting next to someone who can actually cast a spell instead of someone who doesn’t even know how to use a quill,” Hermione shot back—perhaps more sharply than she should have. She realized, too late, that she wasn’t supposed to know Peter well enough to sound so hostile.

The line, however, drew loud laughter from the boys—even Peter, who laughed more to fit in than out of genuine amusement.

“Hey, don’t insult our friend like that,” Sirius said, smirking. “He has his qualities. And let’s be honest—he’s still better company than that greasy git.”

“But what were you two talking about?” Lily asked, frowning. “Did he mention me?”

Hermione resisted the urge to sigh. It was strange seeing Lily so interested, even if not out of jealousy.

“About class,” she lied, avoiding details.

“Yeah, right,” James said skeptically. “He was probably just being his usual unpleasant self.”

Before Hermione could respond, Lupin stepped in to save her.

“Hermione, you should come watch us play Quidditch later. Well—it’s just practice, but I’d like you to come.”

“I have to admit, I’m not much of a Quidditch fan,” she said gently. “But if I have time after studying, I’ll stop by.”

“See you later then, girls,” James said, speeding up. “Come on, lads.”

The boys followed him, leaving Hermione and Lily behind. They walked in silence for a while. Hermione longed for a quiet moment with her thoughts, but she could feel Lily wanted to get something off her chest.

“You and Severus… is there something going on?” Lily asked suddenly. “I mean, do you like him or something?”

Hermione’s face flushed.

“What? No! Of course not!” she replied far too quickly, instantly regretting it. That sounded suspicious. “He’s not interested, I think…”

“So… you are?” Lily pressed, raising her eyebrows.

“No,” Hermione sighed. “I’m not, and neither is he. But why the curiosity?”

Lily sighed, her eyes distant for a moment.

“Even though we’re not talking, I still worry about him. We have a… complicated history. Some things are non-negotiable for me. And he…” Her voice faltered. “He’s getting deeper into Dark Magic. It’s only a matter of time before he joins You-Know-Who. He’s already surrounded by people trying to recruit him.”

A chill ran down Hermione’s spine. She already knew this—but hearing Lily say it out loud made it feel heavier, more real.

“I’m sorry about your friendship,” Hermione murmured. “But things can still change.”

“Not if Severus has a say in it. He’s not the kind who… changes,” Lily replied, closing the subject as they entered their next class.

────────────────────────────

After lessons, Hermione decided to spend some time in the library to study—to distract herself. But her thoughts wouldn’t let her. Every paragraph, every word dragged her back to the future: her parents, her friends, who by now must all be… dead. And not just them. Severus Snape, too.

She had never felt so disoriented. She’d always taken pride in her discipline, but now she couldn’t read two pages without her mind flooding with memories, fears… and him. She felt foolish. Not even in her most confused teenage days, when she’d fancied Ron, had it been like this. But this was different. She didn’t like Snape. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

She slammed the book shut, frustrated, and decided to go to the pitch to watch the boys play Quidditch. She didn’t like it, but any distraction would do. Crossing the field, her eyes caught a solitary figure under a tree—Severus, leaning against the trunk, notebooks and books scattered around. The sight made her hesitate. She could just keep walking, but her feet chose another path. Before she knew it, she was heading toward him.

She approached quietly, not wanting to startle him. She stepped around the trunk to face him—and froze when a wand was suddenly aimed at her.

“Oh… it’s you, Granger,” he said without much enthusiasm, though there was a hint of relief in his voice. He lowered his wand and sat back down.

“You scared me!” she exclaimed, breathless. “Of course it’s me—who else would it be?”

“Your idiot friends,” he shot back coldly. “Don’t sneak up on people like that. That’s what happens. I’m not sorry for scaring you. What do you want?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and, without asking, sat on the grass across from him.

“Your company,” she replied simply.

Snape looked up at her. No one had ever said that to him. Ever.

“Then you’re even more foolish than I thought,” he lied. He didn’t think she was foolish at all—quite the opposite. “Go bother your Gryffindor friends and leave me alone.” He returned to his books.

Hermione’s face grew hot with irritation. Why was he always so unbearable? She was starting to realize that this Severus wasn’t so different from the bitter man she’d known in the future.

“How can you be so detestable?” she shot back. “I’d love to be with my friends, but they’re playing Quidditch—and I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” he muttered. “That’s why I’m here. But it’s getting harder to be alone since a nosy witch keeps showing up.” He sighed.

Hermione frowned and glanced at what he was writing. She recognized the book—it was the same one Harry had found in their sixth year, the annotated copy belonging to the Half-Blood Prince. A chill ran through her.

It’s true… he is the Half-Blood Prince.

She was so lost in thought that she only noticed the heavy silence when she found his eyes fixed on hers.

“You must have some sort of problem, Granger,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Are you studying Potions?” she asked, suddenly enthusiastic, leaning in slightly to see better. An idea was forming in her mind. Maybe this was her chance to get closer to him—and maybe change something in the future.

“Yes… and no. I’m already brilliant at Potions. I’m just recording a few discoveries,” he answered too quickly. He realized he’d said too much. And when he looked back, Hermione was close. Too close. Her curls brushed his cheek; her fruity scent filled the air. Snape’s heart faltered, and he pulled away slightly. “Why?”

“I thought you could give me some lessons. I’m not that good with complex brews like Wolfsbane or Amortentia…” she said, trying to sound casual, though she’d just come up with the idea seconds ago. “I also want to improve because I’m thinking of earning some money tutoring and doing some academic work.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, surprised. A small smirk escaped before he could stop it.

“Wow… and here I thought you were all virtue and know-it-all righteousness,” he said, the last word heavy in the air. “Now you come asking me for help?”

“I am,” she replied quickly. “But I’m also humble enough to recognize my flaws. You’re the best Potions Master I’ve ever known.” She realized too late she’d said ever known.

“I’m not a master yet—but I intend to be,” he replied, suspicious. “Still, yes, I am the best you know.” He packed his things, trying to compose himself. “No need to flatter me, Granger.”

“So that’s a yes?” she asked, excited.

“That’s a maybe. I’ll think about it,” he muttered. Deep down, he knew he’d think about it more than he should.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You’re not one to shy away from saying no,” she said, standing up.

It was always like this. She unsettled him. She looked at him as if she could see through the walls he’d built around himself. And the worst part was—Snape was starting to like it. Too much. Dangerous, because the last time he’d allowed such feelings, it had ended in tragedy. Lily had left him for a fool. He couldn’t bear to repeat that story.

“You know nothing about me,” he said quietly, almost defensive.

I know more than you think, Hermione answered only in her mind.

“But I’d like to,” slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her face burned again. Why did her words always sound so ambiguous around him? “Well, I’d better go. See you later.” She hurried off before the air between them got any heavier.

Snape stayed under the shade of the tree, the book forgotten beside him. Her fruity scent still lingered in the air. And against his will, one thought persisted: maybe, just maybe, Granger was more dangerous than any Marauder.

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Later at dinner, Hermione couldn’t stop her eyes from scanning the Slytherin table for someone in particular. And, unsurprisingly, that someone had already been watching her for some time. When their gazes met, she discreetly raised her pumpkin juice glass, as if proposing a silent toast. Snape merely curved his lips into a half-smile and shook his head.

He probably thinks I’ve gone mad, she thought, feeling her cheeks warm.

Hermione’s friends noticed the silent exchange and, naturally, turned to see who she was looking at.

“Don’t tell me Snivellus has a crush on you?” Sirius teased, his tone dripping with mockery and curiosity.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the nickname.

“You mean Snape?” she said, serving herself food with calm composure. “We’re just friends… or maybe less than that.”

Lily, who had been silent until then, seemed unsettled by the turn of conversation.

“Why would he fancy her? He barely knows her,” she said sharply, her voice colder than she intended.

James seized the moment with smug satisfaction.

“Let’s just say Snape has trouble telling friendship from something else. Lily knows that better than anyone. He’s never understood his place.”

Hermione took a deep breath, trying hard to stay patient. It was impressive how they never missed an opportunity to attack.

“Can we change the subject?” Sirius said, surprisingly serious—though he quickly added, mockingly, “Talking about Snivellus ruins my appetite.”

“Yes, let’s stop talking about him,” Hermione replied before glancing one last time toward the Slytherin table. Snape was gone.

Chapter Text

It was Saturday, and as Snape got dressed in his dormitory, he planned out his day.
He had no classes, had finished all his assignments the night before, and therefore had hours of freedom ahead. The only commitment would come later: a meeting in the Slytherin Tower about the rise of the Dark Lord. He had already confirmed his presence. It wasn’t an official recruitment, but rather a prelude — a gathering to prepare the Death Eaters’ children, measure interest, and identify potential contributors to the cause.

Severus wasn’t sure he wanted any part of it. Many of the ideals didn’t appeal to him; he had never truly believed in blood superiority. But sometimes, the hatred and rage were so strong that he needed an outlet. Maybe, alongside the Darkness, he could control those feelings… or use them to his advantage. Besides, there was ambition: he wanted power. Power enough to never again be at anyone’s mercy. Of course, the Marauders’ bullying played a role, but he refused to admit how much it affected him.

And Lily… Lily wouldn’t approve.
But she was already with Potter and had never once considered leaving him.
So why should he live according to what she thought?

He decided to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. Instinctively, his eyes sought the Gryffindor table — and found exactly who he was looking for, though he would never admit it.

Granger.
She was watching him too. She smiled and waved subtly, a spark of genuine warmth in her expression.

She was a mystery — one that stirred feelings and thoughts he didn’t know how to handle. He had already dismissed the idea that she was part of some Marauders’ prank; if it were, it wouldn’t have lasted this long. So why did she keep approaching him?
And worse, why did he feel himself giving in?

He took a deep breath and raised an eyebrow in reply — a small gesture, but it said plenty.
Decision made: he needed to know more about her. And since he had nothing better to do, that morning he would give her the Potions lessons she’d asked for.

When he looked back at the Gryffindor table, she was gone. Snape deduced that she certainly wouldn’t be on the Quidditch pitch. If she was anything like him, she’d be in the library.
He grabbed a few books and went there. Satisfied, he found her exactly where he’d expected: surrounded by parchment and open volumes, so absorbed that she didn’t even notice his approach.

Severus dropped a Potions book onto the table. The sharp sound made Hermione jump. She looked up and, upon seeing him, sighed with a small amused smile.

“Oh! Who’s the nosy one now?” she teased in a whisper, remembering they were in the library — though it was empty. “Are you following me, Snape?”

“Not even in your most delusional dreams,” he replied coolly. “Your Potions lessons start now.” He gestured toward the book.

“Not now, I need to finish these essays,” she said, turning back to her writing.

Snape narrowed his eyes, already turning to leave.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I won’t give you another chance.”

“All right, all right.” Hermione sighed, hurriedly packing up her things. His first genuine approach couldn’t be wasted. “I’m coming.”

He walked fast ahead of her; she almost had to run to keep up.

“Where are we going?” she asked, realizing the path led to the dungeons.

“We’ll use Slughorn’s room. He wouldn’t dare refuse me.”
— He should be thanking me for my performance, he thought.

“Not a bad idea,” Hermione smirked. “But I have a better one. Come on.”
And, to his surprise, she grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

They stopped in front of a blank wall.
“I think you hit your head, Granger. There’s nothing here.”

“Shhh.” Hermione focused, murmuring words Snape didn’t recognize. A door appeared before them.

His eyes gleamed with quiet surprise.
“The Room of Requirement… How do you know about this place?”

“I read about it somewhere,” she lied, stepping inside first. “What do you think?”

It was a small, cozy room. A long worktable stretched across it, covered with ingredients, cauldrons, and glass vials.

“It’ll do,” Snape said curtly, though he looked satisfied. He removed his cloak and tossed it on the counter, remaining in just his white shirt and loosened green tie. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

Hermione couldn’t help but glance at his forearm, half-expecting to see the Dark Mark.
Nothing. She exhaled in relief.

Then she noticed his hands — long, pale, veins subtly visible beneath the skin.
Strangely captivating.

“What are you waiting for, Granger? Show me what you know,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I wanted to start with advanced potions,” she said, remembering how, in the future, even Harry had surpassed her thanks to the ‘Half-Blood Prince’s’ notes. “How about the Wolfsbane Potion?”

Snape arched a brow.
“Curious. Trying to help your… boyfriend?”

If it was for Lupin, he wouldn’t hesitate to poison it.

“Who?” Hermione asked absently, tying up her hair.

“Lupin, obviously. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed his pitiful puppy eyes whenever he looks at you?” he muttered, gesturing toward the book. “Get the ingredients.”

“We’re just friends,” she replied firmly. She hadn’t realized he already knew about Lupin’s condition — nor had she even thought of using the potion for that purpose.

“He seems to want to be more than that,” Snape murmured.

Hermione seized the chance.
“And you and Lily?” she asked, eyes lifting, a hint of playfulness in her tone. “You two seemed more than friends as well.”

Severus’s expression hardened.
“We have a… complicated relationship.”

“That’s what she said,” Hermione replied, sorting through aconite roots.

He stopped.
“She said that? What exactly have you two been talking about?”

“She only asked about us… if there was something between us.” Hermione blushed, keeping her eyes on the cauldron.

“And you told her there isn’t.”

“I did. Because it’s the truth,” she answered — though the next question slipped out on its own. “Isn’t it?”

He didn’t react. Just muttered something about Lily and Potter before cutting the subject short.
“Focus, Granger. What’s the first step?”

She began to follow the book’s instructions. Snape interrupted.
“Wrong.” He pointed at his own scribbled notes in the margin. “Low heat. Boiling water kills the asphodel’s essence.”

Hermione frowned, confused.
“But the book—”

“If you trust the book blindly, you’ll be as limited as Slughorn,” he murmured, leaning closer to observe.

Her breath caught. He was so near she could feel his warmth, his low voice brushing her ear.

The potion was going well — until Hermione, following the text, dropped whole aconite roots into the cauldron. A small explosion sent smoke and soot flying, covering her face in black dust.

“Damn it!” she coughed, rubbing at her face. “How…? I did everything right!”

Snape sighed, torn between amusement and irritation.
“That happened because the book says to use whole pieces. Crushed slightly, the roots release the correct extract without causing a toxic reaction. And the aconite must be added all at once — not little by little.” He crossed his arms. “If you’d read my notes, you’d know that.”

Hermione lowered her head.
“I’m sorry if I wasted your time. I… always trusted books too much. I hope you don’t regret helping me.”

His answer died on his lips.
Instead, he grabbed a cloth from the counter and approached.

“Look at me, Granger.”

He held her face gently with one hand, wiping the soot from her forehead and cheeks with the other. Hermione opened her eyes, startled by how close he was, heat blooming across her skin. Part of her face was flushed — and Snape seemed to be studying every detail.

He noticed the faint freckles scattered across her nose and cheekbones — a detail so subtle it only made her face more intriguing. There was an unexpected beauty there, something that made him hesitate.

Hermione stood still, breathing faster, absorbing every second of that quiet, intense, unexpectedly intimate moment.
She noticed his features up close for the first time: pale skin, dark brows, onyx eyes observing her with disconcerting focus — and a shadow of stubble on his jaw. For an instant, she forgot to breathe.

Snape remained oddly focused on his task, sliding the cloth from one cheek to the other, brushing lightly over her nose… until he suddenly realized what he was doing.
His heart skipped. Heat crept up his neck.
He stepped back quickly, regaining composure — or at least trying to.

“There. You don’t look like a clown anymore,” he said dryly, masking his unease. “We’ll try again later.”

Hermione blinked, still dazed, trying to process what had just happened.

“What did you say? Oh… right. Sure.”

“What do you plan to do with the finished potions?” he asked, keeping his gaze fixed on her — studying her every move as if he could read her mind.

“I don’t know… if you don’t mind, I might sell them,” she said casually, looking away — though her heart sped up under his intense gaze. She really did need the money.

“Why? Don’t your parents provide what you need?” He leaned against the counter, and she felt a faint warmth spread through her arm from his closeness.

“I don’t have parents. I’m an orphan,” she said, deciding to elaborate — Snape wouldn’t accept a shallow answer. “They died in an accident when I was little. My relatives didn’t want me because of… my magical signs.” She forced a faint, sorrowful tone. “Then Dumbledore found me at eleven and’s taken care of me ever since.”

Snape stayed silent for a few moments, taking it in. Finally, he said quietly:

“If it’s any comfort, sometimes it’s better to have dead parents than living ones who neglect you.”
His tone wasn’t bitter — just tired, a glimpse of a difficult childhood surfacing.

“It’s not much comfort, but thanks for trying,” Hermione smiled, easing the heavy air. “So… can I still count on your help?”

“If I’m in the mood,” he replied, putting on his cloak and grabbing his books — a faint glint of irony in his eyes.

“Let’s hope that’s not the requirement, or we’ll never speak again.” She smiled and brushed his arm lightly. The contact was brief — yet enough to send a chill down both spines. “Thank you, really.”

Snape looked away, a strange tightness in his chest. He half-smiled.
“Don’t see it as an act of kindness, Granger. I’ll want half your profits from selling the potions.”
He turned toward the door, hand on the handle. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering saying more — but didn’t.
He opened the door and left.

───────────────────────────────

He went straight to the Slytherin Tower.
The common room meeting had already begun.
Time had flown while he’d been with Hermione, and only now did he remember the recruitment.

“Not joining us, Severus? We’ve already started, but we can fill you in,” asked a Slytherin named Lucian Blackwood.

“Not today. Maybe another time,” Snape replied without looking, climbing the stairs to his dorm.

He truly wasn’t in the right mindset for it. His thoughts were all over the place — and he needed time to sort them out.

───────────────────────────────

As soon as Severus left, Hermione allowed herself to sigh.
What a day.
She still needed to think about what she was feeling, but she knew those moments wouldn’t leave her mind anytime soon.

As she gathered the materials on the table, she noticed that Snape’s Potions book — the one with his personal notes — was still there.
A small smile crossed her lips.
He had definitely left it on purpose.

Chapter Text

POV Hermione

On Monday, I woke up feeling slightly better than the previous days, but the improvement was brief; soon the melancholy feelings returned as I began to organize my materials and saw in my planner that it was my birthday. I had simply forgotten, and for a second, I wished it weren’t. There was no point in celebrating; at this time, I wasn’t even born.

I remembered how, as a child, this date was celebrated joyfully by my parents. I was a much-awaited child. Later, at Hogwarts, I always shared birthdays with my best friends. Now, all those occasions were just memories: memories of the future that strangely felt like pieces of a distant past.

I knew this mission would require sacrifices, but I hadn’t realized they would be daily sacrifices; small detachments from memories and affections that shaped who I am. Sometimes I feel I am no longer myself; I am relearning to live, reinterpreting memories, and directing feelings toward new people around me. I hope to succeed and gradually become less unhappy. I try to accept my destiny here: I know there’s a real possibility of never returning to my time, and with every minute I remain, every change I make, every bond I create, I seal a new future. I can’t move people like pieces on a chessboard and then leave; that would be to play with the timeline and perhaps render all my efforts useless.

I spend the days forcing my focus on positive things, on interactions that relieve the torment. Sometimes, I find it impossible to live with myself. I can only distract myself when I am with my new friends… or with Snape. And it is precisely when I think of Snape that I become unsettled. He appears in many of my thoughts, even in some dreams. Last night I dreamed that the scene in the lab turned into a kiss: it was so vivid that I woke up feeling the soft scratch of his stubble on my face. That scares me. I don’t want a romance here.

No, I’m not in love with anyone else. I thought I was with Ron; after the kiss we shared, when we destroyed the Hufflepuff cup, nothing happened, I only felt strangeness. Perhaps I see him as a brother; and now, that seems better. Honestly, I don’t know what to do: I feel that Snape and I are growing closer, and I have no idea how far I want or should take this relationship. I only know I am drawn to his company. I am constantly curious about him; his reactions, what he thinks, what he does, how his childhood was… everything. When I think of the Snape of my future, I feel restless: I want to understand how that boy became the composed, impassive, and cold man I knew. He is a puzzle I want to solve.

Hermione made her way to the Great Hall determined to chase away the bad thoughts and make an effort to have a good day.

She sat roughly in her usual spot and helped herself to coffee. She found it strange that her friends were not there yet. Across the hall, Snape already occupied his usual place, and she could feel, almost like an electric current, his gaze upon her. Before she could return it, the Marauders arrived amidst laughter and spread out around her, animated.

However, everyone seemed to be staring at something behind her. Hermione barely had time to turn when she felt someone’s presence at her back: a cake was placed on the table, and shortly after, Lily sat beside her.

Damn. They had discovered her birthday. Probably Dumbledore had adjusted the date when creating her student file.

“Did you think we wouldn’t discover your secret, Hermione?” said Lily, loudly shouting “Happy Birthday” accompanied by clapping and cheering. The Marauders joined in chorus, and soon several nearby voices echoed the song through the hall.

“Come on, make a wish,” encouraged James with a mischievous smile.

Hermione took a deep breath. That actually made her feel a bit better. She blew out the candle and made a silent wish: that her mission would succeed.

“Now we have another adult in the group,” joked Sirius, winking at her.

The truth was she was already eighteen, not seventeen. She was of age in both worlds. Counting the time-turner jumps, she might even be older… but keeping seventeen saved her from unwanted questions.

“Happy birthday, Hermione. All the best in your life!” wished Lupin, with a sincere smile.

“Thank you, truly,” she replied, cutting the cake and serving her friends. “You really surprised me. I’m not one to celebrate birthdays much.”

“Well, now you’re part of the group, and we don’t leave anything uncelebrated,” commented Potter proudly.

The morning passed cheerfully, full of jokes and fun. Hermione began to feel that sense of belonging again. It was fun to be in their company: intelligent, although sometimes using it for cruel teasing, they were always laughing and creating stories.

But even surrounded by noise and laughter, her thoughts didn’t stay there for long. Soon, a particular Slytherin dominated her mind, causing a silent anxiety. She hadn’t seen him all morning.

POV Snape

I opened my eyes as the first rays of sunlight crossed the dormitory window, and as always, I regretted it. Every morning here seemed like a bitter repetition of the previous one: the same walls, the same steps, the promise of another day trapped in this school. I couldn’t wait to graduate and leave, but the thing is, anywhere would seem better than my own home.

I remembered the July holidays, when Johnny Goldenblatt, a Death Eater’s son, invited me to spend a few days. They needed help with some forbidden potions; it was a chance to show what I know. Doing something forbidden tastes different, especially when you can show talent in front of men who are nothing more than idiots incapable of handling a cauldron.

Yet, I don’t know what I want. Sometimes I think about becoming a scholar, publishing books, inventing spells… but for what? It seems small. I feel I can be more. The Dark Side could give me that. The fact that I have no answer irritates me. I see the future coming, and I don’t know which path to take; I feel at its mercy. And then there’s her. Granger. Occupying a space in my mind that should be reserved for more useful things.

I don’t know how to stop thinking about her. Near her, I become unstable, curious; I do things without planning, and I am not like that. I usually measure every step, train my self-control; and yet, a touch, a smile from her, and I crumble. It’s pathetic. I used to be better. I have everything mapped in my head: who to talk to, what to say, how to ignore her. And when I reach the Great Hall, I search for her eyes as if they were a reflection. Yes, I also noticed the color; caramel. After our last interaction, it was impossible not to memorize every detail. Hell.

It’s ridiculous. This will end the same way it did with Lily: either she ends up with some empty-headed Gryffindor, or I say something terrible, and we drift apart—or both. There was a time I thought I could find someone and be happy. Now I know it’s a lie. There is no love for me. If she truly got to know me, she would hate me. I’m on a path that could harm her existence; she would have every right to reject me. The worst part is that somehow, she seems to want to stay close. Lily probably already told her I called her “blood traitor,” and yet, the girl insists on forcing a friendship. I don’t understand, and it destabilizes me.

I didn’t have dinner last night. The plate remained untouched on the Common Room table; the nauseating smell of cold meat repelled me. Hunger still clings to me, a dry knot in my stomach. But I need coffee. Even swearing internally not to seek her out, I went to the Great Hall. I saw her enter: pristine uniform, loose curly hair, only the bangs pinned aside. I adjusted my sleeves, hoping she’d look at me, and then the Marauders arrived, spreading noise.

Then Lily appeared with a cake.

For a moment, my chest tightened. Whose birthday?

Suddenly, everyone sang “Happy Birthday,” and I realized it was for Granger. My stomach turned. Why hadn’t she told me?

“You’re not her friend,” the familiar bitter voice in my mind answered, cutting like a blade.

Her joy wasn’t for me. But I wanted it to be. I wanted to be the only one who knew, wanted that smile to be directed only at me. My hand clenched on the table, and I realized too late that I was holding my breath. I exhaled slowly, stood up, and left.

I needed to get away before I overthought things.

POV Hermione

The day was going as I had planned: without melancholy. That was already progress, but still not enough. Now I had Potions class with Slytherin, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I entered the classroom with the other students. The environment was familiar: tables with ingredients, steaming cauldrons, the warm atmosphere, and a mix of scents in the air. I approached a table with some prepared potions and ingredients, and noticed other students gathering there too, which made me realize the lesson would start soon. Some of the bottles were recognizable: Amortentia, Felix Felicis…

I saw Snape enter as well, leaning against a desk at the back of the room, observing the activity but showing no immediate interest. Shortly after, Slughorn arrived, as lively as ever, with his overly friendly demeanor.

“Welcome, everyone!” he said, approaching the table. “Today you won’t just prepare a potion—you’ll compete. The pair with the best result will receive a bottle of this potion,” he indicated a small bottle filled with a clear liquid. “Can anyone tell me what it is?”

I raised my hand immediately.

“Felix Felicis, sir. It’s an extremely rare and complex potion. Anyone who drinks it has incredible luck for a limited time; everything seems to go their way. But caution is needed: in excess, it can cause recklessness and dangerous effects.”

“Perfect, Miss Granger. That will be the prize. Today you’ll prepare an advanced potion, but I don’t expect any major problems. The potion is Amortentia.” Some students muttered, and the Marauders let out mischievous laughter. “The color and shine are signs, but the true test is in the aroma. Each of you will smell something deeply personal… Now, pair up.”

I looked around, already knowing who I would choose. I went to the back of the room and found Snape. He was standing, observing, but expressionless.

“You’ll be my partner,” I announced, approaching. He looked at me with his usual scowl.

“To sabotage me and make me lose?” he huffed, crossing his arms.
“Come on, you don’t even care about the competition.”

“I only enter something if it’s to win, Granger.”
“Perfect!” I replied, knowing he would accept.

Slughorn interrupted:
“Open the Advanced Potion-Making book and begin. Granger and Snape together? Better be careful.”

A shiver ran down my spine. We were the best—that was certain.

“I brought your book…” I started, but he abruptly interrupted me.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” he asked suddenly.

I hadn’t realized he cared about festive dates.

“When would I have had the chance to mention it in any of our conversations?” I retorted. “Besides, what would you do with that information? You don’t seem like the type to organize surprises.”

Something changed in his expression; he looked hurt.

“You’re right, Granger. I’m not that type. But since you know me so well, why not spare yourself and tell me?” he said, flipping through the book searching for the recipe. “It would be a favor you’d do me.”

I felt guilty. Perhaps I didn’t know him as well as I thought.

“I’m sorry, I…” I tried.
“Forget it. Separate the ingredients and use my notes as a guide,” he cut me off, pointing. “I’ll follow you every step. If you do anything differently, I leave and let you be alone. Since you know me so well, you know I’m capable of that.”

He truly was.

“Yes, understood.” I began separating the ingredients, following his instructions.

During the preparation, I noticed how he decided on some steps on the spot, which annoyed me slightly, but it was fascinating to watch him work. We were in the final stages, and the fire needed to be high. Distracted, Snape didn’t notice that his sleeve was touching the flame.

“Careful,” I said, pulling his sleeve and touching his arm. A shiver ran through my body. Lily and Potter, backs turned, watched us with curiosity.

“All done!” I stepped back.
“Ah… thank you,” he said, and I was surprised. For the first time, he showed gratitude.

“Why not write a book with your observations?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I’ve thought about it, but I gave up,” he replied.
“That would be interesting. I’d love to read it. You’re brilliant.”

“You too, Hermione…” he said quietly, and I could hear. “I mean, Granger,” he corrected.
“You can call me Hermione, Severus,” I smiled. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Before he could answer, Professor Slughorn approached, visibly excited.

“Bravo! The color is perfect, I couldn’t expect less from my best students. Now we need to evaluate the aroma…”

I shivered at the question and froze for a moment; from what I could tell, Snape also froze briefly. All eyes were on us, so I decided to take the lead. Approaching the cauldron, I took a deep sniff of the scent rising from it.

“I smell… freshly cut grass, new parchment, and…” my cheeks warmed, “an herbal fragrance I can’t fully identify.”

Snape remained silent, and Slughorn, noticing, continued:
“Perfect! I truly expected nothing less from you. The potion was executed with precision; no one else managed to reproduce it so well. Well deserved.” He handed me the bottle of Felix Felicis. “You’re dismissed.”

Before I could say anything, Snape gathered his materials and stepped away. I thought all the attention of the day had been enough, but I decided to follow him. He deserved that prize.

“Severus!” I called in the corridor. He slowed his pace.
“Here,” I held out the bottle. “It’s yours.”
“Don’t be foolish. I can produce it whenever I want,” he said, but not harshly. “It’s your merit, Granger.”
“Hermione!” I reminded him. “Please, accept it. I only managed with your help.” I held out the bottle again.

He looked at me, and I returned the gaze.
“Then see it as a birthday gift from me.” His hand wrapped around mine for a moment that felt far too long. “Happy birthday, Hermione.” He released me and stepped back, but something in the firmness of that touch said more than any words.

I found myself smiling in the middle of the corridor, holding the potion tightly against my chest. For the first time, I felt that I truly didn’t know everything about him. I felt a deep gratitude for what had happened that day; that simple “happy birthday” was all I needed to feel complete, at least for now.

Chapter Text

A few days passed, almost peacefully. Hermione allowed herself, for the first time in a long while, to feel small doses of happiness in the face of her progress.

Her friendship with the Marauders flowed better than she had imagined. They had stopped harassing their peers, at least when she was around. They had meals together, and she managed to balance her time well between them, Lily, and Snape. Often, she and Lily helped them with their studies. She had also given them a few ideas to improve the Marauder’s Map, and that secret detail made her smile: in a way, she was helping Harry and Ron in the future. With Lily, the relationship was growing increasingly intimate. Hermione realized the girl needed someone to confide in, and she was happy to fill that space.

With Snape, however, the progress rattled her in a different way. Since the day he let her keep the Felix Felicis potion, he seemed closer, less defensive. This made her happy... and, at the same time, uneasy. Because it wasn't just the mission that drove her; it was also that growing desire to be near him, to wait anxiously for any encounter, any shared look.

In the following days, they had more classes together, returned to the laboratory, and their conversations flowed naturally. Between them, there were lingering glances, almost casual touches, phrases that might carry hidden meanings. To an outside observer, it would seem like something was happening. And Hermione wondered, deep down, if that wasn’t exactly what she desired. Still, she didn't know if it was right. She didn't know if she had the right to feel that way; after all, she wasn't free yet. And, in silence, she waited for an answer that could free her from doubt.

Since the day he let Hermione keep the potion, Snape hadn't had a minute of peace. Not that he had before, but since she crossed his path, any remnant of tranquility seemed to have dissolved.

Her presence left him at the mercy of a whirlwind of sensations, and that was precisely the danger: most of them were good. This made him unpredictable, vulnerable. He was hurt by words that, coming from others, would be irrelevant. He said things he should never say. He made gestures he shouldn't; like when he squeezed her hand. It hadn't been premeditated, it just seemed... inevitable. Worse still was the impression that, sometimes, she not only accepted, but encouraged it.

He was lost. With each passing day, he felt his walls crumble, his convictions unravel. He caught himself crafting sentences just to see her smile, seeking pretexts to touch her, even if it was just a brief brush of knees under the table, or the casual friction of elbows. It was pathetic. He was once again like a love-struck fool, and he didn't know if he wanted to put an end to it, or prolong the ruin. Cutting ties would mean hurting her. And she didn't deserve that. He couldn't repeat history... he couldn't be to her what he had been to Lily. But, at the same time, he couldn't bear to relive the same outcome: seeing her leave for the arms of another. And the torment grew daily, because Hermione was getting closer and closer to the empty-headed Marauders. And he feared that history would repeat itself right before his eyes, and that this time, he wouldn't have the strength to stop it.

These thoughts hammered at his mind as he concentrated on his tasks in the library. He was so absorbed that he didn't notice Lily approaching silently.

"Severus?" she whispered, sitting across from him, her green eyes fixed on his.

"Lily... what do you want?" he tried to keep his voice steady, but there was a trace of tension. "Decided to accept my apology?" He hoped so, but didn't have much hope after a year since the incident.

"You know it's not that easy..." she replied, biting her lower lip. "Besides, I don't think you've genuinely regretted it. And, from what I've heard, you're still involved with the Death Eaters."

That accusation, though true, irritated him. What right did she have to interfere? They weren't even friends anymore; she had chosen to be with Potter, he had already apologized, and she hadn't accepted. So, what more did she want?

He slowly got up, gathering his books.

"That's none of your business anymore. You made your choices, and I made mine."

"That's why it would never work between us," Lily said, firmly but with a trembling voice. "You don't want to change." She shook her head negatively and also stood up.

"It would never work because you made your choice before I made mine," he retorted, referring to her having chosen Potter even before he leaned toward the Dark Side.

"And Hermione, would you change for her?" she questioned, indignant. In the face of his silence, she continued: "You two are having something, aren't you? I see the way you look at each other." Her voice trembled.

His mind spun. Irritated and confused, he wanted to end the conversation, but couldn't shake her presence. He turned around, going to return a book, and Lily followed him, silent.

"Why does it matter to you?" he said, holding the book, turning back with coldness. "Tell me, Lily. Where is this conversation going to lead us?" he asked impatiently.

"I... I..." She lowered her eyes, not meeting his gaze. The next moment, she pressed her lips against his.

He froze. It was a gesture he had always wanted to experience, but there, at that moment, it was strange. He closed his eyes, letting his body relax for an instant, but nothing seemed to fit. Lily pulled away, her breath quickened, her hands still touching her lips. He watched her, his heart pounding, trying to understand her intentions.

"No... no," she whispered, almost to herself. "It doesn't feel right." She looked intensely into his eyes. "Please, don't hurt my friend like you hurt me."

And then she turned quickly, leaving a trail of confusion and frustration that hit him like a punch to the stomach. He stood there, motionless, feeling every fragment of impulse, desire, and frustration intertwining. For an instant, he almost wished things had been different... but he knew nothing could change the past that had separated them.

Lily rushed out of the library, her thoughts and feelings in a turmoil. She wanted to cry, but didn't know exactly why. Spotting Hermione, she pulled her by the arm, leading her down the corridor to the girls' bathroom, almost without thinking.

Hermione, startled, tried to understand her friend's urgency.

"Lily, what happened? Are you okay?" she asked, worried. "Why the rush?"

Lily closed the door, taking a deep breath before speaking, her eyes shining with confusion.

"I... I kissed Severus."

Shock was plastered across Hermione's face.

"What?" she cried out, louder than she intended, before composing herself and speaking lower. "What do you mean? Why?"

Lily buried her face in her hands for a moment, then looked at Hermione, hesitant.

"I don't know... I wanted to find out if I felt anything. That's all. But, somehow, it seemed like he... might feel it too..." Her voice trembled. "I had to know!"

Hermione crossed her arms, frowning.

"You wanted to test it?" she murmured. It didn't seem very logical, but it made sense.

"Just that." Lily sighed, relieved to have confessed. "Nothing happened, Hermione. No spark. He was as surprised as I was."

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, curious and anxious. "How did he react?"

"Startled." Lily paused to think. "It didn't click for him or for me. There were no butterflies... nothing."

"But...?" Hermione encouraged.

"But nothing." Lily shrugged. "Cold. Without the warmth I feel with James. With him... it's hot, it fits... you understand?"

Hermione processed the words. The kiss was cold, it didn't fit, but something in her chest tightened: the idea that Snape, somehow, might feel something... caused a sharp pang of tension. Harry would still be born, and nothing could prevent that, but the thought of Snape’s heart beating for her made her body react beyond her control.

"I'm happy you figured that out. I always rooted for you and James," Hermione said, trying to disguise the unease she felt.

Lily stepped forward, looking intently at her, her eyes full of sincerity.

"Hermione... I'm sorry, please. I was so confused with my own feelings that I didn't even think about how you would react." She took a deep breath. "Friend, forgive me."

Hermione blinked, surprised.

"What!?" she said, not immediately understanding. "Oh... you're suggesting that Snape and I..."

Hermione's cheeks flushed. A strange heat rose to her face, and a disquieting sensation ran through her body, as if she had just realized that Snape was closer than she had imagined.

"You don't need to hide anything from me, I'm your friend. It's obvious what's happening between you two..." Lily said softly, firmly. "I just hope you can change him. He hurt me in a way no one ever has, and I don't usually give second chances." She sighed. "But he... he might see in you an opportunity to do things differently."

Hermione felt her heart tighten. There was something more there, something she couldn't ignore. The mere thought of Snape, his reserved way, watching her from afar... evoked a mix of anxiety and curiosity.

"I don't know if I want to be in a relationship with anyone," Hermione confessed. "I'm taking my time."

"That's good." Lily adjusted her hair and robes. "But if you need to vent, I'll be here. Seriously. I won't judge you."

Hermione smiled faintly, her chest tight. It was good to have a friend like that, but she couldn't let herself be distracted from her goal. Her mission depended on it... and, secretly, it also depended on what Snape felt, even if she wasn't yet conscious of it.

POV Snape
After some time reflecting on Lily's action, I could only conclude that it was some kind of test, as she and Potter were clearly still together. I confirmed this at lunch. It was a surprise to discover that I no longer had the same feelings for her. Of course, I will always have affection for everything we experienced and regret for how our friendship ended, but romance, no. I don't know if that reassures or torments me, because it's not as if my heart is empty. I have to admit that Hermione has been occupying more and more space in it.

Lily's last sentence, asking me not to hurt her friend, affected me more than I would like. It fit perfectly into the dilemma consuming me: surrender or pull away? Repeat history or try to break the cycle? During the kiss, for a few seconds, I wished I felt nothing for Lily. Soon after, a fear struck me: what if Granger had seen? She would misunderstand. Maybe she would pull away. If I were the one to see her with someone else, I certainly would never look at her the same way again. I need to find out where I stand. I need certainty.

That afternoon, some classes had free time. I found Hermione lying in the shade of a tree, her hands resting on her body, her gaze lost beyond the leaves and the sky. She seemed distant, thoughtful...

I didn't want to be stared at by her, so I lay down beside her, in the same position.

"What are you thinking about?" I ventured.

"About you," she admitted.

"Lily told you, didn't she?" I kept looking up.

"Yes." She turned her face toward me. "She didn't mean any harm."

"It was a test. Just a damn test," I said, more resentful than I intended. It bothered me that Hermione already knew everything, especially since I had been discarded again. Humiliating.

"Are you disappointed?" she asked.

"No. It was as it should be." I shifted my gaze to her. "And you, are you disappointed?"

"No. I wished it would be like that." She turned to look at the sky again. Her hand slid, coming close to mine. Our arms brushed.

I ran out of air. I stared fiercely at the sky, so as not to look at her. So she wished the kiss meant nothing? By Salazar... I needed to understand what she was hiding between the lines.

"Me too," I murmured, and closed the space between our hands until I intertwined my fingers with hers. "You have been occupying my thoughts more than I would like." She quickly turned to look at me. "Should I be worried?"

Her breathing quickened.

"I think..." her face began to flush, "I think we're facing the same impasse."

My heart pounded. I squeezed her hand tighter. That was flirting, clearly.

"I was thinking... you might like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend," my voice sounded firm, but inside I was trembling.

Her body tensed. Her hand slipped out of mine.

"Ah... well, Lupin already invited me." Those words hit me like a blade. "And I already accepted... I'm sorry."

Something in my expression must have changed, because she seemed worried.

"No. I'm sorry." I stood up and she followed suit. "I'm sorry for thinking that with you, it would be different," my voice came out harsher than I intended.

"Severus, I'm sorry, I..."

"Forget it, Granger," I cut in, cold. "Pretend this day never happened."

I turned my back before she could say more. I walked fast, my fists clenched inside my sleeves. My heart hammered as if it wanted to escape, as if every beat was a confession I would never allow.

How could I have been such an idiot to think, for a moment, that I would have a chance?

Chapter Text

Hermione woke up feeling less enthusiastic than she would have liked about going to Hogsmeade. Snape’s look when she refused his invitation still stung; it seemed like all their progress had suddenly vanished. She felt guilty. But what was she supposed to do? The closeness they were developing felt dangerous, as if they were on the verge of something she couldn't control. What if she returned to the future? What if she altered the timeline? Would it be fair to plant a feeling in someone, knowing she might not stay? She tried to convince herself she was right. She had even invited Lupin to accompany her, believing it would help her distance herself from Severus. Yet, the "correct decision" brought her no peace. On the contrary, it made her more restless.

Snape was also in Hogsmeade. And every time their eyes met, Hermione felt an almost physical pang of anguish. He made no effort to hide his hurt, and she couldn't hide hers either.

"Anywhere in particular you want to go, Hermione?" Remus asked, with his usual calm, trying to break the weight in the air.

"The Three Broomsticks," she answered, almost mechanically.

"Only after we hit Dervish & Banges," James chimed in, winking at Sirius. Hermione immediately caught on to their plan: another prank.

Severus followed them for a while, observant. There were no signs of affection between Hermione and Lupin beyond the usual courtesy; no conspiratorial laughs, no brushing of hands. Lupin even tried to subtly touch hers, but Hermione crossed her arms, pulling away. The frustration still burned inside him, but at least for now, he was satisfied. He decided not to openly pursue her and continued with a few Slytherins toward the Three Broomsticks.

Inside the pub, the situation was unbearable. Laughter, teasing, and mischief spread around. Lupin tried to be kind, talked with Hermione, even gently wiped the foam of the Butterbeer from her lips. Snape clenched his fists under the table, his anger rising like fire. How dare he touch her? he thought, his teeth gritted. Before he could lose control, he left the money on the table and walked out. But not before hearing the Marauders:

"The Three Broomsticks is getting some rough clientele, huh, Padfoot?" James provoked, loud enough for him to hear.

"Be careful, Hermione," Sirius added. "A certain bat might be after you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, irritated.

"I’ve asked you to stop that!" she stood up, decisively. "I won't stay here being complicit in your provocations. Coming, Remus?"

Lupin, embarrassed, followed her.

The walk back to Hogwarts should have been peaceful. Hermione forced herself to look animated next to Remus, but Snape walked just behind them, feeling every one of her laughs like a stab. The final blow came when they stopped in front of a pet store window. Lupin nearly pressed his face against the glass, enchanted, and Hermione smiled radiantly beside him, that rare smile she seldom showed. Snape’s heart constricted. He walked past them with firm strides, unable to bear the sight.

The sun was already setting when he saw the gates of Hogwarts. That’s when James Potter emerged from behind a tree, blocking his path, hands in his pockets and a smug smile.

"Well, well... I thought you were still chasing after Hermione. Must be hard to always be the runner-up, never the one chosen."

Severus narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his wand inside his robe. He was surprised to see Potter alone.

"Pathetic," he snarled, grinding his teeth. "Always the same, always so predictable... even Filch would put on a better show than you."

Sirius appeared right after, laughing. A few students were already starting to gather.

"How about inventing a potion to wash that hair?" Sirius taunted. "Leave the girls to those who know how to use them."

"Or perhaps one to give you a brain," Snape retorted, pushing his way past them.

"Leaving so soon, Snivellus?" Sirius followed him with his eyes, seeming to crave some action.

"Careful, Padfoot," James laughed. "He needs to hurry to finish Hermione's love potion."

Severus suddenly lost his balance and fell to the ground, eliciting loud laughter from the forming audience. In the distance, Pettigrew watched, chuckling, tucked away his wand, and disappeared among the students, preferring not to get involved.

Sirius and James raised their hands, feigning innocence.

"See that?" James said, laughing to the others. "We didn't even touch him."

Humiliation burned on Snape's skin. Looking down at his feet, he saw his shoelaces tied by a spell. He used his wand to undo the knot, his breath heavy, his blood pounding in his temples.

Sirius leaned over him, speaking softly enough for only Severus to hear:

"I told you what was coming was saved up for you."

Snape clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He was ready to explode, but still held back. Until James approached, looking down at him with a fake air of pity that quickly turned into a sneer.

"Look who's on the ground..." his voice carried contempt. "While Lupin and Granger are having fun... Haven't you learned your place yet, Severus?"

That was the last straw.

Snape didn't think, he just lunged at James with a punch directly to the jaw, making the Gryffindor stagger backward. Sirius tried to separate them, but took an elbow to the ribs. The shock of the three fighting spread through the small crowd; some students yelled "fight!" A few seconds later, noticing the commotion, Lupin and Hermione pushed their way through the students. Remus ran toward them, trying to intervene, but the three were blinded by rage. Hermione, breathless, pushed Remus back and advanced, wand in hand. The fight had already escalated to a point where Sirius was holding Severus and James was pointing his wand at him.

"STOP!" Hermione yelled, pointing her own wand at James. "Let him go, Sirius!"

The crowd went silent for an instant.

"Don't get involved, Hermione," Potter growled.

"Don't you dare, James Potter," Lily's voice echoed, firm, as she pushed through the students. "Is this what you came back early for? To play the bully?"

Sirius hesitated. James, frustrated, started to lower his wand. That was enough time for Snape to break free, stand up, and land a punch directly on Sirius's eye. The fight reignited with even more force, pushing and punches flying.

Hermione stood in front of him, her chest heaving.

"IT'S OVER!" her voice cut through the murmur. "You're acting like animals. And you too, Severus!" She shoved him by the shoulder. "To the infirmary. Now!"

He resisted, but let her pull him away, walking backward so as not to give the Marauders a chance. When they finally moved away from the crowd, Hermione gripped his arm tightly.

"Are you okay?" her voice was shaky.

Snape was panting, his face scratched, blood on his lip. A flash of pride crossed his eyes.

"I am. And I guarantee they look worse."

"Why do you always fall for their provocations? That's what they want!"

"I don't have the patience of a saint, Granger. Whenever they come for me, they will find me."

She sighed, exasperated. Still, she didn't let go of him. The fear she felt seeing him under James's wand point would haunt her for a long time.

POV Hermione
We reached the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey quickly approached to examine his injuries. After scolding Snape for the fight, she determined nothing was broken. I sighed with relief. She asked me to help clean his cuts and bruises while she examined Potter and Sirius, who arrived shortly after, occupying the beds on the other side of the room. Before starting, I stood up to close the screen around Snape's bed. I didn't want to hear insults or provocations, though I could still hear Lily scolding James, threatening him if he didn't mature, and Lupin trying to calm things down.

I looked at Severus and felt a squeeze in my chest. All the humiliation, the injuries, my refusal of his invitation. If I hadn't lied that Lupin had invited me and agreed to go with him, none of this would have happened. I thought of the future Severus, alone, and understood how hatred and rejection can take deep root. I sat on the edge of his bed. I was pulled from my thoughts by Professor McGonagall's voice, announcing that Gryffindor would lose points and the Marauders would receive detention. Snape cracked a smile. How could he feel satisfied in that state?

"Looks like Gryffindor won't be taking the House Cup this year."

"Is that what you're thinking about?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes, I need to get some advantage out of this situation," he replied, with a thread of irony. "Besides smashing Potter's... and Black's faces."

I dipped the gauze in a dark red liquid and started cleaning the wounds on his face.

"Promise me this won't happen again. That you won't give in to their provocations," I pleaded.

"That doesn't depend on me. I merely defended myself... and I'd do it all again."

"You did well to defend yourself," I admitted. "But you physically assaulted them... what happened?"

I continued cleaning, tracing the gauze smoothly down his chin, his neck, to his exposed chest. His fair skin was marked with bruises, and a scattering of dark hairs formed a path that made me hold my breath. My face began to heat up; I felt tension, curiosity, something I couldn't ignore. I stopped before getting lost in my thoughts, but the warmth lingered.

"Insinuations..." he said, turning his face slightly.

"About...?" I encouraged, curious, but he hesitated.

"You and Lupin," he murmured. I scoffed. It could only be that.

"What exactly did they say?" I asked, trying to keep a serious tone.

"That I'm always the runner-up... that you two were together." He looked at me intensely. "Happy?"

The anger mixed with worry squeezed my chest. They didn't even know my true feelings.

"Never... I could never be happy seeing you like this," I held his hand, firmly.

He didn't react to my touch, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"Tell another one, Granger. You chose to go out with that flea-ridden Lupin. You don't have to pretend you care," he said with a trace of hurt.

If only he knew...

"I'm confused..." I summarized, trying to be honest. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Of course, I care!"

"So you and Lupin...?"

"No! We're just friends." I squeezed his hand.

"And what am I?" he asked, staring at me intensely.

"More." I couldn't lie. I stroked his hand, feeling the heat rise through my body. I needed to get away before I gave in any further by staying here. "I have to go... Don't forget to take the pain potion," I said, pulling away. "I hope to see you at dinner."

I didn't give him a chance to answer; I still couldn't allow myself to yield.

POV Snape
I kept staring at the spot where Hermione had left. So we were more than friends? And what exactly did that mean? Was I being played for a fool? No, it couldn't be. There were clear signs. She didn't respond to Lupin's advances, she stood in front of me to protect me, she confronted her own friends... She stayed with me in the Hospital Wing, tended to my injuries, without rushing off after the others. Moreover, she touched me intentionally, blushed during our interactions, made a point of showing me I wasn't alone. She was patient, beautiful, intelligent, fearless, strong... I could spend hours listing the qualities and gestures that bound me to her.

I was in love. I could no longer deny it to myself. And maybe she didn't feel the same intensity, but there was something there, and that gave me hope.

Are you going to let time slip away? A voice in my mind reminded me. It was true. If I didn't act, I could lose my chance and revert to the mere role of a friend. No. I wouldn't let that happen again. If she was confused, I would give her certainty.

I swallowed the potion in one gulp and left the Hospital Wing. I needed a shower, clean clothes... and to think about what I would do.

POV SNAPE
It was already dinner time, and Hermione wasn't in the Great Hall. I decided to look for her; I wouldn't wait another hour. The opportunity wouldn't return. I didn't know exactly what I would do or say, but I knew I would be sincere. And what if, in reality, I didn't need to say anything? Some said a kiss was worth a thousand words. I almost chuckled to myself, aware of how cheesy that sounded.

I turned down a corridor and spotted her, walking toward the Gryffindor Tower. The corridor was empty; everyone was already at dinner. Quickening my pace, I approached her and called her name.

"Hermione..."

Before she could react, I pulled her by the arm, bringing our bodies close, leaning in slightly, and kissing her.

My lips met hers, not with force, but with urgency. She stiffened, eyes wide with surprise, but in seconds she relaxed, closed her eyes, and slightly parted her mouth, giving me permission. Her hands rested on my arms, climbing to my shoulders. Somehow, we were pressed against a wall, and the world seemed to have stopped.

Our tongues touched delicately, in a slow, natural dance, exploring, feeling, without rush, but full of intensity. Suddenly, she pulled back, her body rigid again. I opened my eyes and looked at her; she was flushed, her eyes glistening. Perhaps I had moved too fast, I thought.

Then I felt her hands on my face, pulling me back for a second kiss, urgent and decisive. I responded immediately, feeling her hands slide down my neck and shoulders, bringing us even closer. The heat radiating from her, the scent of her hair, the intensity of her touch... it was impossible to doubt: she was responding to me. The kiss continued until we ran out of breath, but she didn't pull away completely. She brushed her lips against mine, lightly kissing my jawline, placing soft kisses. Waves of heat ran through my body; shivers emerged with every touch. I wondered if she felt the same.

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. She pulled away slightly, and I felt as if all the joy in the world went with her. I looked at her, but I couldn't see her face clearly; it was hidden behind her hands, completely red.

I didn't know if it was good or bad. And a question insisted on plaguing me: what would happen now?

"I..." she murmured, slowly lowering her hands from her face. Her eyes were bright, and there seemed to be contained tears there. "I feel..."

She stopped suddenly, as if startled by her own words. She took a deep breath, looking away. "I have to go."

She turned quickly and disappeared down the corridor before I could react.

That hit me like a punch to the stomach. What had she almost said? And why did everything have to be so difficult?

POV Hermione
I ran away. Again.

I didn't have the courage to face him; I didn't have the courage to say what he deserved to hear. I can't trust myself, and that thought hurt more than any wound.

He kissed me.

It was easy to imagine the turmoil in his head before the gesture. I saw in his hands, in the tension of his shoulders, in the urgency of the kiss, a man who had fought with himself for hours. I felt there were so many things he wanted to say.

I responded to him.

I gave in with a desperation that almost scared me. I grabbed him like someone trying to pull the world back to the surface; that's how I felt: drowning and, at the same time, saved. There was such a fine line between showing too much and showing nothing, and I didn't know how to be contained. I can't be subtle. I wanted to translate everything I was holding back into gestures: the embrace, the urgency, the warmth of my hands... It was an attempt to express in touch what words wouldn't allow.

It was hot. It fit. It felt right in a way that left me breathless. It was what I had read in books, but lived, more real and more vulnerable than any page. I wished for other circumstances; a time without missions, without futures hanging on every decision, without the constant vigilance of what I might break just by loving. I wanted to be able to reciprocate without fear.

I realized, with a frightening clarity, that a large part of the reason I kept getting up every morning was the chance to see him. The butterflies in my stomach weren't an occasional metaphor; they became the engine of my day. I can't let his history repeat itself. I don't want him to be alone again. I can't be the cause of that. What overwhelms me is the desire to care for him, to mend him, to love him, and to let him heal me too.

But while I'm here, everything will be a test. Pulling away would be terrible. Giving in completely, perhaps irresponsible. I'm caught between duty and desire, and I feel like, little by little, I'm losing the battle. I sighed, defeated. I stayed there, leaning against the dormitory window, watching the snow fall slowly over the Hogwarts grounds. The white seemed to promise silence and, at the same time, conspiracy. I don't even know how I ended up there.

The next day, right at breakfast, Hermione received a note from Dumbledore asking her to come to his office. She felt anxious; what did he want to tell her?

The atmosphere was heavy. The Marauders remained quiet, and the few interactions they tried to have with her were not reciprocated. After the loss of points that affected all of Gryffindor, the other House members also gave the boys the cold shoulder. They were tired of seeing their House punished for the mischief of others. Lily and James were not doing well; he tried to talk, to crack jokes, but she remained distant.

Hermione decided she would also distance herself from the Marauders. They needed to deal with the consequences of their own wickedness, and she no longer wanted to be complicit in it. Snape, across the Hall, was distracted, his eyes fixed on an undefined spot. He seemed absent. Hermione felt a pang in her chest, but also... what did she expect after running away? She couldn't blame him.

She decided to go straight to her classes. She needed a distraction somehow.

Before lunch, she headed to the Headmaster's office.

Upon entering, she found him leaning over the Pensieve, as if observing distant memories.

"Miss Granger," he greeted her when he noticed her, gently closing the relic. A slight smile curved his lips. "How have you been?"

"Well, as well as can be expected," she answered, sincerely.

"I imagine your stay has been... eventful," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "But tell me, did you expect it to be this way?" he asked, moving toward his desk and gesturing for the student to sit down.

"Not at all. I never thought I'd be in this era, and there's always trouble wherever the Marauders are." She sighed.

"Ah, yes... the Marauders." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, as if pondering. "But it is not of them I wish to speak." His eyes sparkled behind his spectacles. "What about young Severus Snape?"

Hermione hesitated. "He is my friend."

"Friend..." Dumbledore repeated softly, as if weighing the word. "Friendship is a powerful seed, Miss Granger. But it bears remembering that, in the garden of time, even the smallest deviation can cause a tree to grow in another direction."

Hermione remained silent.

"Tell me..." he continued, rising and walking slowly around the room, "when you interfere, do you act with full intention? Or do you merely let events sweep you along?"

"I've been letting things happen... I interfere when opportunities arise."

"Hmm..." he murmured, stroking his beard. "The danger with feelings is that they rarely ask permission before blossoming. And once they have blossomed... we can hardly pull them out without leaving roots."

Hermione lowered her eyes, remembering the kiss.

"What guarantees do you have that the affection you plant today will not change the course of tomorrow?" he continued, without harshness, but firm. "And if you must leave suddenly... do you not fear that, instead of hope, you will leave only ruins?"

"Yes... I fear it every day. I don't know what I'm allowed to feel or how far I can go."

"A noble doubt." Dumbledore nodded. "But some answers do not belong to reason. They belong only to the heart."

Hermione felt her stomach clench.

"But what about when I leave?" she asked in a thin voice. "Wouldn't it be unfair to plant something in someone and then disappear?"

Dumbledore watched her for a long time, with that look that seemed to pierce her soul.

"Tell me, Hermione. Did the Dumbledore of your time... tell you exactly how your return would occur?"

She searched her memory, looking, but found nothing.

"No. He didn't give details."

"Ah..." he murmured, stroking his beard, as if thinking aloud. "Then perhaps... perhaps the plan never included a return."

Hermione left the office with her mind in a whirlwind. Dumbledore's words hammered like bells: there are moments when the heart must guide us.

She had always trusted logic, reason, the exact calculations of consequences. But, for the first time, she admitted to herself that no logic was possible anymore: she was in love. The kiss, the dedication, the way Severus made her feel alive through everything... it wasn't something she could deny. And yet, the revelation that the future Dumbledore had never mentioned her return hit her hard. Had he deliberately omitted it? Or was there, in fact, never an intention to bring her back?

She looked at the staircases ahead, but what she saw was Severus's face, the weight of the loneliness he carried... and the warm memory of his lips on hers. Maybe she didn't need to decide right now about the future, about going back, about the fate of the world. Maybe, for now, it was enough to allow herself to feel.

But the question remained, pounding in her mind: What if there's no turning back?

Chapter Text

"Mr. Snape, what ingredient quickly neutralizes the effect of aconite poison?" Slughorn asked, but I didn't realize he was speaking to me. His voice sounded distant. My mind tirelessly replayed every instant with Hermione—including the kiss. I was searching for something to justify my rashness. I couldn't accept her silence. The signals, the touches, the complicity couldn't have been invented by me.

"Mr. Snape?" the Professor insisted, pulling me back. The other students were probably already staring at me.

"Bezoar," I answered, mechanically.

"Perfect! Five points to Slytherin."

Not even that brought me satisfaction. Anguish consumed me, and I felt hollow. There was no conflict, only resignation. Perhaps my destiny was always the same: to be alone. The days dragged on. The snow falling outside mirrored the weight inside me. I didn't see Hermione anymore. Maybe she was hiding. Maybe I just couldn't see her. I barely ate; the simple act of chewing nauseated me. I was trapped inside myself, and the worst part was beginning to feel comfortable in that numbness.

Until fate intervened. In the library, lost among shelves I wasn't truly reading, I felt a touch on my arm. Only then did I notice her. It was she. Concern clouded her face.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. "I haven't seen you in a few days..."

Nothing was alright. And she knew it.

"How long will you pretend nothing happened?" The question came out more painfully than I intended.

"I... I don't know what to say." She lowered her eyes.

"Just say you regretted it," I pushed. I needed any answer.

"I didn't regret it," she said quickly, firmly. "What do you want me to say?" She raised her gaze, and there was desperation in her eyes.

I stayed silent. She knew what I expected. She always had.

"I can only say that... I don't want this to end," she confessed.

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Then don't let it end," I pleaded, urgently.

"I can't promise anything. I don't even know if this will be enough for both of us, but... are we okay?" she said, touching my face. I closed my eyes under the warmth of her hand; it was the first living sensation in days.

"For now, I can settle for that." And it was true. I would try to settle for just being... okay. Not together, not labeled, just... okay.

"I don't want to see you like this, lifeless. It's destroying me," she whispered.

"I'll be fine. We will be... Just don't pull away again. Fight, yell, or stay silent, just don't... disappear."

She hugged me. Her arms wrapped around my waist, and her head rested against my chin. The subtle scent of her hair mixed with the warmth of her body against mine. I instinctively squeezed her, as if afraid she might slip away.

"I'll try..." she murmured.

A spark of hope ignited in me. Could we finally walk on less cruel ground? Could I allow myself to hope?

I just wanted time to stop right there, with her in my arms.

POV Hermione
The following days unfolded differently. I felt lighter after the conversation with Dumbledore. I decided that I would make my stay in the past less burdensome, regardless of whether I returned to the future or not. I needed this. I was causing suffering to myself and Severus, and he didn't deserve it. This didn't mean abandoning the mission, but rather being more aware of my feelings. I couldn't just wait for opportunities: it was my duty to create or shape them.

I reached out to Lily. She confided her hurt over James: he had promised changes, and she didn't know if she should believe him. Thinking of Harry, I encouraged her to be patient. A lasting relationship needs to be shaped slowly. Patience was the key.

In return, to solidify our friendship, I told her about Severus and me; the kiss, my confused feelings... some things. She was worried. She said she heard rumors about him keeping company with Voldemort supporters and warned me to be careful. She promised to tell me if she learned anything concrete. Still, she encouraged me to take things slowly so I wouldn't get hurt. I was happy with our conversation; it was productive for both of us... and for the future.

As for Severus and me, things flowed. We spent time together: we sat side-by-side in some classes, paired up for assignments, and continued our private Potions lessons. There were some awkward silences, but also furtive kisses in empty corridors, intentional touches, and long glances. We didn't label it. I hoped that would be enough for us, for now.

The Christmas atmosphere was already taking over Hogwarts; decorations were appearing, and students were bustling, planning their holidays. I would be staying at the castle, for obvious reasons. If Snape stayed too, maybe it would be the perfect opportunity to get closer. And that was the danger: I was inclined to allow it. I deserved some moment of happiness at Christmas, didn't I? I was far from my family, my friends, everything I believed to be eternal. Allowing myself a distraction seemed fair.

It was the weekend, and the Great Hall was therefore much emptier. I was sitting, waiting for lunch to be served while reading something, but at some point, I must have stopped reading and started reflecting.

"Pensive, Hermione?" His deep voice sounded low, close to my ear, sending a shiver through me.

I turned, controlling my smile. "I was wondering if you would show up for lunch... or if I'd have to raid the dungeons to force-feed you."

He raised an eyebrow, amused. "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't doubt it, Snape," I retorted, lifting my chin. "But seriously, if you keep eating so poorly, you'll end up on my list of obligations."

"Excellent. Besides tormenting me, now you plan to be my private nurse?"

"If necessary."

A low sound escaped his throat, something between a laugh and disbelief.

"I'm inclined to pay to watch."

I rolled my eyes but let it slide.

"Actually, I was thinking about the Christmas break."

He watched me attentively.

"You're staying here, aren't you?"

"Yes. It's not like I have anywhere else to go..." I replied simply. "And you?"

"Not with my parents." He paused briefly, as if choosing his words. "I'd prefer to stay... with you. But I might spend a few days at a friend's house."

The way he said "friend" raised a red flag for me.

"Friend?" I raised an eyebrow. "From Hogwarts?"

"Yes. A Housemate. We arranged it earlier."

I tilted my head.

"May I know his name?"

He let out a breath of irony.

"Oh, Hermione... since when do you need a list of everyone I know? Besides, he's a Slytherin. I don't think you two would get along."

I bit my tongue to keep from saying aloud what I thought: we wouldn't get along because he probably dreams of kneeling before the Dark Lord. That company hurt me. Lily might be right: changing Severus wouldn't be simple. But I refused to believe he was a lost cause.

"I'm just curious to know more about you," I lowered my tone, feigning casualness. "If you really have to go, that's fine." I sighed, a little disheartened. "I heard Remus is staying at Hogwarts. He'll keep me company," I added with false lightness.

Severus's eyes narrowed slightly. He leaned in again, his voice grazing my ear:

"Be careful, Hermione. I wouldn't mind smashing another Marauder's face."

I held back a laugh, feigning indifference. He then completed, in a low, almost intimate tone:

"During the break... I'll tell you everything you want to know about me."

Before I could answer, his eyes slid over the Slytherin table. A group had stood up, heading toward the dungeons. He seemed to hesitate, then muttered:

"I have to go... Prefect duties," he said, pulling away. "I'll see you later."

And he hurried off to join the others. That scene was very clear: something was happening in the Slytherin dungeon. And I could bet it was serious. Maybe even Death Eater recruitment. Severus might try to hide it, but with every step, I was more certain that I needed to act sooner than I had imagined.

POV Hermione
On Monday, four days before the start of the holidays, I noticed that Severus was indeed getting closer to a specific Slytherin, and I needed help confirming my suspicions. During lunch, when the boy approached Severus to talk, I nudged Lily, who was sitting next to me, to discretely get her attention.

"Lily, do you know who that is talking to Severus?" I whispered, fiddling with my plate to avoid drawing attention.

The redhead glanced over, frowning.

"Ah... that's Daryon Nott. Son of a Death Eater. They say his father is You-Know-Who's right-hand man. Why do you ask?"

My chest tightened, and my stomach turned. I pushed my plate away and looked at her.

"I just wanted to be sure... they seem to be getting closer every day."

"And have you thought about what you're going to do?" she lowered her voice, alarm in her eyes.

"No. I'm trying to take it slow."

Lily sighed, clearly worried.

"Hermione, be careful... There are more and more rumors about You-Know-Who's rise, disappearances of Muggles, unexplained crimes... Time is running out."

Time. Always a matter of time in my life.

"I know," I murmured, resignedly, "I just didn't want to confront him directly... I wanted his desire to step away from bad influences to be genuine."

She looked at me, firmly.

"Hermione, you're in love, my friend... It's normal to idealize certain situations. But I don't know if it will work like that with Severus. He's complicated, but you are something he has never had. Use that to your advantage."

"Are you saying I should threaten him?" I murmured, surprised at myself for considering it.

"Yes. Tell him you'll disappear from his life if he doesn't cut ties with the bad influences. But be prepared to actually follow through, if necessary. He's a man... and he will yield. James himself changed after I was firm with him; he's even considering joining the Order."

The word "Order" lit up something in my mind.

"The Order of the Phoenix, you mean?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes! There are rumors of selective meetings with Dumbledore. He's recruiting some people. James said Sirius would arrange everything for me to be invited after the holidays. I can mention you too, if you want. Maybe you'll rekindle your friendship."

I didn't plan to rekindle my friendship with the Marauders anytime soon, but the idea of participating in the Order of the Phoenix interested me. Perhaps it would help me do more for Harry in the future. Becoming their friend again didn't seem so bad.

"That would be great... we need to stick together in these times of war," I murmured, recalling the words of the future Dumbledore.

"I think so too," Lily said, standing up. "Think about what I told you... and if you test it out, tell me later if it worked."

Ah... the ultimatum. Maybe that's what he needs... or maybe I'm rushing things. But I have neither the time nor the luxury to wait.

POV Snape
The weight of my choices was crushing me. The rise of the Dark Lord was undeniable, and the pressure on me grew daily. In the Slytherin dungeon, meetings and conversations on the subject were constant, and my presence was always requested. A certain pride stemmed from this: I was skilled, intelligent, excellent in spells, potions, and dark magic. The incident with Potter and Black hadn't gone unnoticed. Nott had invited me to spend the holidays at his house, and I knew what that meant. I had passed the test. The Dark Mark awaited me. And yet, none of this brought satisfaction.

There was Hermione. She would never accept this, and yet, I couldn't push her out of my mind. I had very strong feelings for her, it was true, but what about her for me? She never named what we had; she always fled any closeness that could lead to something more. Secret kisses and touches, stolen glances... but talking about deep feelings seemed almost a crime. How could I believe that this could evolve? She hesitated, she stopped herself from loving me.

I saw the suspicion in her eyes when she saw me accompanied by Nott or other Slytherins. I noticed her closeness to Lily, her gestures of care and attention. She was smart; she certainly noticed something. And the sadness she tried to hide struck me like fine blades, cutting the pride that kept me upright. Every gesture of hers launched me into new questions: was I making the wrong decision again? What if everything we had lived had the chance to become something more... something real, and I was throwing it all away for ambition?

Part of me wanted to believe in what we had, in the silent messages she sent me without realizing it. The memory of her hands on my face, the subtle touch on my waist, the intense look fixed on me, insisting I make the right choice... all of it screamed for attention. But another part insisted on focusing on my own ascent. Love had never brought me anything but failure, pain, and loss. Nothing but regret.

And yet, she was there, suspended between my memories and my ambition, reminding me that there was something that might be worth the risk.

Chapter Text

GENERAL NARRATION

Christmas had finally arrived. Hogwarts managed to bring a sense of harmony even to the most troubled hearts. Hermione woke up determined to enjoy the day, putting aside sadness or problems. The night before, she had cried, missing her parents, her friends, the Christmases they had spent together... but today, she only wanted to live in the moment. She put on her red Gryffindor Christmas sweater, with her initial embroidered in orange, and colored fairy lights that twinkled softly, flashing in sync with her enthusiasm. She picked up the carefully wrapped box, took a deep breath, and headed to the Great Hall.

The hall was nearly empty, as expected during the holidays. Snape was already waiting for her, alone, and let out a discreet chuckle when he saw her from a distance. Hermione smiled back, blushing slightly, and approached the table.

"Like my formal attire?" she asked, sitting down and pushing the box toward him. "Merry Christmas!"

"You wouldn't dare..." he said, surprised, picking up the box.

Inside, rested a green Slytherin sweater, with his initial in gray, and small magical fairy lights that blinked cheerfully. He lifted the sweater, his eyes wide, and took a deep breath:

"That is... pathetic."

Hermione couldn't help a soft laugh.

"I thought it was very you." She leaned in slightly, her fingers brushing lightly against his over the box.

"Very funny, Granger..." he murmured, crossing his arms, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. "You'll pay for this. And I'm not wearing it."

"Yes, you are," she teased, sliding her leg under the table until it touched his. "We’re going to match... you're not going to deny me, are you?"

He looked away for a moment, visibly awkward, but then sighed and, with a resigned gesture, took off his black sweater and put on the gift. His eyes quickly surveyed his body, embarrassed, and he felt his face warm.

"I look... ridiculous," he muttered. "And everyone is staring..."

Hermione smiled, holding his hand over the table. He froze for an instant, feeling the electricity of the touch. Small shivers ran up his arm, and he looked at her, trying to hide the smile that threatened to escape.

"Let them stare... it's not our fault we're happy," she said, raising her glass of pumpkin juice.

He raised his, looking at her with an expression that mixed amusement and tenderness:

"To you, Hermione, for being so ridiculously charming."

They clinked glasses and drank together. Hermione noticed every detail: his shoulders relaxing, the way his expression softened, the discreet smile when he thought no one was watching. And Snape, in turn, felt a peace he hadn't expected; that touch, that look, that shared instant.

"No more than you," she murmured, squeezing his hand.

As the feast magically appeared on the table, he gave her an amused look:

"Only Hogwarts..."

Hermione laughed, leaning a little closer to him, the warmth of her body mingling with his, and they simply remained there, in comfortable silence, as if every touch and every smile spoke louder than words.

That Christmas would be unforgettable. Hermione knew exactly where she wanted to be, and Snape, though he didn't need to say it, felt that this was, so far, the best Christmas of his life. For the first time, they could allow themselves to be happy together, even if only for a magical moment.

POV HERMIONE

Two days had passed since Christmas, and Lily’s words still echoed in my head. Should I confront Severus? And if so, when? We were fine—or at least it seemed that way—and I didn't want to ruin it. But the ticking clock hammered in my mind whenever I saw him: every second next to him could be pushing him toward the dark.

That evening, we had arranged to meet in the corridor to go to the Room of Requirement. Before turning the corner, however, I heard voices. Instinctively, I stopped and listened.

"It's set, Severus. You cannot turn back... Tomorrow night, we'll leave through the Forest," the other voice whispered, low and firm.

"If I said I'm going, I'm going. I don't need you to remind me," he replied, more contained than I expected.

"Many desire this chance. The Lorde wants to meet you..."

My heart nearly leaped out of my mouth; I couldn't breathe. So this was already in motion? Voldemort already wanted to meet him?

It was probably Nott, but that didn't matter. Footsteps moved away. My hands trembled. I couldn't believe it.

When I turned the corner, I was already standing before him.

"So this is your great friend... A Death Eater's son?" I asked, my voice cutting through the corridor.

"No, Hermione. You are misunderstanding everything," he tried to approach. I saw surprise on his face; he had never seen me like this.

"Don't you dare try to flip this around," I replied, the urgency making me speak louder than I intended. "I heard... Voldemort already knows about you. How could you? Don't you read the news? Do you have any idea what he does to people like us?"

Tears threatened. Saying it all out loud made the gravity more real.

"Hermione... I..." He stumbled over his words, drawing closer, and I backed away.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted. "I cannot accept this."

"Hermione, listen. You need to understand." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. His urgency grew. "I am confused too. You never gave me certainty, you won't talk about the future... what did you want me to do?"

"Anything but this. Anything but hiding, anything but joining those who deny my very existence." I took a deep breath, fighting back tears. "I was right to be suspicious. Look where we are."

"You were avoiding making it official because you feared I would... go to the dark side?" His voice broke into a thread. "You never saw me as someone worthy of trust?"

"And I was right," I replied, wiping my tears with my sleeve.

He stopped dead, as if I had struck him. Then he exploded:

"Enough! Who are you to point fingers at me? You never gave me certainty, you never gave yourself fully to me," his voice cracked. "You don't hold me, and you don't let me go, either. Tell me... how is someone supposed to live like that?" He lifted his head, hurt and furious.

I didn't have the courage to look at him for a second. I acknowledged my mistakes, but I saw no way to justify his choices.

"I may have been wrong," I admitted, softly. "But I was always honest about how I feel."

"No, you were not!" he yelled. "And you aren't being honest now!" That desperation made me back up.

That's when I stopped defending myself and let out everything I had been holding back:

"I am in love with you!" I confessed, louder than I intended. "Even these walls know it." The tears came again. I saw his expression change. "But I am willing to leave you."

There was a silence that felt heavy as stone. He looked disbelieving.

"Hermione, no. We can sort this out..." the plea sounded almost childish.

"I won't tolerate it. It is non-negotiable for me," I said, injecting every ounce of firmness I could muster. "If you don't permanently break ties with Voldemort and his crowd, I will leave you. I will vanish from your life. I'll change schools, change cities. I will forget you."

He swallowed hard. For a moment, I wondered if he truly had the courage for such a thing.

"If..." he murmured, hesitant, "if I do that... will you stay with me? For good? No more ambiguity, no more furtive touches... openly?"

I took a deep breath. It was little, and it was everything. If that was the price to save him from himself, I was willing to pay it.

"Yes." The word came out firm. "I will stay."

He nodded, almost relieved, and turned to walk away. I didn't wait to see him leave; I wasn't entirely sure what his complete decision would be. I could only pray it was the right one.

POV SNAPE

I returned to the dormitory as if the entire night had condensed into a fist in my chest. I sat on my bed, rested my elbows on my knees, and hid my face in my hands. I was a fool. How could I have believed that accumulating power and alliances would erase what was between us? How could I sleep knowing I lost someone for ambition?

The thought of not seeing her every day, of not being able to touch her, brought on a cold nausea. I almost cried; it had been a long time since I allowed myself that. The decision, however, became clear as a knife's edge: she was worth it. Every piece of me that was comforted by the idea of the dark now shattered at the thought of the real price of that choice.

The next day, in the evening, I went up to the Slytherin Tower. I had arranged to meet Nott. He appeared with the easy smile that was always a mask: his eyes animated, his voice low like someone bearing dangerous news.

"The time is now," he said, approaching with the quick pace of those accustomed to getting what they want. "Are you ready? The Lord does not appreciate delays."

I opened the book on my lap without actually reading the page; the cover served only as an excuse to remain still.

"I am not going," I replied dryly, without looking at him.

He stopped, his smile fading. "What was that? Severus... this is not a casual invitation. It is a summons. The Lord himself asked for you."

I closed the book with a restrained snap and looked at him. There was a new coldness in my voice.

"Then ask again. I am not a dog to run at the first whistle."

Nott's eyes narrowed, showing anger and fear simultaneously. His hand instinctively found the hilt of his wand.

"You think you can just... refuse? Do you think there will be no cost?"

"I get to choose the cost," I said, slowly. "And right now, the price that suits me does not include kneeling to anyone."

He took a step forward, his voice low and cutting:

"You are playing with fire, Snape. The Lord knows where to find everyone you care about."

"I have no one," I replied, but the lie sounded harsh even to me.

"Everyone has something to lose. And he knows how to exploit that better than anyone. Think carefully."

Standing up, I let the silence linger before adding:

"Consider this the end of our conversations, Nott. Do not seek me out for these proposals."

I saw, for a second, the mask drop completely: contempt, surprise, and the implied promise of retaliation. He retreated, without grace, mixing anger and distrust, and disappeared down the humid corridors of the tower.

As soon as he left, a rustling behind the common room curtains gave away that we were not alone. I saw Mulciber lean back against the wall, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Interesting..." he murmured, before disappearing as well.

Certainty hit me like a punch: the news would spread even before Nott reached the tower exit.

I remained still, feeling the weight of what I had just done. Choosing Hermione was simple. Living with the consequences... would be much harder. Every step I took from here on would be watched, every decision contested. Still, there was no doubt: she was worth any risk, any future torment. For the first time, ambition seemed smaller than the desire to protect something that truly mattered.

My heart was still pounding, the adrenaline of the refusal was beginning to subside, but a pang of restlessness remained. And perhaps that was what growing up meant: accepting that some victories cost more than gold or power. They cost the heart.

GENERAL NARRATION

The next morning, Hermione was having breakfast in the Great Hall with the Daily Prophet open in front of her, covering her entire field of vision. This was how she preferred to be: invisible, protected by the printed words. It had been nearly two days since she last saw Severus, and instinctively, she suspected he had already made a decision. The newspaper headlines didn't help; a recent Death Eater attack on a Muggle village was highlighted; there were reports that the number of supporters had increased. Hermione swallowed hard. What if Severus was already among them?

She heard a sound near the table: footsteps and something being set down on the wood. She lowered the newspaper. It was him. Her body relaxed without her realizing it.

"You said you wanted to read... so I wrote it." He sat down across from her and pushed a book toward her. "Every detail, every formula... for you."

Outwardly, it was a simple, brown, hardcover volume; when she opened it, the familiar handwriting made her hold her breath. It was his Potions notebook, with the recipes he had honed by testing and re-testing. Hermione leafed through the pages with a knot of emotions; all of them, strangely, were good.

He watched her with contained anxiety; he had been working on it for weeks, without ever being truly sure if he would have the opportunity to gift it to her. He had even thought about a ring, a piece of jewelry, more obvious gestures, but he knew nothing would show her as much as this: knowledge, time, care.

"You did all of this for me?" she asked, moved.

"Everything for you... and because of you. Always." The phrase had a double meaning that only the two of them understood: the decision was made.

"It's perfect." Smiling, she reached out to touch his face. "Thank you. I didn't prepare anything for you," she apologized, shyly.

"I don't need a gift. You are already enough." He took her hand delicately, kissing her fingers and the back of her hand. Hermione felt shivers; she couldn't look away.

There were murmurs around them, a few glances coming from the Slytherin table, but right there, between the two of them, the world narrowed.

"So...?" she encouraged, wanting certainty.

"It's over. Everything I need is right here." He squeezed her hand.

It was everything she needed to hear.

"So, now you're my boyfriend?" she teased, with a smile.

"Boyfriend, husband... lover..." he smirked. "And friend, too."

Hermione blushed, delighted by the possibilities.

"And what does my dear boyfriend plan to do on New Year's Eve?" she asked.

He leaned in, lowered his voice to a whisper:

"Stay with you. The whole day. Just us."

Hermione closed the book carefully, as if it were the most precious thing she had ever received, and hugged it to her chest. Her eyes shone, but not just with emotion; there was also a certain desire to have that moment just for them.

"Want to get out of here?" she asked in a low voice, glancing sideways at the surrounding tables.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but the discreet curve of his lips suggested it was a tempting proposal. He stood up without saying a word, just extending his hand. Hermione immediately took it, ignoring the whispers behind them.

They walked side by side to the side corridor, and then out of the Hall. He guided her silently along a path Hermione didn't remember using before, until they reached a small, dusty room that smelled of old parchment. An old study room, perhaps.

Snape closed the door behind them with an almost imperceptible flick of his wand. The silence that settled in felt welcoming, protected.

"Now, then..." he said, approaching slowly.

Hermione put the book on a desk and turned to face him. His gaze was intense, but for the first time, there was no harshness at all, only deep, almost reverent affection.

He touched her face with his fingertips, as if he was still afraid of breaking her.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me," he murmured.

Hermione smiled, closing the distance that remained between them. "I think I do know," she replied, before letting their lips meet.

It was a slow kiss, full of meaning, but also full of promise. They needed no words to seal what was already decided: they were together.

Chapter Text

POV HERMIONE

For the last two nights, I had managed to sleep peacefully, but only after thinking about what Severus might be doing... whether he was already asleep, whether he was thinking of me. This calm was the result of our relationship being public and the stability a label brought. Even so, I couldn't help but wonder: if I decided to return to the future, how would these ever-growing bonds fare? I tried to push these thoughts away before falling into an endless cycle of torture.

Another doubt also haunted me: had I been right to trust him? Would he really stay away from bad company? Perhaps, with time, the answers would become clearer.

For now, I tried to focus on something simpler: transfiguring an outfit into a decent set of pajamas. Our New Year's Eve was going to be... different.

GENERAL NARRATION

That night, after dinner, Hermione headed to the Room of Requirement as they had arranged. She wore a simple, light pink nightgown, mid-thigh length, with a thick robe tied at the waist. She didn't want to look vulgar, but she also didn't want to be cold. She thought the choice was appropriate. The atmosphere did not disappoint: a yellow glow from magical candles, a large window open to the snow-covered grounds, a crackling fireplace, and cushions scattered over a plush rug.

Soon Severus walked in. His black pajamas hung loosely, the shirt unbuttoned at the top.

"Aren't you cold?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows and sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. "How is it possible to live near the dungeons without freezing?"

"It's hard to feel cold... when I'm thinking of you," he replied, with a teasing tone, sitting down across from her.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Very funny... And what do you think of the ambiance?"

He looked around, evaluating. "Almost perfect. Only missing this." And, with a gesture, a Wizard Chess board appeared between them. Then he pulled a bottle of ruby-red liquid from his robes. "And this."

"Wine?" Hermione widened her eyes. "How did you get that?"

"Read the book I gave you, and you'll find out." He poured two glasses.

She hesitated but took hers. "I'm not used to drinking..."

"You're safe with me." He took a sip and placed his glass beside him. "But admit... I would love to see you completely unreserved."

A blush rose to her face. Hermione drank. Hours passed between laughter, teasing, and chess strategies. She never won, but the wine made her bolder; they celebrated each move with lingering kisses and gazes that burned hotter than the fireplace.

Finally, Hermione gave up, falling back onto the cushions, laughing. "That's it, I can't take losing anymore."

Severus pushed the board aside, moving closer. "You've improved. Now it takes you two extra minutes to be defeated."

She feigned offense.

"Don't be upset..." his voice dropped, heavy with promise. "I have a consolation prize."

Before she could answer, he kissed her. Urgent. Deep. Hermione felt his warm mouth, the sweet taste of wine, and yielded. He then trailed kisses down her neck, nibbling, pulling aside the robe to reach her bare shoulder. She pressed him against herself, her hands tangled in his hair. Her robe slipped entirely from her shoulders, revealing her breasts outlined beneath her nightgown. He touched them lightly, eliciting soft moans. His member pulsed harder, seeing her flushed, hair disheveled, moaning under his touch.

Hermione was completely at his mercy. When he touched her breasts, she felt her lower abdomen throb, and something hard pressing against her intimacy. Feeling his lips on her breast, she almost gave in completely, moaning, squeezing his shoulders.

"Stop..." she whispered. "We need to stop."

He pulled back, attentive to her signals.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

"It's not that..." she replied, adjusting her clothes, sitting up next to him. "We need to go slower."

"I understand. I think... I got carried away," he said, adjusting himself.

"It's fine, it's just that... I've never..." She lowered her eyes, blushing.

His silence was one of surprise, followed by a rare tenderness.

"Then tonight, let me take care of you..." He brushed her hair away from her shoulder and placed a soft kiss there.

Hermione hesitated but nodded. She trusted him. He gently laid her down. He began with soft touches to her legs and heels, tracing her skin with his lips and nose, admiring the softness of her skin.

"You are perfect..." he whispered, trailing his lips up her leg with adoration. "All of you."

Hermione was fascinated; he guided the moment with care and reverence, sending shivers through her body. Severus moved to the inside of her thighs, noting the girl's sensitivity. She propped herself up on her elbows out of curiosity but soon gave herself over to the caresses. He skillfully moved her panties aside, then lightly touched her intimacy with his tongue.

The moist touch of his tongue pulled an immediate moan from her. Hermione arched her body, surprised by the act and the intensity. She couldn't think anymore, only feel. She squeezed her own breasts, murmuring his name, lost. Severus maintained the rhythm, attentive to every reaction, as if decoding a rare potion. He focused on satisfying her. He felt her tremor, then immediately relax, reaching her climax. He paused, looking at her; eyes closed, lips parted, completely flushed.

Hermione thought about what had happened: it was marvelous. Her body was relaxed, ready for sleep. The bad part? Not knowing if she could live without this. She slowly opened her eyes, still flushed, and pulled him into a long, wet kiss. She didn't know if she could form a sentence. When they separated, he lay down beside her, supported by the cushions, and she nestled on his chest. Her breathing soon became calm, heavy. She was asleep. Severus looked out the window. Fireworks colored the sky of a new year. He pulled her close, placed a kiss on her head, and thought, in silence: I would move heaven and earth to keep her this way; safe, happy, mine.

POV HERMIONE

I woke up to the first rays of sun streaming into the room. I had to open my eyes slowly to adjust to the light. I immediately felt the warmth emanating from Severus's body; we were lying on our sides, him embracing me from behind, one arm beneath my head and the other draped over my waist. It was so comfortable that I could have stayed there all day, if not for the reminder that I needed to return to the dormitory before others woke up. It wouldn't be appropriate to walk around Hogwarts in pajamas.

I decided to turn slightly, stretching to help wake him. I felt him stir, still wrapped around me, but I remained close, lying on his arm, feeling the calm rhythm of his breathing. Thoughts about what I would say began to form, and I quickly remembered the promise he had made me: I needed to collect before he forgot.

"You know I remembered? Your promise to tell me everything about yourself..."

He stretched, still half-asleep.

"You were sleeping so peacefully I didn't want to wake you..."

Maybe he was joking, maybe he was avoiding the subject; it didn't matter, I would insist. I needed to understand a bit more of what had shaped him.

"I'm awake now. You can tell me..."

I turned to face him, trying to show my expectation with my eyes. He looked at me and, for an instant, seemed to evaluate whether he should continue to evade.

"And what is it you want to know so much about me?"

"I don't know... Tell me about your childhood, your parents, whatever you want."

He hesitated, his hands restless on his chest.

"My childhood was... lonely. I didn't have siblings. My parents didn't get along."

He seemed to soften it too much, summarizing too much.

"It wasn't a happy marriage?" I tried, carefully not to pressure him.

"No. Never was. My father was always aggressive, he still is. My mother... too submissive. We lived on the bare minimum." Pause. "Then I met Lily. We were friends. She was something good amidst all that chaos."

He stopped. Perhaps he felt remorse for not maintaining that friendship.

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it must have been like to live that way." I awkwardly draped my arm over him, trying to hug him. "So... you came to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. We were sorted into different Houses, and I watched Lily grow closer and closer to the empty-headed Marauders you know, while I got closer to... Slytherin classmates." His fingers distractedly twirled a curl of my hair.

So it was in Lily's absence that he started getting involved with bad influences... It makes sense, but it doesn't excuse his choices.

"And that's all," he concluded.

"That's all?" I asked, incredulously. "Sixteen years summarized in two sentences?"

"Oh, come on, Granger. The rest you already know. Your little friends tormenting me, Lily interfering, I said what I shouldn't have... and here we are."

"Ah, no, Severus. Summarizing is fine, but skipping a gigantic part is unfair."

"Don't be a busybody, Granger." He gave me a quick kiss. "I don't want to keep talking about the past. My present and future are right here, in front of me."

I felt a pang in my chest at the intensity of his expectations.

"I just want to know you better..." I lay back down, stroking his chest. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything I should know?"

He hesitated, his hand softly caressing my back.

"My maternal grandfather... is alive," he said, cautiously. "The Prince family is traditional, respected in the wizarding world. He wants me to be the heir."

Surprise. The future Severus didn't seem to have accepted such a position.

"And your mother? You said you lived a simple childhood..."

"My mother was disinherited when she married my Muggle father. My grandfather wants me to take over the businesses and properties..."

That revelation made me uneasy; was it prejudice or something deeper? I decided not to show my worries yet.

"And how do you feel? Is that what you want?"

"A while ago, it wasn't. Today, maybe..."

"Whatever your decision is, I will support you." I kissed his chest, feeling his breathing accelerate. "Thank you for trusting me."

"You will always have whatever you want from me, Hermione..." He gently pulled my chin, sealing my lips in a tender kiss.

The empathy I felt for the future Snape grew like a silent flame. That young man was alone, with no apparent reason to fight, and now, I could be the strength he needed. Now he would have someone: me. Someone willing to show him that he was worthy of love, loyalty, and trust.

Perhaps landing in this time was exactly what he needed. Maybe every small change I make, even without planning, will reverberate in the future in ways I can't even imagine.

And yet, the more I meddled with the timeline, the more I felt the weight of the impossible: leaving without messing everything up and without shattering my own heart...

Chapter Text

POV NARRATOR

The Christmas break at Hogwarts had come to an end, bringing students back along with their worries about the O.W.L.s, the next major milestone of the year.

It had only been a few days since she was with Severus in the Room of Requirement. The short holiday had been good; a breath of peace, a time to strengthen their bond and advance their relationship a little more. But now, back in the Great Hall, Hermione realized things wouldn’t be so easy. Curious, pitying looks and whispers followed her every step. News of her relationship with Snape had spread, and the corridors were buzzing with speculation.

Still, nothing compared to the heavy atmosphere hanging over the Slytherin table. The looks cast toward Severus were malicious, almost venomous, and she caught words exchanged between him and a few boys that sounded anything but friendly.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just gossips.” Lily said, sitting down beside her. The redhead’s eyes followed Hermione’s gaze to the green and silver table. “Things over there don’t look good at all… Mulciber and Avery look like they’re trying to burn a hole through Severus just by looking at him.”

Hermione pressed her lips together, feeling a weight in her chest. Lily had already understood that the ultimatum Hermione had given Severus had worked, but now Hermione herself wondered at what cost.

“The worst part is, I don’t know what to do to help.” she sighed, distractedly stirring her plate.

“The best thing is to do nothing.” Lily advised, pouring coffee for both of them. “Let Severus deal with this however he sees fit. You getting involved could only make things worse.”

Hermione knew her friend was right, but it still hurt not to be able to intervene. And deep down, she was also afraid that Severus himself wouldn’t want her to get involved.

“You’re right. I’ll just try to… support him.” She forced a smile, then changed the subject to lighten the mood. “So, how was your Christmas?”

“It was fun. I spent a few days at James’s house and met his parents…” Lily replied, trying to contain her excitement.

Hermione’s heart warmed. As a woman, she knew this was an important step.

“Really? And how was it? Tell me everything.”

“Super fun and magical, of course. More than Hogwarts.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

“More? I think love is clouding your judgment.” she said, amused, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

Lily laughed, but quickly hurried to justify herself: “I mean it! At my house, Christmas has always been just another holiday. But there… no. They take it seriously. A huge table, a giant tree, decorations in every corner, and the whole family together.” She took a sip of coffee and continued, animated. “I met a hundred relatives, or more! Everyone was cheerful, friendly…”

Hermione listened attentively, as if eavesdropping on a fairy tale.

“And…?” she prompted with a smile. “How did he introduce you?”

For a moment, she felt like she was back in her own time: sharing secrets with a friend, laughing and sighing like any teenager. The knot in her throat came quickly, but she pushed it down.

“Girlfriend.” Lily replied, her face beaming. “To some, future fiancée.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, surprised.

“My God, Lily! That’s… wonderful? That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Well… I didn’t know I wanted it until I heard him say it.” Lily smiled, dreamy. “Now I’m excited about the idea. Excited about everything we can experience together.”

Hermione swallowed hard. It was impossible not to think about what she knew about the future—James and Lily would die young, leaving all their plans behind. The contrast between her friend’s happiness and the weight of that secret knowledge squeezed her heart.

Noticing the silence, Lily spoke again: “I think I love James. When he’s not trying to prove something to the world, I see the man he can be… and it’s that man I’ve fallen in love with. I know it might seem early, but love isn’t measured by time. It just… happens.”

Hermione found herself reflecting on those words and felt they fit her own situation. Love is inherent to time. With some people, an instant connection is possible, with others a hundred years wouldn't be enough.

“You are a born romantic…” she smiled.

“You are too. Your story with Severus is pretty dramatic: you trying to pull him out of the darkness with your friendship that then turns into something more…”

Hermione laughed at the analogy; there was a good dose of truth in it. She realized Lily was indeed a keen observer.

“Yeah… maybe I am a little. But he’s not exactly the hero of the story…”

“Neither is James,” Lily said, smiling. “That’s the fun of it…”

The two exchanged knowing glances, and for an instant Hermione felt the lightness of that moment, as if she could breathe without the worries of the world.

“But I think you’re right to trust what you feel,” Hermione resumed. “I hope I get invited to the wedding.”

“You’ll definitely be there…” Lily checked her wristwatch. “We need to go… class is about to start.”

The two downed their coffee in a single gulp, grabbed their bags, and headed toward Transfiguration. Hermione cast one last look at the Slytherin table and saw Snape getting up with Mulciber right behind him, like a lurking shadow. She felt a knot in her stomach; she knew the Christmas break was over, and with it, the peace.

POV SNAPE

The last few days with Hermione were… indescribable. For the first time, I felt what it was like to be loved back. The Room of Requirement still guarded our secret: kisses, touches, complicity. She offered me what I never thought I would have: healing. Healing from loneliness, from the wounds I pretended not to feel anymore. With her, I wanted to be better. For her, I believed it might be possible. But Hogwarts isn’t made of secrets. I knew that sooner or later the gossip… and the retaliation… would come.

Entering the Great Hall that morning, I immediately noticed the looks and the snickering. I barely managed to focus on Hermione at the Gryffindor table before Mulciber wedged himself next to me, with Avery glued behind him.

“Looking for your little friend, Severus?” Mulciber asked in a venomous tone. “Or is she more than a friend? I hear you’ve developed a special taste for… less noble company.”

Avery laughed, loud enough to catch the attention of a few more students.

I took a deep breath. I knew they wanted to make me lose control. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“What’s with this obsession with my tastes, Mulciber?” I spoke softly, without even looking at him, while fiddling with my plate. “I’m starting to think you’re the one who’s fallen for me.”

A few nearby students chuckled. Mulciber’s face hardened.

“The one who must be in love is you, to refuse an invitation from the Dark Lord,” he retorted, his voice more heavily laden with poison.

“What you call a refusal, I call a choice.” I pushed my plate away and opened my book calmly, as if they were nothing but flies buzzing in my ear.

It was then that Avery slammed my book shut. The noise echoed through the Slytherin table, drawing curious glances.

“Listen up, Severus.” He leaned in, his eyes cold. “Traitors don’t last long among us.”

He then got up and left, leaving Mulciber behind.

I leaned back against the bench, tired of the charade, but not willing to back down. I looked at Mulciber with contempt.

“Don’t be an idiot, Cassius. You know you don’t want a fight with me.” I stood up, adjusting my robes. “Tell Damian that if he’s going to try to intimidate me again, at least he should pretend to have some courage.”

I walked away before he could retort, my head held high. I wouldn't show fear. Never.

POV HERMIONE

Finally, I would have some peace. Classes were over, and I decided not to have dinner; I was tired of feeling all those eyes on me. Seeing Severus in that situation only increased my discomfort; at least the Gryffindor common room was calmer; now, next to him, it was just the opposite.

Sitting on the couch, I was flipping through the book he had given me, trying to concentrate, but my heart was still racing. That’s when Lupin came in, the door creaking softly.

“Hermione, am I interrupting?” he asked, approaching slowly, his shoulders tense and hands slightly shaky.

“Of course not, Remus. What is it?” I replied, keeping the book open like a shield, trying to sound unconcerned.

He sat down beside me but avoided looking at me directly. He nervously ran his fingers over his legs, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, taking a deep breath every few seconds.

“I don’t want you to misunderstand, but… I heard some things.”

I sighed, carefully closing the book. “Ah, yes… the rumors.”

He looked away, but finally took a deep breath and asked, hesitant: “Is it true that you and Severus are together?”

My heart pounded. “Yes…” I answered, trying to focus on the pages, but I couldn’t.

“But not dating, right? Those are just rumors…” he continued, his voice low, laden with nervousness.

“The rumors are correct. We’re dating.” I looked at him, firmly. “Literally.”

He let out a deep sigh, letting his back fall heavily against the couch, as if he could finally relax. But then his gaze hardened, mixing pain and frustration.

“If I had gotten involved with Death Eaters… would I have had a chance?” he looked at me, hurt, his voice filled with resentment and vulnerability.

I took a deep breath. That had sounded like a criticism, as if I had only gotten involved with Severus to save him. And suddenly, all of Snape’s insinuations about his affection made sense. My heart tightened.

“What!? Don’t be ridiculous.” I said, trying to stay calm, but my voice betrayed a slight tremor. “That’s not a criterion for me. Things just happened. That’s all.”

“And why didn't they happen between us?” he started, but stopped abruptly, swallowing hard. It seemed too painful to say out loud. I had never realized there was this expectation.

“Remus, I’m sorry. I never saw you that way. And with Severus, things…” I sighed. “It wasn’t planned at all. What do you want me to say?”

He looked away and took a deep breath, running a hand over his face; a brief gesture, as if trying to hide how much it affected him.

“Can you think about the consequences of this? He’s involved with You-Know-Who.”

“Of course, I have. He’s not anymore, he guaranteed me that.”

“And you believed him? If he’s only changing for you, what if there’s a fight… won’t he just run back?”

His questions were valid. To Lupin, I had only gotten involved with Snape to pull him out of the darkness. But he didn’t know the truth: I came from the future to change certain things, and I saw an opportunity in Snape.

“Lupin, let’s take this one step at a time, okay?” I tried to explain, controlling the nervousness that was starting to rise. “Initially, I just wanted to be his friend, as I am friends with you all. But things happened and we became more than friends. He knew he’d have to choose between me and Voldemort… and he chose me.”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders tense, and opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him.

“We are building a solid foundation for our relationship. I chose to trust. And I hope you understand that we can still maintain our friendship.”

He looked at me, breathing deeply, almost as if he was processing every word, every gesture.

“I just want to be sure you entered this relationship because of your feelings… and not out of a need to save someone.”

I tried to smile, lightly touching his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles soften for an instant.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. You are a good friend. Thank you for your concern.”

I closed the book with a small sigh, feeling the weight of the conversation. My heart was still heavy, but now there was also a sense of relief. Lupin got up, hesitant, and looked at me one last time before leaving, leaving a heavy and reflective silence in the air.

Severus had occupied my mind and my heart; I couldn’t take him out of there, and maybe I didn’t even want to. But I needed Lupin to know that his friendship was still important, even if our paths had taken different directions.

Later that night, I received a message from Snape asking me to meet him outside the Gryffindor common room. When I stepped out, I found him already waiting, leaning against the wall, his expression as serious as ever.

I couldn’t hide the concern that was consuming me.

“How are you? Are you alright?” I asked, approaching cautiously.

“Yes. I can take care of myself, Hermione.” He smiled briefly, and I felt a momentary relief. Then he hugged me around the waist and kissed me softly on the lips. “And what about you? Did anyone bother you?”

“No… Actually, Lupin came to question me about…”

“Let me guess: and he took the opportunity to declare himself?” he ironized, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, you were right…” I smiled faintly. “But we’ll remain friends…” I murmured, running my hands up his shoulders.

“That’s the worst news of the week,” he replied, serious, though the corner of his mouth betrayed slight amusement. “He won’t give up on you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“No man in his right mind would.” He touched my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

A shiver ran through my body. It was incredible how he made me feel unique, special. Without thinking, I had to return the kiss.

“I missed you…” I murmured against his lips, hearing his almost imperceptible sigh.

“Not more than I did…” he replied when we separated, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “I have to go… Let’s just say Mulciber is still tailing me.”

“Try not to get riled up by them,” I warned, worried.

“I won’t.” He kissed my hand and walked away with silent steps. “I’ll see you tomorrow…”

As I watched him disappear down the corridor, an anxiety mixed with expectation washed over me. I needed to trust that he knew exactly what he was doing, even with the dangers surrounding us.

Chapter Text

That morning, Hermione woke up determined to settle a matter she had been postponing since the start of the term: talking to the Marauders. She wanted to renew their friendship, both for her own sake and for Severus's. He was increasingly isolated in Slytherin, rejected by many, and she didn't want her proximity to him to be damaged by unnecessary provocation. Furthermore, she knew that in the future, they might need to work together against Voldemort, and maintaining alliances was essential.

She took advantage of breakfast, when they were all gathered, and sat down beside them.

"Well, look who’s here," Potter said, with an amused expression. "Did you come to apologize, Granger?"

"Me apologize? For what, exactly?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, keeping her tone firm. She regretted nothing she had done.

"For being a traitor... how about that?" Sirius countered, pouring himself some pumpkin juice with a malicious grin.

"A traitor? Me? When?" Hermione flushed with anger but maintained her composure.

"You defended Snivellus multiple times, and now you’re even dating him…" Potter explained, and Sirius made a face of disgust.

Lupin and Peter merely observed in silence, knowing Hermione wouldn't take any disrespect lying down.

"See? That’s why it’s impossible to be friends with you!" She stood up, gesturing with indignation.

"No, Hermione…" James said, more serious this time. "We were just joking. Sorry."

She took a deep breath and sat back down; she recognized James's effort to try and defuse the situation.

"Right…" she said, still breathing heavily. "I want us to be friends again, but I need something more: a truce with Severus." She spoke quickly, not hiding the urgency in her voice.

"You must be kidding…" Sirius replied, with a cynical smile, while Potter let out a laugh. "He's your boyfriend, not ours."

"Besides, how could you…? He’s involved with ‘You-Know-Who,’ he called Lily a Mudblood." Potter said, his expression serious.

"We can try to forget that," Lupin intervened, firmly, reminding them that they had almost killed Severus the previous year. "We need to focus on what really matters."

Hermione felt the tension ease slightly with Lupin’s intervention. She took another deep breath and began to explain:

"He’s alone in Slytherin now, being harassed by Avery and Mulciber… and he can't get closer to me because he knows you’ll end up fighting. It's not fair."

"Serves him right. Who told him to mess with people he shouldn’t?" Black grumbled, but his tone was more provocative than threatening.

"Merlin… Don’t people have the right to make mistakes anymore?" Hermione exploded, her face turning red. "We're practically at war! It's time for us to unite, to have a common purpose. Don't you realize that?"

They seemed to consider her words, the gravity of the moment starting to sink in.

"Don't tell me he's going to join the Order now, too?" James questioned, with a hint of skepticism.

"If he wants to, maybe someday. But that’s not what matters now. We need to unite against Voldemort. Every person who isn't with him is a victory." Hermione spoke with conviction, trying to convey the seriousness of her words.

They nodded, understanding, though reluctantly.

"Alright, alright…" James said, resigned. "We won't provoke him anymore."

"But don't expect me to smile at him in the corridor," Sirius added, with a half-smile.

"I don't expect that," Hermione replied, smiling back slightly. "I just hope we can act like the adults we're becoming. By the way, Lily told me about an Order meeting… I’d like to participate."

"The meetings always happen, but Dumbledore doesn't want us to participate anymore," James explained, shaking his head.

"He said we need to worry about graduating first, and after that, who knows?" Sirius completed.

"Well, he’s not wrong," Hermione agreed. "I’ve always thought studying was important more than anything. We need to prepare ourselves. Voldemort is growing stronger every day."

She sighed, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. Maybe now… maybe finally they could fight together, and not against each other.

Hermione and Lily were rushing through the corridors after lunch, laughing about trivial things, when Lily suddenly said:

"So, have you thought about what you’re going to get Severus for a present?"

"Present?" Hermione stopped, frowning, trying to search her memory. "What did I miss?"

"His birthday is tomorrow," Lily explained, naturally. "Obviously, he didn’t tell you."

Hermione’s eyes widened.

"He didn't say anything…" she murmured.

"He pretends he doesn't care, but he does. He just likes to act indifferent." Lily shrugged.

Before Hermione could reply, a harsh voice echoed behind them:

"Granger, Granger…" Mulciber, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, a poisonous smile on his face. "Don’t get lost trying to save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

Hermione took a deep breath, determined to ignore him. Lily also walked straight past, muttering:

"Jerk…"

But Mulciber didn't give up. His voice, laden with mockery, cut through the corridor:

"Tell me, Granger… What do your little friends think of your Death Eater fetish?"

She stopped dead. The blood rushed to her face, her hands clenched into fists. He had just crossed every line.

Hermione spun on her heels, crossed the distance in two steps, and before Mulciber could finish his smug smile, her fist landed squarely on his nose.

A dry crack echoed down the corridor. Mulciber stumbled backward, shocked, eyes wide, his nose bleeding.

"You… you bitch…" he tried to stammer, retreating awkwardly.

Hermione ignored the throbbing pain in her fingers and lifted her chin, firm.

Lily remained motionless, her mouth open. Around them, the students who witnessed the scene burst into laughter and applause, especially the Gryffindors.

"You're screwed, Granger!" Mulciber snarled, covering his face with his hands and running toward the Great Hall.

It was at that moment that Severus appeared in the corridor. He was hurrying, having heard the commotion. He managed to squeeze through the students at the exact moment she landed the punch.

He stopped, watched Mulciber flee almost in tears… and couldn’t suppress a brief, satisfied laugh.

My lioness can defend herself, he thought.

Next, the Marauders emerged, roaring with laughter.

"You were amazing!" Sirius said, still chuckling. "Crazy, but amazing. I couldn't believe it when I saw it," he added, mimicking the punch in the air.

"That idiot Mulciber must have wet himself, I bet," James completed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Though I don’t appreciate violence… I have to admit he deserved it," Lupin said, adjusting his backpack strap.

Hermione, still with a throbbing fist, smiled faintly. Proud, yes, but also aware that this could have consequences.

"I didn't think you’d actually do that," Lily commented, still stunned. "But what a beautiful punch! He’ll think twice before messing with us."

Hermione looked at her own red hand, taking a deep breath, when she noticed Severus's presence. He was approaching, his eyes fixed on her.

"I would have done the same," he said directly, ignoring the Marauders. "Are you alright?"

The group immediately fell silent, the air heavy.

"You’re late, Sniv—" James started, but corrected himself when he saw Hermione’s look. "Snape."

"Hermione is a Gryffindor; she knows perfectly well how to handle herself," Sirius sneered.

Before the barbs could escalate into a fight, Lily cut through the tension:

"Enough! Let’s go to class." She pushed James and Sirius by the arm. Reluctantly, they moved away, grumbling and making faces.

Hermione finally turned her attention back to Severus.

"I’m fine. Mulciber… not so much."

Severus took her hand in his, examining it carefully.

"It doesn't look like anything is broken. Good. Otherwise, he would pay dearly for it."

"Pay for me hurting my hand on his nose?" Hermione smiled faintly.

"Of course. If he wasn't an idiot, you wouldn’t have needed to defend yourself," he replied, bringing her hand to his lips. "I wish I had gotten here sooner."

"Oh, I can manage on my own," she feigned indignation, narrowing her eyes. "You better watch out… in case you annoy me."

His eyes gleamed dangerously.

"I wouldn't dare," he murmured, very low. "But I confess I’d love to see more of that… fierce side of yours."

Heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks. He could disarm her even in the most improbable moments. Impulsively, she let slip:

"If you know how to provoke the right stimuli… who knows."

This time, he was the one who was disconcerted. But the tension between the two did not go unnoticed: several students were still watching from a distance, laughing and whispering.

Severus noticed, his scowl immediately returning.

"Bunch of busybodies!" he snarled, glaring at the group. "What are you looking at?"

And, without allowing for anything else, he pulled Hermione by the arm and dragged her toward the classroom.

Later, Hermione was summoned to the Headmaster’s office. A knot of anxiety formed in her stomach; her recent actions certainly wouldn't go unnoticed.

She approached the door, said the password, and climbed the stairs. The Headmaster was sitting at his desk, absorbed in a book, but immediately raised his eyes when he saw her enter.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," Hermione said, approaching.

"Miss Granger, please sit down," he gestured, and Hermione settled into a chair. "Before anything else, is your left hand alright?"

She wasn’t surprised; she knew him well enough to know he always knew everything.

"Yes, it’s fine," she replied, discreetly opening and closing her hand to test the pain.

"Let’s just say I heard your punch was more effective than twenty spells," Dumbledore commented over his half-moon spectacles.

"I apologize, sir. I don't usually lose control."

"I will not delve into whether Mr. Mulciber deserved it or not," he said calmly, "I just want you to realize that there is a fine line between self-defense and letting anger guide your actions."

Hermione remained silent, her eyes downcast, acknowledging the truth in those words.

He placed his hands on the desk and looked intently at her.

"Another piece of news that has been circulating, including among the faculty, is your closeness to Mr. Snape." A slight smile played at the corners of his lips, but his gaze was serious.

"It wasn't planned…" Hermione said. "I created opportunities for us to get closer, but the rest… was a consequence."

"Curious… You seem to believe in the best of Severus more than he does himself." He leaned back in his chair.

The shiver she felt when remembering the future reminded her that Snape would still kill Dumbledore years later.

"I need to believe in him," she continued. "I do this because I know the future and I know what could happen if I did nothing."

"You know you cannot save everyone," Dumbledore mused, "but every time you choose to fight for someone, you alter paths. Are you sure you are ready for the burdens of these changes?"

"I try to live one day at a time," Hermione confessed. "The pressure is almost unbearable, but I am willing to do whatever is possible, even if that means… waiting."

Dumbledore smiled faintly, picking up a bowl of sherbet lemons from the desk and offering her one.

"Sometimes, changing the future starts with a simple gesture… extending a hand… or clenching it into a fist. Would you care for a Lemon Drop?"

"No, thank you." Hermione remembered something important. "Headmaster, about the Order… the Marauders told me you wouldn’t let them participate until graduation."

"The Order will have its moment, but not yet," he said, leaning over the desk. "I suppose you already know what it is about."

"Yes… in my final year, I was a member in the future. I want to continue helping now."

"We know you are already aware of what is to come," he said calmly, "but you cannot run into the storm before the lightning strikes the ground."

She sighed, wanting to say more, but knew he had heard enough.

"You carry a burden that is not fair for your age, Hermione. But I cannot fail to recognize your sincere concern. The Order will have its time. For now, stay steadfast… and prudent."

"Yes, sir…"

"Now, my dear," Dumbledore continued, rising slightly from his chair as if concluding the conversation, "it is time to rest. Tomorrow is Saturday… and an important date."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Severus's birthday," he explained, as if commenting on something simple, but there was a suggestive twinkle in his eyes. "A complicated young man, it is true… yet, a good boy."

Hermione blushed, unsure whether to smile or look away.

Dumbledore merely inclined his head and completed: "Even those who hide their feelings the most appreciate being remembered, Hermione. Good night."

It wouldn't be a good night. Hermione had a lot to think about.

Chapter Text

POV HERMIONE

Nights when I could actually sleep were rare. During the day, I would talk to everyone, smile, and pretend I was fine, but as soon as I entered the dormitory, I seemed to be dragged into a pit of melancholy and self-torture. I thought about everything I had left behind, everything I had lived… and nostalgia consumed me, overflowing through my eyes. Little by little, I managed to stabilize myself, but it still hurt. It was difficult to forget eighteen years of a happy life just to start another.

However, with each passing day, my heart was putting down roots here. Perhaps, in the not-too-distant future, I could be completely happy, without the constant expectation of leaving. And I confess: my attachment was growing especially for Severus. The passion I felt for him could, with time, transform into something deeper. I never imagined it would surface so soon; I had always been focused on my studies and my friendships. Love seemed distant, something from the romance novels I rarely read. But after traveling back in time, I realized it could challenge me in ways I never could have imagined. It wasn't just his intelligence or his deep voice… there was a subtle magnetism, a mystery that drew me in without me being able to define it.

The mission still weighed heavily on my shoulders. I knew so many things about the future, about Voldemort, that could, theoretically, allow me to intervene, save people… even prevent deaths. But every time I thought about acting, reality imposed itself: altering the course of events would be too risky. Any significant change could trigger unpredictable effects, perhaps even worse ones. Changing Harry’s parents’ fate, trying to prevent deaths, or searching for Horcruxes prematurely? That would be too much interference. Even with all the knowledge of the future, not knowing exactly how each action would reverberate could jeopardize everything. The war couldn't be ‘solved’ with shortcuts; attempting to do so would be a catastrophic risk.

That’s why I was increasingly discarding those options. My priority had to be to act with caution and patience, attempting small modifications only when absolutely necessary. Sometimes, all we could do was wait and observe.

I sighed resignedly and tried to focus on what I wanted and what I could do right now: being with Severus, feeling that we were together, was enough to lessen some of my anxiety. It would be a lie to say I wasn't happy with him. Despite all the problems, I was allowing myself to be happy.

It was Saturday, his birthday. I had already planned what to do, but first… Coffee. The Hall wasn't crowded. I spotted Lily and Remus chatting and sat down with them.

“You’re only saying that because you already have a date…” Lupin was telling Lily. “Oh, good morning, Hermione!”

“Morning, Mione!” Lily said, turning back to Remus. “You don’t have a date because you don’t want one. I already told you about Eliza Fawley, from Hufflepuff, who’s interested in you…” she bit into her toast.

“Good morning! What are you talking about?” I asked, pouring coffee for myself and them.

“Valentine’s Day… there was an announcement about a Hogsmeade trip,” Lupin explained, stirring his porridge without much enthusiasm.

“He doesn’t have a date just because he thinks he has to be madly in love to go out with someone,” Lily said, shaking her head.

“I just think I need to at least like the girl a little…” Remus defended himself.

“But would it be a crime to go to Hogsmeade alone on Valentine’s Day?” I shrugged. “It’s just a date.”

They looked at me as if I had committed a serious crime.

“It’s shameful to be alone, especially if there’s a trip. Everyone will be in couples, holding hands, exchanging flowers, chocolates…” Lily explained.

“And I’ll be the only one alone!” Remus completed, looking like a victim. “Or a third wheel.”

“Peter will keep you company; I’m sure he hasn’t found anyone,” I joked, assuming it was true.

Lily put her hand over her mouth, trying to control her laughter. It was then that I noticed Severus, sitting on the other side of the hall. He wasn't talking, just observing. I smiled discreetly, and he responded with a barely perceptible half-smile. My friends noticed and followed my gaze.

“You don’t care about the date because you won’t be alone,” Lupin said, turning his attention back to me. “Even Peter already has a date.”

“As if Severus would care about Valentine’s Day,” I murmured, trying not to blush.

“He certainly must,” Lily said. “It’s his first year dating.”

I felt my face flush. It was mine too.

“Please, focus on helping me. Even Snape has a date,” Remus said, trying to be helpful.

“If you were less demanding…” Lily stirred her porridge.

“It’s true, Remus. You say you don’t know the girl, but have you given her a chance?” I asked, looking at him. Lily made an alarming gesture with her hand, agreeing with me.

Remus lowered his eyes, as if recognizing I was right. I just hope his reluctance to get involved with other girls isn’t because of what he told me…

“You need to allow yourself to. There are lots of nice girls in the world,” I encouraged. Remus looked away, seeming to consider it.

“Exactly!” Lily teased. “Just because the two coolest girls in the world you know are taken doesn't mean there aren't others out there who are single.”

We laughed together, and for an instant, I felt the pressure lift.

“Alright… Talk to Eliza Fawley for me,” Remus said, resigned.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, Severus continued to watch, silent. I knew that, despite everything, he was attentive to my every move. And I, distracted with my friends, couldn't help but smile internally, knowing he was there, even if in silence, looking out for me in his own way.

POV HERMIONE

Later, after dinner, I arranged to meet Severus in the Room of Requirement. It was common for us to do this on weekends, so he didn’t find my invitation strange.

Before heading there, I stopped by the kitchens and asked the Elves a big favor: to help me prepare a birthday cake. They were reluctant to accept any payment, but I insisted on leaving some coins as a thank you. It was the least I could do for creatures who already did so much and received so little. For a moment, I thought about how that could be the beginning of S.P.E.W. if I didn't have such a massive mission on my shoulders.

Carrying the cake, I headed to the Room of Requirement. It still maintained the same aesthetic as New Year’s Eve: a lit fireplace, scattered cushions, a cozy warmth that contrasted with the cold surrounding the castle. I sat down on the rug in front of the fire, waiting. The flame crackled at intervals, filling the silence in an almost comforting way. A few minutes later, he walked in. The sight of him made my heart race uncontrollably: black trousers similar to his uniform, a dark sweater, and a white dress shirt with collar and cuffs exposed underneath. So sober, so… him.

Severus stopped as soon as he saw the cake. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, a reaction too rare to go unnoticed.

“How did you find out?” he asked, approaching and sitting down opposite me, the cake between us.

I crossed my arms, feigning indignation. “I have my ways. But I would have preferred you to tell me…”

He took a deep breath, his expression returning to its usual state. “I’m not much for celebrations. I prefer to live it like a normal day.”

I shook my head, firm. “Not with me. We will always celebrate.”

I clapped my hands and started an improvised “Happy Birthday” song. He stared at me intently, trying to maintain his scowl, but I noticed the mask slowly breaking. His dark eyes softened, his lips trembled in an almost-smile, and in the final seconds of the song, he clapped too, surrendering to the mood.

“Make a wish.” I pointed to the snake-shaped candle, which stood tall on the light-green cake with the inscription: “Happy Birthday, Severus!”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a gesture that was already a part of him. “Honestly, do you think I’m some kind of child, Granger?”

I smiled faintly. “Only children have wishes? You don’t have any?”

For an instant, he looked at me so intensely that I felt my face warm. Then he leaned in and blew out the candle. When the flame went out, a wry smile appeared.

“I just remembered a very… interesting one.”

My heart pounded, and curiosity consumed me. I leaned in and gave him a brief, tender kiss. “I hope it comes true. Happy birthday, Severus.”

He looked at me in a way that almost disarmed my defenses. “Thank you.” he replied softly, watching me cut the cake. “It’s only happy because you’re here. I want this to be the first of many.”

That sentence hit me hard. A knot formed in my throat. I truly was changing his life. But along with the warmth of happiness came the tightening grip of fear: what if, in the end, I had to leave him? What if he ended up worse off than before he met me?

I pushed the thought away like shoving a shadow.

“I want that too,” I confessed, feeling that it wasn’t a lie. I handed him a plate with a generous slice of cake. “Eat it all, please. I see you go days without touching your meals.”

He took a bite, eating slowly. “You distract me too much… I even forget to eat.” He paused, then added: “Speaking of which, you’ve been very close to the dimwits again. Did you make up?”

I rolled my eyes, but kept my cool. “Don’t talk about them like that. But yes, we’re back on good terms. Only because they promised not to mess with you.”

His expression changed immediately.

“And who exactly gave you permission to act on my behalf?”

I lifted my chin, firm. “Well, I don’t need your permission. I did what I thought was right. I’m not going to live in the middle of a war.”

He stared at me, scowling. I knew I wouldn’t back down.

“So you didn’t think you should talk to me first?” His voice was low, but filled with wounded pride. “Those idiots will think I’m scared. That I need to hide behind your skirts.”

I sighed. “No, I didn’t think so. Mostly because you’d have exactly this ridiculous reaction. And why do you care what they think?”

His eyes narrowed, as if my question was a direct hit.

“Frankly, Hermione. Is all this because you can’t stand to be away from them?” He pushed his plate aside.

“Are you seriously going to react worse than they did?” I retorted, incredulous. “I did this for us! So we can be closer without misunderstandings. Besides, yes, I like them. They are my friends. And if you want to be with me, you better know that I will always take actions for the sake of us both, even if you don't agree.”

My eyes stung, but I kept my chin held high.

He stared at me seriously, motionless as a statue. But slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His scowl softened.

“Know that this is not over.” he said, his voice husky. “We have very different ideas of what is good for us… but I don’t want to remember my first good birthday with this… mood.”

Before I could reply, he leaned in and kissed me. It was slow at first, as if testing my boundaries. I responded, granting space for his tongue, and soon we found ourselves in a rhythm that felt natural. Deep kisses, charged with everything we didn't say in words. Severus slid his lips down to my neck, spreading warm kisses that sent shivers through me. A wave of heat rushed through my body, and for a moment nothing existed but that touch. Then, he returned to my lips, ending the moment with a soft peck.

He pulled me closer, lying back on the cushions. I settled into his arms, spooning, feeling his chin rest lightly on my head. The rhythm of his breathing mingled with mine, and for a few seconds, everything felt simple.

“Did you hear about the Hogsmeade trip?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“For Valentine’s Day?” I confirmed, yawning. “Yes, we were talking about it this morning. Lily, Remus, and I.”

“I saw.” His voice carried curiosity. “They seemed… worried.”

I smiled. “Remus doesn’t have a date; we were helping him, giving advice.”

I felt his arm tighten around my waist. An almost muffled laugh escaped his throat.

“Serves him right… I mean, what a shame.” he quipped.

I chuckled softly. “Don’t be mean… I hope he finds someone.”

The silence that followed was almost palpable, and I felt my heart quicken before I asked: “We’re going together, right?”

He let out a breath, as if easing a weight.

“Yes, Hermione. That’s what I want.” he replied, kissing the top of my head. “Is there any specific place you want to go?”

I yawned again, already close to sleep. “Well… it’s our first trip together… we can go to lots of places. Honeydukes, Zonko’s…” My eyes were already closing. “Three Broomsticks… Butterbeer…”

And then, nothing more. Sleep took me, right there, in his arms.

POV SNAPE

The last few days had been the best in years, and yet the atmosphere in the Slytherin common room remained heavy. Since Hermione punched Mulciber, he had disappeared from my sight, but I wasn't fooled: absence didn't mean surrender. The looks continued, the poisonous comments too. He might be waiting for the right moment to retaliate. Let him try against me, not against her. The simple thought of seeing her caught in those mediocre disputes drove me mad.

Every time I crossed the common room, I felt the eyes burning into the back of my neck, as if they expected me to fall from grace at any moment. And in a way, I already had. Only I didn't care as much as before. Hermione became a kind of involuntary shield, not because she defended me, but because being with her made me forget for a few moments that I still belonged to that place.

And yet, I couldn't help but admire her gesture. It was dangerous, yes, but not wrong. There were feelings that only a punch could translate, and I knew that well. Hermione showed she doesn't back down, that she has a fire of her own, and it was disturbingly good to discover that side of her.

Slowly, we are discovering each other, and almost without realizing it, I'm giving ground, opening cracks in the walls I built throughout my life. It's unsettling how much she manages to breach my defenses with simple gestures. She doesn't retreat when I show my darker side, nor is she intimidated by my silence. At times, I had the feeling that she saw something in me that even I didn't, and that, while frightening me, drew me even closer to her.

It was hard to trust, but she had the gift of undermining my resistance. She found out about my birthday, planned something, even when I hid the date. And I had...liked it. She surprised me, pleased me, and knew me better than I knew myself. But she was also obstinate, convinced. Sometimes our ideas clashed, which irritated me a little, but deep down, it made everything more interesting. What I felt for her grew in intensity, like a flame I couldn't and didn't want to extinguish. I was comfortable with it… until that night.

In the Room of Requirement, I pulled her close to lie down side by side, just to prolong the conversation. But soon her eyes closed, exhausted. I didn't mind; the truth is, it was comforting to have her so near. I fell asleep shortly after, surrendered to a rare moment of peace.

Until I woke up.

Restless movements, anxious murmurs. I saw her features contorted, almost tearful. I lifted myself slightly to observe her better, feeling the tension grow with every second. And then I heard it.

“Harry…” the name escaped her lips in an afflicted whisper. “No… don’t go… Harry!” she repeated, punctuated by anguish.

The name echoed between her lips like a plea; Harry. With each repetition, it was as if she plunged an invisible knife into my chest. I, who dared to believe I had conquered some space in her heart, suddenly found myself reduced to nothing. An intruder. A substitute. Everything we built felt fragile, fleeting. An illusion.

I felt exasperated, speechless. She was calling for another, pleading for him as if her world would collapse without his presence. Harry. The name echoed in my mind like a cursed spell. Who was he? A past love? A current one? Someone she left behind and, apparently, didn't really let go of? Was it too much to expect that, for the first time in my life, I would have someone's heart all to myself? What naiveté, Severus. You were never anyone's first. You never will be. Am I condemned to always fight for scraps of affection, carrying insecurities like a second skin?

I thought about waking her up, demanding an immediate explanation. For a moment, I even thought about using Legilimency. A single glance, a fissure in her mind, and I would have the answer that now tormented me. But what would that say about me? That I trust her so little that I need to invade what should be her most intimate space? No… not yet. I still wanted to believe her. And deep down, I didn't know if I could endure hearing her confession or, worse, a pitying lie. Maybe we were moving too fast. Maybe Hermione wasn't as sincere as she seemed… Maybe I was giving too much of myself.

Lost in torment, I didn't even notice when the murmurs ceased. Hermione, serene again, sought me out in her sleep. She snuggled against me with a cruel naturalness, as if it were my name she had murmured in her dream. And for an instant, I almost allowed myself to believe it. But the doubt was already ingrained in me, and the embrace that should have warmed me only reinforced the chill consuming me inside.

POV HERMIONE

I sat up on the soft rug in the room, feeling the morning light spread across the space. There was something comforting about that gentle warmth, and for a moment I felt light, as if nothing could shake the start of this day. But then I noticed the empty space beside me. Severus wasn't there. A strange discomfort arose, small, almost imperceptible, as if the room had lost a bit of its balance. It was odd, because we always woke up together on weekends.

Had he left early to escape someone? Or was it just the need to be alone, to deal with his own thoughts? My mind searched for answers but only found light hypotheses, without certainty. A small knot of longing appeared, but not enough to ruin the day; only something felt out of place, subtly shifted.

I sighed, letting the feeling pass, convincing myself that everything was fine, that he would show up soon, and that this strangeness was just a minor detail. Still, his absence left a hint of uneasiness that I couldn't ignore.