Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13638948.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Severus_Snape, James_Potter/Lily_Evans_Potter
  Character:
      Hermione_Granger, Severus_Snape, James_Potter, Sirius_Black, Lily_Evans
      Potter, Remus_Lupin, Peter_Pettigrew, Rabastan_Lestrange, Albus
      Dumbledore
  Additional Tags:
      Time_Travel, Age_Regression/De-Aging, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Explicit
      Language, Dark, Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Death
      Eaters
  Collections:
      The_Death_Eater_Express
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-11 Updated: 2018-03-23 Chapters: 5/? Words: 18665
****** Of Ticking Clocks & Beating Hearts ******
by Kittenshift17
Summary
     Hermione is approached with a time-travel safeguard to right the
     wrongs of the wars. Sent back in time to the first year of the
     Marauders schooling, Hermione is given a De-Aging potion to begin
     Hogwarts over again only this time she must get herself sorted into
     Slytherin to befriend Snape and some other 'at-risk' students. Can
     she save Snape without falling for him?
***** Formulating a Plan *****
                      Of Ticking Clocks & Beating Hearts
                         Chapter 1: Formulating a Plan
===============================================================================
                                        
"Excuse me?" a soft voice asked of Hermione Granger, breaking the silence of
the library. Hermione looked up, peering at the young girl standing in front of
her in surprise. She was maybe a first year student and looked terrified to be
addressing a sixth year student.
"Can I help you?" Hermione asked, pasting a smile on her face and pretending
that the interruption wasn't an inconvenience.
"Erm… are you Hermione Granger?" the little Hufflepuff girl asked her, her
cheeks blooming a becoming pink with her nervousness.
"Yes, I am," Hermione confirmed, frowning a little now wondering what the
little girl possibly wanted.
The girl's fearful face smoothed into an expression of relief.
"Oh good. I've been looking for you. Professor Dumbledore asked me to deliver
this to you when I was on my way out of the Great Hall after lunch. I asked all
my friends and they all knew who you were but we didn't know where to find you.
Eventually a fourth year boy overheard me asking everyone where I could find
you and he told me that you're usually in the library."
"Ok. Erm… well thank you," Hermione said, frowning as she took the rolled up
scroll of parchment from the girl.
"That's ok. I'm sorry it took me so long. And I think Professor Dumbledore said
it was rather urgent, so maybe you might want to go and see him now…." The girl
said, "Well…. Goodbye."
With that she skipped away and Hermione could tell the little thing was pleased
to have successfully completed her task. Shaking her head fondly as she
remembered her own time as a first year, Hermione unfurled the scroll of
parchment, wondering what Dumbledore wanted.
Dear Miss Granger,
I hope this finds you well. Please report to my office as a matter of some
urgency at your earliest convenience. Be aware that this meeting may take up a
rather large amount of your evening and prepare for this before arriving.
Sincerely,
Professor Albus Dumbledore.
P.S. I am particularly fond of sugar mice.
Hermione stared at the note of summons for a moment before sighing as she
glanced back at the Defence Against the Dark Arts essay she had been working on
for Snape that was due tomorrow.
There was no way she was going to get it finished in time. Not if she was
expected to spend any great amount of time with Dumbledore. What was wrong with
the greasy git anyway? Who in their right mind would set a two thousand word
essay on Dementors and their effectiveness as the guards of Azkaban Prison due
one day after issue? Hermione knew she was one of the only students in the year
likely to be able to submit anything of worth, and yet Snape insisted, even
after she had protested, that there would be no extension on the time allowed.
Glaring at the half-written essay, Hermione waved her wand to pack up her
belongings and carried the books she intended to check out over to the pinched
librarian.
What in Merlin's beard could Dumbledore want with her that would take a while
anyway?
Grumbling under her breath, Hermione stuffed the books into her bag before
Banishing all of the belongings to her bed in the sixth year Gryffindor
dormitory. She strode quickly through the halls, rolling her eyes when she
strode past Lavender Brown giggling with Parvati about something. When she
reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office Hermione gave the password and
watched the gargoyle spring aside to reveal the staircase that led to the
headmaster's private office and quarters.
She knocked when she reached the door and waited until she heard a call for her
to enter before she opened the heavy door and strode into the office.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione called, seeing no movement in the office aside
from Fawkes who trilled a greeting at her from his perch, "Hello Fawkes, is
Professor Dumbledore in?"
The phoenix blinked at her and a moment later Hermione heard the soft voice of
the Headmaster.
"Good Evening Miss Granger," he greeted her warmly.
"Hello Professor. You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, I did. How are you?"
"Sir?" Hermione asked, taken aback.
"I am enquiring after your health my dear. It is the polite way to begin a
discussion, and I have much I wish to speak to you about this night."
Dumbledore replied, smiling gently as he slipped into his high backed chair
behind his desk.
Blushing Hermione nodded, "I'm well, sir. And you?"
"Troubled, I'm afraid," he told her, waving a hand at her to have a seat while
he settled himself into the chair behind his desk, "Would you like a spot of
tea?"
"Erm… if it's not too much trouble Professor," Hermione said to be polite. She
watched in fascination as the man waved his wand and a tea tray with cups,
saucers and all the other things needed for tea levitated over, the ingredients
and utensils taking care of their own brewing and pouring. When Hermione looked
back at the headmaster she found him watching her over her half-moon
spectacles.
"Your studies are going well I trust?" he asked conversationally, sensing her
discomfort.
"Yes, sir," Hermione confirmed.
"And I trust that Mr Potter has been keeping you informed on the goings on
within my meetings with him?"
"He has, sir," she nodded.
"You are also aware of the work of the Order of the Phoenix and the dealings
with Lord Voldemort?"
"To some extent, sir," Hermione replied, shifting in her seat, "Is everything
alright, Professor? You haven't called me here to tell me that something's
happened to my parents or anything, have you?"
"No my dear, as far as I am aware your parents are quite well," He smiled
softly, reassuring her that they must be fine.
"Then if you don't mind my asking, sir, what is it you wanted to discuss with
me?" Hermione said, "I don't mean to be rude or blunt, but I've an essay I need
to finish for Professor Snape that is due tomorrow and I've barley just begun
it."
"It seems unlike you to leave things until the last minute," he commented.
"He only set it in class this afternoon, sir," Hermione explained, "A two
thousand word essay on the effectiveness of Dementors as the guards of Azkaban
Prison. It's due by the beginning class tomorrow."
Professor Dumbledore frowned at that.
"That seems an unreasonably short amount of time to complete such a task."
"I suggested that to him sir, but he just snapped at me and took five points
from me for back-talking him," Hermione explained.
"I will perhaps have a word to him. That's much too short a time for anything
of worth from any but the absolute best students…. He has never been an easy
man to deal with, but this is preposterous," Dumbledore mused and Hermione
blushed to hear a teacher speaking ill of another teacher.
"It is actually Severus that I wanted to speak to you about Miss Granger,"
Dumbledore continued, "I trust you are aware that Severus is a spy for the
Order, working to gather information and lay false trails for Tom Riddle
regarding Harry and the movements of the Order?"
Hermione nodded.
"What Harry will not have told you as he is unaware of it, is that it was
Severus who overheard the Prophecy that exists between Harry Potter and Tom
Riddle and passed that information on to Voldemort before he joined our side
many years ago."
Hermione opened her mouth in surprise, knowing exactly why Dumbledore had kept
that particular nugget of information to himself. If Harry were to ever learn
that it was because of Snape that Voldemort had begun hunting his parents in
the first place Hermione wouldn't be at all surprised if Harry killed the man.
"A very unfortunate turn of events, one that Severus tried to rectify and
caused his change in allegiance when he realised he had inadvertently doomed
James and Lily Potter, causing their needless deaths, among the many others
that were lost during the First War…."
Dumbledore was quiet for a while after that and Hermione picked up the tea cup
that had drifted over to rest on the desk in front of her in order to have
something to do, sensing that Professor Dumbledore was trying to gather his
thoughts and meant to continue. And that he didn't want to hear any comment on
Hermione's feelings about Snape for what he had done so far in the past.
"More than once these past thirty years there have been moments when I think to
myself, 'if only there was some way we could do it again and do it
differently'…" Hermione lifted her eyes to stare at Dumbledore and wondered
about the twinkle in those blue depths.
"It does not do to dwell on 'if onlys', Sir" Hermione murmured softly, frowning
at the words of the Headmaster.
"Quite so, Miss Granger, for usually there is little that can be done to change
the cast of the die once they are thrown…" he mused.
Hermione sipped her tea, wondering what any of this had to do with her.
"Do you recall your use of the Time-Turner during your third year Miss
Granger?" he asked suddenly.
"Of course, sir. I used it to attend the many classes I was taking and to save
Sirius and Buckbeak from being wrongly executed," Hermione replied immediately.
"Indeed," He murmured, "You recall all the rules that surrounded you being
given permission to use a time-tuner, do you not?"
"I do. No using it to change anything more than twenty-four hours in the past,
no using it to wreak havoc where there does not need to be any, and do not
allow yourself to be seen."
Dumbledore nodded.
"Miss Granger, there are a great many things I must share with you this night,
things you must share with no one else. Do you understand?"
"Yes Professor," Hermione said, frowning now at the higglty-pigglty mash-up of
his train of thought and the way he kept hopping between topics.
"Very good…. the first thing I must share with you, is that I am going to die
before the year is out."
Hermione stared, silently shaking her head in denial.
"It is true my dear," he said ruefully, lifting his hand and displaying a
nasty, withered looking appendage, "A nasty curse I encountered that was
designed to kill quickly upon contact. It has been contained, but it is slowly
killing me. In any case, were it not true, I would still die."
"But Professor you're our best hope against Voldemort," Hermione protested.
"No my dear, Harry is our best and only hope…. Harry, and perhaps you."
"Sir?"
"Unfortunately I cannot share everything with you. What I brought you here to
discuss Miss Granger, is the upcoming war. You know of the Horcruxes created by
Voldemort, and I suspect you know that Harry will be in need of your help next
year when he searches for them in the wake of my death. I hope he will be
successful in getting all of them, however there is still the prophecy to
contend with."
Dumbledore paused and glanced at Hermione as though to make certain she was
following his train of thought.
"There is a very real chance that Harry will soon face Lord Voldemort on the
Battlefield, and that when he does, he may die," Dumbledore announced, "And
should Harry fall, all hope will be lost to the darkness, for no one else will
be able to ever kill Tom Riddle. That my dear, is where I am hoping you will
come in."
"Sir?" Hermione asked, completely confused and somewhat distressed by the idea
of Harry dying and Voldemort winning.
"A back-up plan, if you will…," Dumbledore began, "I want to discuss with you
the possibility of sending you back in time in the event that we lose the war
Miss Granger."
"I don't understand," Hermione said, completely bewildered by what he was
trying to tell her.
"You are one of the very few witches in the world to have ever experimented
with a time-turner Miss Granger. As a last resort, should we lose the war, I
would like to have in place a plan to rectify the situation. And while I
thought about that idea, I kept coming back to my original wish…. If only there
was some way to go back and fix things."
"But Sir, there is so much to fix," Hermione said. Dumbledore nodded.
"I have found a way to achieve my wish Miss Granger," He confided, leaning
forward in the manner of one sharing a juicy secret, "I have in my possession a
device that would allow me to send a single person back in time by a maximum of
thirty years. I have no guarantee that you would survive the journey, however I
know it is in fact possible to send living things back so far and have them
live, as I tested it by sending back several Nifflers and leaving myself a note
from thirty years in the past that the creature was sent from this time.
Anything more than thirty years is unachievable unfortunately."
"Sir what are you saying?"
"I'm saying Miss Granger that should Harry fail, I have a mission for you in
order to rewrite history," Dumbledore told her, "I'm saying I have found a way
that we can keep all this from ever coming into being. It is a radical and
drastic measure, but a necessary one I believe."
"And what would my task be going back that far?" Hermione asked, trying to
grasp the situation.
"My plan would be to send you back to the first year Severus and many others
that you know of -Remus and Sirius and James and Lily- arrived at Hogwarts. My
plan would be to give you a De-Aging potion upon arrival and have you attend
Hogwarts again as a student in their year. Your task would be to get yourself
wilfully Sorted into Slytherin house, where you would befriend Severus Snape
and several other students, a list of whose names I will give you shortly. Your
task would be to attempt to sway them from the Dark Arts and from being such
easy prey for Voldemort."
"How would I do that, sir?" Hermione asked, baffled now and wondering if
Dumbledore had been drinking or perhaps spent too long in a small room
breathing in the smoke, spores or essences of well-known illicit herbs.
"Many of these students, namely Severus, were ripe for the plucking by
Voldemort and easily swayed to the Dark cause. They came from broken homes and
unhappy backgrounds, many had no true friends in life and disturbing family
backgrounds, so when they encountered Tom -who can be incredibly charming- they
were easily swayed with a few kind words and the promise of power, of belonging
to something, of creating a better world where those who believed themselves
downtrodden and unappreciated would be popular and loved."
"You want to send me back in time thirty years to save some misfits?" Hermione
asked incredulously, "Not to… I don't know, stop all the horrors from befalling
people like Harry's parents or the Longbottoms, but to befriend people like
Snape?"
Dumbledore watched her for a moment, "Well from right now it would be twenty-
six years, but yes. However, you are not yet seeing the entire picture Miss
Granger. Befriending people who turn to a monster because they have no one else
could mean the difference between winning and losing, not just the second and
upcoming war, but the first war. It could mean that Voldemort would be defeated
many years ago and there would be no more death or fear any more. You would
pass on vital information to the past me, information that would allow myself
and many other members of the Order of the Phoenix advantages and a way in
which to defeat Voldemort. I would know of the Horcruxes and the location of
many of them. I would know that in order for him to be defeated we must find
and destroy these Horcruxes. I would know to hide the Potters and the
Longbottoms, to make sure the prophecy could never come into play. I would know
to be Secret Keeper myself, rather than allowing James, Lily and Sirius to put
trust in Peter Pettigrew."
He paused to take a breath and Hermione wondered if she had ever seen the
headmaster so animated.
"Don't you see Miss Granger? We would be able to prevent such awful things. We
would be forewarned."
As understanding finally dawned on Hermione she gasped, her eyes going wide.
"Professor…." She began, her mind racing ahead, "Why would you want to wait
until this war is lost to do this?"
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"Well, if so much could be changed; could be fixed; then why wait until we
really have gone to hell in a hand-basket? Why not send me now? Today?"
"Miss Granger you don't understand. I could very well send you today, but you
would be years and years in the past. Everyone you know and love would not be
the same, many would not yet even exist. You would be giving up everything. I
meant to send you should the war be lost only as a last resort as many, if not
all of the people you love might very well be dead or dying by then. To send
you now, you would have to wilfully and knowingly give up your friendships,
your family and life as you know it."
Hermione stared at him as she thought about that, wondering again at the
twinkle in his eyes. Could she do it? Could she give up everything? Her friends
and family, everything she loved; everything she held dear, would be gone.
There would be no Harry or Ron or Ginny, no parents to write to when she was
sad, no one to call friend and to depend on in any way. She would be utterly
alone but for Dumbledore.
On the other hand, the things she could achieve…. James and Lily could survive
to raise Harry. Sirius would never go to Azkaban or die in the Department of
Mysteries. Remus wouldn't be left alone and friendless in a world prejudiced
against him for his condition. Neville's parents would never be tortured by
Bellatrix LeStrange… so many other countless deaths, both magical and muggle,
would never happen if she could influence the right people. Dumbledore and the
first Order of the Phoenix could battle against Voldemort, forewarned of his
plans and the people he would target.
"But it would be worth it, sir," Hermione whispered finally, "It would be hard
and confusing, stressful even. But think of the changes we could make….. I am
no one all that important Professor; just a muggle-born witch who became
friends with an important and famous wizard by chance. No one would know me so
there would be no cause for concern of ever running into myself, and even if I
did when I was born and came to Hogwarts, I would not know myself, so there
would no risk of me going mad, and though I would miss being with Harry and Ron
and Ginny, and the Weasley's and my parents….. Professor, think of how much
better I could make everything for them. For Harry and Neville…. They could
have real parents who could love them and take care of them. The Weasley's
would be happy and healthy and would always stay that way."
"Do not be so quick to throw everything you hold dear away for the Greater
Good, Miss Granger," Dumbledore cautioned her, "The price may be higher than
you think. I myself once believed that sacrifices must be made for the greater
good, and I paid the price."
Hermione deliberated for a moment.
"Would you do it, Sir?" she finally asked, "If you were me, would you go back
as soon as possible to change things."
"That is not a fair way for you to judge the decision Miss Granger. I am an old
man, one who has lived a long and fulfilling life. You are young, you have
friends and loved ones whom you would always remember and would compare to the
same people upon seeing them in the past. Were it me, yes I would. But you are
not me. The decision must entirely be yours. I am happy to wait until after
this war plays out before even considering sending you back, if that is what
you choose…"
"My happiness is not worth more than the lives I could save and the happiness I
could bring to others Professor," Hermione told him, her mind racing, "I will
do it. Today. Is that possible?"
"There are things that we must prepare first Miss Granger, such as a collection
of my own thoughts and memories and knowledge that I must extract and conceal
within you, to pass onto the past me. You must also prepare, for yours will be
a long and lonely task. You will remember everything you know of this life.
Even when given a De-Aging Potion and returned to the age of eleven or perhaps
twelve, you will still possess all the knowledge and mental maturity of a
seventeen year old witch. It will be quite a shock to your senses, not just the
journey, but the differences in the knowledge and technologies and ways of
doing things that you know of now but have yet to come into being in the past.
You will also need to gather anything you wish to have with you in the past, as
mementos of your life here if you wish them. I would also recommend you pack
anything of value to you, we will transport it with you in this."
He flicked his wand at one of the empty tea cups, transfiguring it into a
purple beaded bag.
"I will put an undetectable extension charm on it to allow you to fit your
belongings. I recommend things that will remind you in a non-obvious way of
your life here. Perhaps the collection of jumpers Molly Weasley knitted for
you. You will be able to fit into the old ones again when you take the De-Aging
potion… As for your cat, I have sent back Nifflers in the past but I do not
wish to risk having something malfunction, so I recommend asking Miss Weasley
to mind him for you, in the event that this does not work.
I want you to understand Miss Granger that while this is in theory and in
creature-testing a capability we possess, there is a very real chance that it
will not work and you will die or become addled in the attempt," He finished
gravely.
"I understand Professor. I would like to take the time to say goodbye to my
friends, and to my parents. Is there any chance I can slip away to Hogsmede to
take the Knight Bus?"
"I will make the arrangements," Dumbledore said softly, smiling gently at her
bravery, "Be sure to make it memorable Miss Granger, not for them, but for
yourself. You will never know and love them the same way as you do now. I will
be sending Severus to accompany you to ensure your safety while you visit your
parents. If I were you, I would use that time with him to try and have him
reveal any information you think might be useful to you when you travel to the
past in order to befriend the eleven year old boy he once was…. Come back to my
office when you are ready."
***** Making it Memorable *****
                        Chapter 2: Making it Memorable
===============================================================================
                                        
When Hermione left Dumbledore's office, she felt the weight in her chest of the
decision she had made. She was going back in time. Leaving all this behind in
favour of a life that may or may not be enjoyable. She might not even achieve
anything, she might just die in the attempt, or Merlin forbid, make things
worse.
Biting her lip, Hermione headed for the Great Hall, suspecting her friends
would likely be at dinner.
She stopped in the doorway when she saw them sitting and laughing together and
she blinked several times as she tried to burn the image into her memory to
keep with her forever. Harry, his hair wild and sticking up all over the place
as his glasses fogged up over his steaming pile of mashed potato and sausages.
Ginny, laughing about something, both of them dressed in their Quidditch
uniforms. Ron was there too, also dressed for practice, chewing with his mouth
open and laughing at something Harry had said.
She chose to ignore the fact that Lavender was there too, simpering and sighing
over Ron. Looking around the table, she also spotted Neville and Seamus sitting
together, Seamus missing an eyebrow from his latest pyrotechnics mishap while
Neville poked and prodded at some potted plant he'd brought to dinner with him.
"Are you alright Hermione?" a dreamy voice came from beside her and Hermione
looked over to see Luna standing beside her frowning in concern, "You look like
you've just had a wrackspurt fly into your ear and make your brain go fuzzy."
Hermione laughed.
"Would you like to have dinner at Gryffindor table Luna?" Hermione asked her,
"I'd like to hear more about wrackspurts."
"Oh that would be lovely," Luna said, smiling. Hermione smiled back and looped
her arm through Luna's, leading her over to the table.
"Hermione!" Harry called happily, "Where've you been? We looked for you in the
library when we got in from practice to have dinner but we couldn't find you."
"Oh, I've been around," Hermione said, "There were some things I needed to
discuss with Professor Dumbledore."
Everyone looked at her oddly and Harry raised his eyebrows. Hermione smiled
secretively.
"How was practice?" She asked them as she sat down.
"Oh it was great, Ginny's been teaching the other chasers this new technique
and Ron's been really improving on his goal-keeping. We're definitely going to
thrash Ravenclaw, Luna," Harry said, winking at the dreamy girl in greeting.
Hermione sighed happily, soaking in the familiar moment as she listened to her
friends as they discussed training and quidditch, listening to Harry ask her
how she was going with the essay for Snape in a voice that told her he was
going to ask to see hers later.
A while later, Hermione leaned over to say softly to Ginny, "Listen, Ginny….
You're the most wonderful friend I've ever had…. If…. If anything happens to
me…. Could you look after Crookshanks? Make sure he's taken care of and happy?"
"What's going to happen to you?" Ginny and Harry both asked sharply in low
voices.
"Nothing… but if it ever does, you know, could you just…. Make sure he's safe?"
"Of course Hermione," Ginny replied, "Is everything alright?"
"Yes. I love both of you, so much," she whispered to them, feeling a lump begin
to form in her throat.
"Oh Hermione," Ginny said, her own eyes filling even as the girl dragged her
into a warm hug, "You know we all love you too. And nothing's going to happen
to you. We'll always be together."
Hermione squeezed her friend tight and she sighed wistfully when Luna drew
Ginny into conversation.
"What's going on Hermione?" Harry asked her, his voice low as he leant in close
to whisper into her ear. Hermione turned to look at him. Drinking in the sight
of the boy who was the closest thing she'd ever had to having a brother. She
opened her eyes wide, allowing the image of him to fill up her vision. Those
emerald green, almond shaped eyes behind his smudged spectacles. That messy
black hair sticking up all over the place no matter how much he tried to pat it
down and get it to lie flat.
His kind face and concerned frown as he waited for her to answer him. Hermione
couldn't resist as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek affectionately.
Harry frowned more, worried now.
"I'm going to make everything better," she whispered to him, "I'm going to fix
it. I'm going to make sure you're happy and safe Harry."
"What are you talking about? I already am those things," Harry said,
bewildered.
"Harry… if you could see your parents just once more, and Sirius too, what
would you say to them?" She asked him softly.
He looked surprised by the question, "I don't know… That I love them… That I
miss them… that we'll be together again one day," He responded.
Hermione bit her lip as her eyes filled again.
"You're so wonderful, Harry. So brave, so humble….. Never change."
"Hermione, you're worrying me," he told her, taking her hand from his cheek and
squeezing it.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to. You're the closest thing I have to having a
brother…. I just want you to be safe and happy."
Harry frowned, pulling her into a reassuring hug.
"Why do I feel like you're trying to say goodbye?" Harry murmured into her ear.
Hermione just squeezed him tighter, breathing in the scent of his soap and the
airy scent of his clothes from flying.
He stared into her eyes frowning.
"I'm going home tonight, for a bit," Hermione told him, "I have to see my
parents. I just want to make sure that you all know I love you… just in case."
Harry nodded in understanding.
"You'll be fine 'Mione. And you know we love you too."
As he went back to his food, he kept glancing at her worriedly. Hermione smiled
reassuringly before turning her gaze on Ron. She'd not spoken to him properly
in weeks.
"Ronald?" Hermione said, watching the way he froze mid-chew to glance up at her
in surprise while Lavender began staring daggers at her "Could I speak to you
for a moment?"
Ron gulped as Hermione got up but he followed her in spite of Lavender's
protests. Halfway down the table in a place where they were mostly alone and
not likely to be overheard, Hermione sat back down. Ron dropped into his seat
next to her.
Hermione took a deep breath in and held it, debating whether or not to tell him
the truth about her feelings.
"Hermione?" he asked when she held her breath in silence for several minutes.
"You're a right git, you know?" Hermione informed him.
"Blimey Hermione," Ron exclaimed in surprise when she turned to look at him,
"What have I done now?"
"Did you ever even have the slightest clue that I've been in love with you for
years?" Hermione asked, throwing it all in, after all, she was going back in
time, she'd be in her thirties the next time she saw Ronald Weasley.
"Wh-What?" Ron stuttered in surprise.
"That's why I've been so mad at you and avoiding you when you're with Lavender.
I'm in love with you. I think I have been since fourth year…."
"Bloody hell!" Ron breathed and Hermione laughed when she saw the expression he
wore when he was thinking that all women were totally barmy.
"I just thought you should know, and wanted to ask if you realised," Hermione
said frankly.
"Well, I mean…. I wondered when you got your knickers in a twist about me and
Lav…. But then you stopped talking to me so…" Ron stuttered out.
Hermione nodded.
"I'm going to miss you," Hermione said, looking into his familiar blue eyes.
"What do you mean? Are you going somewhere? Did Dumbledore give you some kind
of assignment or something?"
"Yes. He did. I haven't told Harry or Ginny. But it means you might never see
me again. So I thought you should know before I go that I'm in love with you
and it really hurt me when you got together with Lavender."
Before he could respond, Hermione leaned over and hugged him tight.
A part of her wanted to tell him not to forget her, but she knew it would be
stupid since she was going back in time and he would have no choice.
"I'll never forget you Ron," Hermione whispered before pressing a kiss to his
cheek.
With that said and the most important goodbyes done, Hermione got up and walked
over to the teachers table, recalling her mission.
"Professor Snape, could I speak with you for a moment? In private?" Hermione
asked him, staring into the dark eyes of the Potions Master turned DADA
teacher.
"If this is about the essay, Miss Granger," he warned her in that low, hissing
voice, his eyes flashing at being interrupted during his evening meal.
"It's not. It's about something else. Please sir, it won't take long," Hermione
said.
Sighing as though she was insufferable, Snape got to his feet and stalked
towards the Entrance Hall, his black robes billowing behind him.
"Ah, Severus, Hermione. Just the two people I was looking for" Dumbledore
appeared in the doorway looking cheerful, "What were you doing?"
"I was going to ask Professor Snape a few questions," Hermione replied for the
both of them, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "Like you instructed."
"Excuse me?" Snape demanded.
"Indeed. Severus, Miss Granger has been instructed by me to ask you several
questions and I would appreciate it if you could be as honest with her as
possible, without losing your temper. In addition to that, I have arranged it
so that you will be able to travel to visit your parents and gather any of the
items you will require for your assignment Hermione. Severus, you will
accompany Miss Granger to her family home as it is unsafe for a muggle-born
witch to be travelling at night alone on the Knight Bus."
Snape looked utterly outraged by both pieces of information and Hermione found
herself hoping that he hadn't always been so nasty and difficult, since it was
about to become her task to befriend the younger version of the hook-nosed man
in front of her.
"I take it you will brook no arguments on this matter nor provide any form of
explanation," He replied, lips curling in irritation.
"Miss Granger will explain the situation to you as she sees fit while you
travel to her family home in London. Severus, it is vital that you answer all
of her questions truthfully and without losing your temper. I would also insist
that you acquiesce to any and all requests she makes of you, knowing that she
is doing so under my instruction for an assignment she has been given for the
Order," Dumbledore replied.
While they spoke, movement caught Hermione's eye and she watched Draco Malfoy
descend the stairs. She didn't know why, but as she watched him, Hermione found
herself recalling Dumbledore's words earlier that she should make sure her
goodbye was memorable. She giggled a little as an idea struck.
"Very well. Miss Granger?" Snape growled, looking less than pleased at the
lecture and at being instructed so.
"Just hold that thought Professor, there's one little thing I need to do before
I go," Hermione said.
Malfoy wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings, his shoulders hunched
and his face downturned as Hermione darted across the Entrance Hall,
intercepting his path to the Great Hall. Before he had time to register that it
was her, Hermione purposely bumped into him, and when he lifted his head to
glare at whoever had the audacity not to move out of his way, Hermione struck.
Pressing herself firmly against him, Hermione reached up and planted her lips
on his, snogging him soundly. At first he was so shocked that he didn't react,
and then he seemed to war with himself because while one of his arms wrapped
around her back pressing her closer, the other clamped down on her shoulder,
attempting to shove her backwards even though he was holding her against him.
When he actually kissed back, Hermione slipped her tongue into his mouth,
surprised by the minty fresh taste of him. She nearly keeled over in surprise
to learn he was an excellent snogger as his tongue flicked out to meet hers,
stroking assuredly in a way that sort of made her weak in the knees. From
behind her closed lids, Hermione could hear the intake of breath from
Dumbledore and Snape, and she heard the footsteps of someone leaving the hall
stutter to a stop before running away again followed by a shout.
"Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are snogging out here!" some gleeful voice
shouted and Hermione felt Malfoy tense against her as it occurred to him that
he was actually kissing an unknown party without pausing to see who it was.
Smirking against his lips even as they both pulled back, Hermione found that it
was definitely worth ticking this particular notion off her bucket list.
He glared down at her in open mouthed horror while Hermione smirked at the fact
that she'd messed up his neatly combed hair by running her hands through it.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing Granger?" Malfoy demanded,
looking outraged as his horror grew when he realised it really was her and that
he still had one arm looped around her as though he meant to pull her closer
again. Behind her she could hear the scraping of benches and patter of feet as
the majority of the inhabitants in the Great Hall rushed to see the spectacle
of two enemies snogging so publicly.
"Not bad Malfoy," Hermione replied, slipping out of his grip and beginning to
stalk away from him.
"You can't just…" Malfoy began furiously but Hermione spun back, cutting him
off when she pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him.
"It's too late Malfoy, it's done," She told him unapologetically, "You've
officially snogged a mudblood. Make sure your father hears about this."
Turning and leaving him sputtering in his fury, Hermione strode back over to
Snape and Dumbledore. The latter had an amused and curious tinkle in his eyes.
"Make it memorable, right?" Hermione said, winking at the Headmaster.
"Indeed. Fifty points to Gryffindor!" he replied before striding over to a
still stammering Malfoy, "Ah, Mr Malfoy, so good to see you. You look troubled,
but fear not young man, all your troubles will soon be inconsequential."
"Shall we be off, Professor?" Hermione asked cheerfully, pretending not to
notice the flurry of students that were crowded in the door of the Great Hall
having heard of the spectacle she'd just made with Malfoy.
***** An Honest Discussion *****
                        Chapter 3: An Honest Discussion
===============================================================================
                                        
"Have you lost your mind?" Snape asked her, his deep baritone voice sounding
very shocked indeed.
"Of course not, Sir," Hermione assured him, "I've just gained a new perspective
on life."
"And would you care to explain why it is that the Headmaster has seen fit to
grant you permission to leave the protection of the school grounds?"
"All in good time Professor," Hermione grinned, enjoying the scowl on his face
at her words, "First I have many, many questions to ask you. Would you like me
to start off with easy, non-threatening questions?"
"I beg your pardon?" He asked, gliding along next to her.
"I think it would be best if I did," Hermione said, feeling chipper and
practically skipping along the path towards Hogsmede, "So tell me Professor,
what do you like most about yourself?"
"What is the meaning of these impertinent questions?" He demanded, clearly less
than pleased.
"Professor Dumbledore has given me an assignment. And important part of which,
involves me learning about you Professor Snape. And since I have many, many
more personal and invasive questions, I'm trying to warm you up to sharing with
me."
"This is utterly ridiculous."
"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think so. What do you like best about yourself?"
"My intellect," he replied through gritted teeth and Hermione realised it was
going to be very much like trying to wrestle silver away from a Niffler to get
answers out of him.
"If you could change on thing about yourself, what would it be?" Hermione shot
back straight away.
"My past," he responded, glaring daggers at her even though they walked side-
by-side.
"Why? What would you change about the past?" Hermione asked him, "If you could
go back right now, what would you change?"
He looked royally annoyed by her question, glaring down his hooked nose at her.
"What does this have to do with any assignment for the Order that I would be
unaware of?" He countered.
"Everything. Answer me," Hermione replied.
"I am still your Professor and you will address me as such!" He snarled.
Hermione shook her head.
"For the purpose of this undertaking, you are no longer my Professor or of any
elevated status to me. I am no longer a student of Hogwarts and you are of no
more authority over me than I am over you. Answer my questions or I won't have
all the information I need and so will jeopardise the entire cause that the
Order of the Phoenix works so hard to achieve. What would you change about your
past?"
"I would take back some things I said to a person who was important to me and I
would never allow myself to have been seduced by the Dark Arts and the Dark
Lord."
"Why did you become a Death Eater?"
"Why are you an insufferable know-it-all?" Snape fired back and Hermione
realised that there was going to have to be a little bit of give and take if
she wanted more answers.
"Because as a muggle-born I arrived at Hogwarts with no real understanding of
the magical world and many of my classmates had been raised knowing such
things. I arrived at a disadvantage and to make up for it I studied. I found I
enjoyed learning almost everything to do with the magical world and wanted to
fit in as I had been unsuccessful on that front surround by muggle children as
a girl," She told him honestly and Snape curled his lip at her in a fierce
sneer.
"I'm still waiting to know why you became a Death Eater," Hermione said several
long minutes later as they passed through the school gates.
"I didn't fit in either," Snape growled, "I was too much of a know-it-all
regarding the Dark Arts when I arrived because I had been taught to read by my
mother and her reading material for me was textbooks on dark magic. I
sympathised with the cause of believing that wizards were better than muggles
because the only example of interactions I had ever had with muggles were poor
and unpleasant."
"Why were they unpleasant?" Hermione asked him curious in spite of herself.
Snape glared at her and Hermione could tell she was very quickly entering into
territory he did not want to discuss.
She watched him throw out his wand arm with a violent swipe through the air to
summon the Knight Bus and answered her in the silence that followed as they
waited for the bus to appear.
"Because my muggle father was abusive and a drunk. He cowed my mother, a once
powerful witch, into giving up magic and hated me for embracing it. The only
other muggles I encountered were cruel children."
"They do always seem to sense the difference," Hermione mused, "They picked on
me as a child as well, as though they could sense that I was magical and
therefore different from them."
"They knew I was," Snape sneered, "Because I set them on fire and used my magic
against them. They knew I was different because they feared me."
"So fear is the driving force you use to repel others in order to keep them
from getting too close and allowing them the chance to hurt you?" Hermione
clarified, though it was more of a speculation than a question and she could
tell the Professor was less them pleased with her summation.
"I had already suspected as much based on the way you run your classes and act
in general, though I had believed you simply despised children, and so couldn't
understand why you became a teacher," Hermione continued pretending not to
notice his scowl.
They both fell back in shock when the triple-decker purple bus appeared in
front of them and Hermione smirked to herself to know that she had unsettled
him so much with her questions that he was unprepared for a change.
"Welcome to the Knight bus!" began a nasally voice.
"Thank you, we've been on before; we don't need your spiel. Two tickets to
Branxton Street in London please," Hermione interrupted the conductor as she
got to her feet and stepped onto the bus, Snape right behind her.
He tried to interrupt by pushing her to one side but Hermione handed over the
money for their tickets before he could pay for his own, knowing he would
complain otherwise.
"What were you like as a child?" Hermione asked him as they were given their
tickets and made their way towards their seats even as the conductor explained
it would be a while before they returned to London as they were currently
bounding north.
"How is that in any way going to be useful to some kind of assignment now?"
Snape demanded, grumpier than usual.
"I'll just bet you were a delight," Hermione replied sarcastically.
"I've not changed," he told her sneeringly as he took his seat beside her,
making Hermione sit in the window seat to ensure no one could snatch her out of
the aisle.
"Oh, delightful!" Hermione muttered, "Why have you always been so disagreeable?
Other than that you use bad attitude to keep people away from you. Why don't
you like people?"
"People don't like me" he responded without looking at her and Hermione
realised that she was learning far more about him than most would ever bother
and that kind of made her sad.
"Because of your attitude?" Hermione prodded. Snape turned his cold black eyes
on her, letting her see that they glittering with malice.
"Before I had ever spoken a word in your first Potions class, did you like me?"
he asked instead of answering her question.
Hermione looked him over.
His black hair was long, and somewhat oily, though so close Hermione realised
the black strands were actually quite silky, rather than being as greasy as
she'd originally thought. His nose was the most prominent feature on his sallow
face, long and hooked, it was an imposing specimen and not really all that
attractive, though she supposed it could be considered a 'strong Roman-nose'.
His teeth were rather crooked, and yellowed somewhat in the manner of a person
who regularly forgets to brush and floss.
His hair hung long about his face and Hermione suspected he wore it that way
because he was able to hide behind the twin curtains somewhat. She suspected on
closer inspection that he cared little for his appearance due to his superior
intellect and she wondered suddenly if he suffered some kind of mild social
impairment. His heightened intelligence and lowered social skills certainly
suggested it.
"I respected you, and thought you were a little bit scary because you glared so
often," Hermione answered honestly. Snape's scowl deepened, "But I didn't
dislike you. I didn't start to dislike you somewhat until you repeatedly
degraded and ridiculed me for trying to help Neville in class when he was so
terrified of you that he bumbled things up. And I was rather miffed that you
felt the need to ask questions and proceeded to degrade and ridicule the entire
class when no one but me had the answer, though you continually refused to let
me answer them."
"Perhaps if you were smart you would learn to stop being so insufferable in
your incessant need to answer everything," He countered.
"Perhaps if you were, you would stop asking questions in class if you don't
want anyone to answer them," Hermione replied snidely.
"Ten points from…"
"Don't bother," Hermione interrupted him before he could finish, "After tonight
everything will change. There's no use you speaking to me like I'm just a
student anymore. The fact of the matter is that I'm no longer your student.
There is little use speaking to me or treating me like I am."
"Exactly what kind of assignment is this?" Snape demanded, looking intrigued
and irritable at the same time.
"The kind that changes absolutely everything," Hermione replied.
"How?"
"If we had been in the same year at Hogwarts, would you have been mean to me?"
Hermione asked him rather than answering.
"Would you have been mean to me?" he shot back.
"No."
"Given your current friends, I doubt that very much," Snape growled snidely.
"Because I'm friends with Harry and you hated his father?" Hermione asked.
Snape didn't reply but his dark expression was enough to answer the question.
"From what I've heard I wouldn't have approved of James and Sirius's actions
when they were in Hogwarts anyway. And if you were so much of an anti-social
know-it-all, maybe we'd have been friends."
Snape glared at her for a long time after that, but Hermione remained quiet,
sensing that he was appraising her as he never had before.
"You'd have been the interfering type that would've done more damage by trying
to help," he said cryptically.
"Harry told me that James and the Marauders were cruel to you," Hermione
admitted, "And yes, I would have interfered, trying to help you."
The expression of Snape's face was fierce.
"Meddlesome Gryffindors," he muttered sometime later as they bounced down some
bumpy country high in the Scottish mountains.
"Why did you join the ranks of the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked after casting
a muffliato spell - something that earned her a peculiar wide-eyed expression.
"I was disliked and trying to fit in with others in Slytherin," Snape replied
much later, "I had an unhealthy fascination with the Dark arts and joining
their ranks provided an opportunity not just to explore those darker things,
but also to excel at them and be praised for their use – the more creative the
better – rather than admonished and scorned for such talents."
Hermione nodded in understanding. It made sense.
"Do you think that if things had been different in your life, you would've been
less easily swayed to the dark cause?" Hermione asked mildly.
"Different how?" he asked and Hermione realised that beneath his prickly
exterior he was a curious person, especially when it came to the idea of a
student being given a secret assignment that mean she had to question him about
his life.
"Well, what if you'd been taught that muggles weren't all awful? Would that
have made you less likely to join a group killing and torturing them?"
"Perhaps," he said in a tone that made Hermione suspect he still wasn't overly
fond of muggles. When she took note of his robes and appearance she could guess
why.
"What about if you'd had better friends, ones less inclined towards the dark
side?"
"I had one but she was in a different house and was muggle-born, she also
refused to speak to me when I spoke out of turn in anger and refused to be my
friend anymore."
"Did it matter to you that she was muggle-born?" Hermione asked curiously.
"No."
"Does it matter to you that I am? Do you think less of me because my parents
are muggles."
"Not for that reason, no," he sneered, smirking cruelly now.
"But you do have a low opinion of me?"
"You imagine yourself to be of far more importance to me than you actually
are," Snape replied nastily
"Why do you have a low opinion of me?" Hermione pressed, knowing that such
information would be vital when attempting to befriend the child-version of
him.
"You are insufferable," he told her, "You lack even the most basic amount of
control not to speak out of turn when you know the answer to something, even if
you are not called upon to answer it. You have poor taste in friends and
diminish your own intelligence by being friends with a pair of dunderheaded
fools whom – without you doing their homework for them – would have failed
their first year at Hogwarts. You further diminish your own intelligence by
accepting everything you read as being fact. You make no effort to question the
findings of others, a fact that was blatantly obvious when you failed to see
the incorrect ingredient quantities within potions and so brewed mediocre
potions rather than experimenting and discovering more effective ways to
achieve the task at hand. You lack creativity and while you possess an above
average memory – allowing you to regurgitate the information you absorb on
command – you do not actually possess high levels of intelligence."
Hermione was aware of the fact that her face was crimson and that her mouth was
open in silent protest at his accusations, but he clearly wasn't finished if
that evil glitter in his black eyes was any indication.
"Your own use of logic – while commendable given that the rest of the world
seems to ignore logistics – is what holds you back from perhaps becoming a
renowned discoverer. To you, it is logical that spells would not be published
in text books unless they were correctly documented and approved by the
Ministry. You are limited by that logic because you fail to realise that magic
is an entity, a fabric with which you can create absolutely anything by using
the right amount of creativity, intent, and intelligence. You fail to see that
if you have a need of some kind of spell, you would not need to look one up
that might be close to what you want, but rather could create your own,
tailored to your specific need."
He paused for another breath and Hermione wasn't sure whether she should feel
insulted or stupid.
"Frankly Miss Granger, I have a low opinion of you because you walk around with
an inflated sense of self-worth based on what is really nothing more than a
photographic memory. You and many others believe that you are the 'brightest
witch of your age' when it is an undeserved title due to your limited and
rather poorly endowed competition. Is it really greatness to be better at
running than beings who've no legs?"
"Branxton Street, London!" The conductor announced over the radio as the bus
jerked to a stop on Hermione's street.
"This is my stop," she told Snape curtly, less than pleased at what he had said
about her. He looked particularly pleased to have angered her and Hermione
nettled all the more, wanting to hex him. Mostly it was because he'd hit some
particularly sensitive nerves. She was well aware of that fact that she lacked
an overly creative mind. She knew too that it wasn't really that much of an
accomplishment to use her memory where others did not. Especially since she
actually did have a photographic memory.
As they stepped off the bus onto the quiet suburban street where her parents
lived, Hermione realised that she really was going to have her work cut out for
her trying to befriend Snape in some way that would keep him from turning to
Voldemort. Mostly because she would have to learn how to be his friend when he
clearly didn't think very much of her and was far smarter than most people
realised.
"So what you're saying," Hermione began as she walked slowly down the deserted
street towards her parent's place, "Is that you think I'm stupid simply because
I'm not creative?"
"You are foolish not to question what you are told," he replied, gliding along
next to her looking like an over-grown bat when his cloak billowed in the
breeze.
"Isn't it considered disrespectful to question your elders?" Hermione
countered, "I seem to recall that you don't like to be questioned on judgements
you make and things you say."
"That is because I'm far smarter than you will ever be and not only can,
but have considered each of my assertions from every possible angle before I
make them. Questioning me is foolish. However, to not question something you
read is downright stupidity."
"Do you mean the way certain things are published as being fact when there are
more effective ways to do them, such as more effective ways to brew potions
than those published in the potions manuals?" Hermione asked, suddenly
recalling Harry's copy of their sixth year potions book that had so many
recipes tampered with in such ways that he was outstripping her in class.
"Indeed," Snape replied and Hermione rankled at his bored tone.
As they reach the front gate to her parent's house, Hermione reached over and
took his arm.
"What do you think you are doing?" Snape demanded, eyeing her dangerously.
"Given that I have warded my parent's house to ensure that no magical being but
myself can enter, I have to escort you or rather unpleasant consequences may
befall you," Hermione told him shortly.
He didn't say anything when Hermione felt her wards ripple over both of them,
releasing him once they were through the front gate. She could see his curled
lip as he looked at her parent's stately townhouse while she used magic to
unlock the front door. He jumped slightly when she took his hand on the stoop
and led him through the now open front door. Hermione was surprised by the fact
that his hand was warm inside her own. She'd expected that he would be as cold
to touch as his personality was to experience.
"Mum? Dad?" Hermione called once they were in the hall, walking down the hall,
surprised that her parents hadn't come to investigate the sound of the front
door opening and closing. She jumped when Snape walked into her as she stopped
to peer into the lounge room.
"Is anyone home?" she called out, suddenly feeling apprehensive when Snape
stepped around until he was in front of her, his wand drawn while he muttered
spells.
"There isn't anyone else here," he informed her and Hermione narrowed her eyes.
Dashing into the kitchen, Hermione went to the large well-mapped calendar on
the wall.
"They're at a board meeting," she announced loudly before realising that Snape
had followed behind her, "And won't be home until after ten. So it looks like
we'll have to wait."
"What is so important about your assignment that you had to see your parents so
desperately?" Snape demanded looking less than pleased.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Hermione asked instead of answering him, rather
enjoying his anger after he had been so blunt about his low opinion of her.
"Black with sugar," he replied curtly, nostrils flaring menacingly at her
audacity.
Hermione set about making the tea while he loomed impatiently.
"You never finished answering my questions, you know," Hermione reminded him,
"About whether or not having things be different in your life would have kept
you from becoming a Death Eater. Do you think you would've been swayed from it
if you'd had friends in Slytherin who weren't interested in the dark arts? Who
were really your friends rather than 'business associates' or whatever stupid
arrangement Slytherins claim to have in the place of friendship?"
"What is the meaning of this?" Snape demanded instead, "What possible
assignment could you have been given that would require knowledge about me, let
alone require prodding about with ridiculous 'what if' scenario-based
questions?"
"Something that is highly dangerous and requires that I give up my life,"
Hermione replied, "So you better make sure you give me truthful, helpful
answers because if I give it all up armed with false information I'm going to
personally murder you."
Snape eyed her nastily after that but Hermione could still see the curiosity
burning in those fathomless black pools.
"Real, loyal friends might have helped," he answered finally as Hermione
brought him a cup of tea.
"Did your attitude make having such friends easy to attain?" Hermione asked,
smirking at him when he choked on the sip of tea he'd just taken at her
insolence.
"What is the point of having friends if you have to pretend to be something
you're not in order to gain and keep their friendship?" He countered when he'd
recovered and Hermione found herself nodding at the insight.
"If I'd been there, would you have let me be your friend?" Hermione asked him
probingly and didn't much like the way he curled his lip at her.
"You're a Gryffindor and insufferable," Snape replied.
"What if I'd been in Slytherin? The Sorting Hat considered putting me there."
"Really?" he asked mildly and Hermione suspected that little piece of
information surprised him. Hermione nodded, realising she'd just handed over a
secret she'd never told anyone else. She'd never even told Harry when he'd
mentioned something about the Hat wanting to put him in Slytherin.
"Yes. It seems I'm rather cunning with my logic when I want to be," Hermione
told him.
"I doubt that. Cunning requires a modicum of creativity in order to think of
ways to outsmart people."
"I regularly think of ways to outsmart people," Hermione replied.
"Stupid people," Snape replied sneeringly.
"I outsmarted the test you put in place to keep anyone from being able to
access the Philosopher's Stone when I was in first year," Hermione replied,
enjoying his unpleasant thunderstruck scowl.
After that they both drank their tea in silence, Hermione hiding a small,
pleased smiled behind her mug at his expression.
"Well, are you coming?" she asked when he set his empty cup down finally.
"Coming where?" he asked warily, eyeing her suspiciously for the way she was
smiling broadly now.
"My bedroom, of course."
***** Part of the Plan *****
                          Chapter 4: Part of the Plan
===============================================================================
                                        
"I beg your pardon?" He demanded and Hermione suspected it might have been the
most polite sounding thing Snape had ever said to her.
"I asked you to join me in my bedroom," Hermione clarified, a smirk playing at
the corners of her mouth when she noticed his uncomfortable and entirely
concerned expression at such a notion.
"Why would I do that?" he asked, his lip curling and Hermione could tell he was
taking offense to the idea of her possibly toying with him in some way.
"Part of my mission requires that I amend my virginal status, sir," Hermione
said, having entirely too much fun watching the way he choked on the last sip
he'd taken of his tea, "And we only have so long to accomplish that task before
my parents return from their meeting."
"If you think for even a second….." He began but Hermione cut him off.
"Professor Dumbledore did instruct you to follow all of my directives without
question, sir," she told him, trying very hard to hide her smirk of amusement.
"I sincerely hope, for your sake, that you are joking Miss Granger," Snape
warned her.
"Not at all Professor. You wouldn't want me to die a virgin, would you?"
"That is none of my business," he growled, looking somewhat ill at the
prospect.
"Of course it's your business, after all, my mission demands that I simply
cannot enter into it whilst remaining a virgin, and due to the nature of my
assignment, it can't be just anyone who deflowers me."
"This is not an amusing joke Miss Granger," Snape told her, rising to his feet
and looking like he'd very much like to hex her, "You have been trying my
patience all evening, but this is going too far."
"I'm sorry if this upsets you sir, but I can assure you this is no joke."
"You expect me to believe that Professor Dumbledore asked you to undertake some
kind of secret mission that calls for a sexual relationship between you and I?"
"It's not as though I'm a child," Hermione told him, having to bite the inside
of her cheek to keep from giggling at his reaction, "I am of age after all, and
as such I am able to consent and to undertake assignments for the Order that
will likely change absolutely everything - if I am successful. Now, are you
going to continue to look affronted and act like a blushing teenager about this
or are you going to join me in my bedroom? We don't have all night, you know?"
Snape curled his lip at her in the manner Hermione recognised as the expression
worn by cranky animals and she turned away from him, pretending to stomp as she
exited the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She had to stop
looking at him or she was going to laugh and ruin the joke. It was entirely too
much fun to torment him knowing that there was nothing he could do to punish
her.
When she reached her familiar childhood bedroom, Hermione sighed softly.
Everything was just as she'd left it and immediately Hermione made her way to
her closet, the purple bag Dumbledore had given her - the one with the
Undetectable Extension harm on it - swinging from her wrist while she dug
around for all her old Weasley jumpers and some other clothes she still had
from the time when she was eleven or younger. After all, she would be taking a
De-Aging Potion so it stood to reason that much of the clothing she had
outgrown would soon fit her again.
"What are you doing?" that cool voice asked her and Hermione smirked before
biting her lip and turning to look over her shoulder to see that Snape had
joined her. He was loitering in her bedroom doorway looking entirely
uncomfortable but scowling enough to still appear fierce and formidable.
"I was beginning to suspect you'd left," Hermione said, grinning just a little.
Snape's response was to leer at her, but it was clear to her that he was
entirely too uncomfortable with the idea of what he'd been told he had to do to
think of anything to say.
"Well," Hermione began, before pursing her lips, "Are you just going to loiter
in my doorway, or are you going to come in?"
Scowling, his hand twitching towards the pocket where he kept his wand, Snape
took a measured step into the room.
"This is utterly ridiculous," she heard him mutter as he took another step,
glaring around her room now with distaste.
"It is, isn't it?" Hermione agreed, "Erm... if you wouldn't mind, I need you to
sit over at my desk for a few minutes."
"Why?"
"Well because I'm still gathering my supplies for my assignment."
"You mean to tell me you want to prolong this awkwardness?" he demanded.
"Would you prefer to pre-awkwardness or the post-awkwardness in this particular
situation?" Hermione retorted, "After all, my parents still aren't going to be
home for a few hours, and I can't leave until after they've returned so..."
Snape's scowl deepened as he swiftly crossed the room and sat himself down in
her desk chair.
Hermione grinned before going to her bookshelf and retrieving one of her books.
She enjoyed the way he watched her like a hawk as she moved towards him slowly,
almost hesitantly.
"Is this your approximation at keeping me entertained while you pack?" he
sneered when he noticed it was a potions textbook. In spite of his cranky
expression, Hermione could see the glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes at the
prospect.
"Actually no. It is my understanding that you like to tamper with potion
recipes in ways that make them more effective," Hermione told him, catching his
surprise, "So I was hoping you would be able to make a copy of your version on
how to make Wolfsbane Potion. I have some parchment here, since I can't take
the whole book with me."
"You want me to write a potions recipe?" He asked, looking dubious.
"Feeling more like the student being given homework than the teacher, sir?"
Hermione grinned at him.
He didn't deign to give her a response and chose instead to ask her a question.
"What could you possibly want with a revised version of the Wolfsbane potion?"
"I have need of it for my assignment," Hermione replied, "Besides, I would
think this particular request would be far more agreeable to you than the
request I made in the kitchen."
"You are entirely too contrary for your own good, Miss Granger," he informed
her.
"It's been said before," Hermione grinned at him.
"What kind of assignment would call for Wolfsbane potion?" he demanded,
smirking a little now.
"The kind that will bring me into contact with a werewolf," Hermione replied.
"Do you take pleasure in stating the obvious?"
"Sometimes, though usually I prefer to leave that to Harry or Ron. It
encourages them to feel like they're contributing to a logical discussion
without impinging on the delicate male ego."
Hermione didn't know if she or Snape was more surprised when he snorted in
amusement.
"Very well then," Snape said, picking up one of Hermione's pen and tugging the
piece of note-paper she'd torn from a notebook closer, "But in return for this
potion recipe, you are going to explain to me why it is that you're currently
packing clothing that looks like they belong to a child rather than an adult."
"I have a need for them," Hermione replied smoothly.
"What is so secretive about this assignment?" he demanded, curiosity clearly
getting the better of him.
"I would think you, of all people, would be used to the idea of having
secretive assignments that you cannot share details about."
"Perhaps, but when they call for me to deflower someone I find myself thinking
I ought to be privy to the information."
"But that would result in your attempting to interfere with the assignment,
which would be entirely detrimental to saving the wizarding world from war,"
Hermione told him, gathering together several pictures of herself and her
parents and her friends and slipping them all into a small photo-album to take
with her. It was ill-advised, but Hermione didn't want to go into the past
without some memento of her life now.
"Why would I interfere with something like that? What could you possibly..." he
trailed off and Hermione jumped when he was suddenly right behind her, gripping
her biceps and spinning her to face him.
"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded, squirming in his tight hold.
"You let that old fool talk you into being transported back in time?" he
snarled into her face and Hermione found herself surprised by his height when
he stood close enough that his body was almost pressed against the length of
hers. Not to mention shocked that he had managed to figure it out on his own.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied evasively.
"Don't. Lie. To Me." he growled, enunciating each word slowly with a dangerous
hiss, "I knew he'd been fantasising about such nonsense, but to have talked a
student into... Have you lost your mind? You are going to die, Miss Granger."
"No I'm not, and Dumbledore didn't talk me into anything. When I was summoned
to his office, he merely suggested that as a last resort, should we lose the
second War that he would like to have a plan in place to alter things. It was
me who talked him into not waiting until then."
"What could you possibly intend to achieve going back in time?" he demanded
"More importantly, why would such a fool's errand require that you have
knowledge about me... Oh no!"
His grip grew tighter on her arms, cutting off her circulation as he scowled
down at her.
"You're not going back in time to meddle into my life, Miss Granger."
"Whoever said I was?" Hermione asked innocently.
"You did."
"I did no such thing!"
"You lie!" he snarled, squeezing her arms even tighter.
"You're hurting me," Hermione hissed back, glaring up into his face. "So I
recommend that you let me go right now."
Hermione gasped when he shoved her back hard enough that she fell against her
bed, her arms aching from his tight grip and her heart hammering in her chest.
"You will not be going!" he informed her.
"How do you propose to stop me?" Hermione asked, glaring at him from her bed.
"By any means necessary."
"What are you so afraid of?" she snapped, "What is it that you're so terrified
of that you're flying off the handle like this? Merlin, have you always had a
temper like this?"
"Yes!" He hissed at her, looking very much like he wanted to murder her.
"Well you better learn to get a hold of it because there is nothing you can say
or do that is going to change what's going to happen."
"How far is he sending you back?" Snape demanded.
"Back to your first year at Hogwarts," Hermione informed him, "Where I will be
given a De-Aging Potion so that I'll blend right in with the first year
students."
"You have lost you mind," he accused, "What could you possibly hope to
achieve? IF you survive the attempt."
"It seems there are several 'at risk' students that I'll be expected to
influence to keep them out of the clutches of Voldemort," Hermione retorted,
noticing the way he flinched.
"He means to keep me from joining the Dark Lord and so keep the Prophecy from
being passed on," Snape growled.
"Among other things."
"And just how do you propose to do that?" He demanded of her, his gaze
travelling over her and his lip curling at the idea.
"By befriending you and the others on Dumbledore's list and making sure you
don't all fall prey to a ravenous lunatic with a god-complex."
"You think you're going to be able to convince me to be your friend?" he
scoffed.
"Of course, because I know all about you and so will be able to manipulate the
circumstances to ensure that you will be my friend."
"Are you really so desperate for friendship?" he snapped at her.
"No, but you are," Hermione retorted.
"You are out of line Miss Granger!" he warned her, advancing menacingly.
"No, you are! I'm going to be able to re-write history and make sure that
everything awful that's happened won't happen again. James and Lily won't put
their faith in a traitor and end up dead. Sirius won't hunt Pettigrew down and
wind up in Azkaban for crimes he didn't commit. Remus won't be left all alone
to suffer through life with his affliction. You and several others won't end up
Voldemort's lackeys and cause all of the issues we are currently facing.
Dumbledore will have almost thirty years of a head-start on hunting down
horcruxes and destroying them. They will be forewarned of the families and
people that are targeted by Voldemort, ensuring that they can be protected.
Everything will be better."
"And you're willing to risk your life to achieve that?" he demanded, an
unpleasant expression twisting his features.
"Yes!" Hermione replied.
"And if they device doesn't work? If you wind up thirty years in the past with
an addled mind, then what?"
"Then nothing," Hermione snapped, "Because it's not going to happen."
"Albus Dumbledore isn't infallible, Miss Granger," he warned her, seeming to be
slowly getting a hold of his temper.
"No, but he's close enough. I trust him and I believe it's worth the risk."
"Just how do you plan to befriend the twelve year old version of me Miss
Granger?" he asked, and Hermione could tell that was part of what worried him.
Hermione smiled.
"I'll know to look past that nasty attitude and sharp tongue to see the grumpy
little boy hiding behind that facade."
"In other words you're going to be your usual, persistent, annoying self," He
replied dryly.
"Think it will work?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"No."
"What kind of attitude is that?" Hermione demanded.
"The kind designed to keep you from meddling with time and with my life."
"Because your life has been such a happy affair and you wouldn't change
anything?" Hermione said sarcastically.
"What does this plan have to do with you seducing me?" he asked, suddenly
switching topics even though he glared at her for the comment.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"I see no call in this assignment of yours that requires you change your
virginal status," he said.
"You want me to risk death or addlement without carnal knowledge?" Hermione
asked, grinning now.
He stared at her, one eyebrow quirked in irritation or perhaps confusion.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.
"Why did you try to seduce me Miss Granger?"
"I never tried to seduce you," Hermione told him, "That would've involved
invading your personal space and touching you inappropriately while speaking in
a husky voice."
"And you expect me to believe you don't have carnal knowledge," he clicked his
tongue condescendingly.
"I don't," Hermione snapped, blushing, "I was pointing out that if I had tried
to seduce you, I'd have done that sort of thing, rather than simply tormenting
you by informing you it was required for the success of my mission."
"Which you did because...?" Snape said, clearly waiting for an explanation.
Hermione shrugged "It's easier to tolerate your rudeness and your abrasive
personality if I throw you off kilter and unsettle you."
He looked thunderstruck.
"Did you finish that recipe?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, getting up and
walking around him since he was still towering over her, looking menacing.
She smiled when she saw that he had and she recognised the cramped, spiky
handwriting she'd been seeing in Harry's Potions textbook that he'd been using
to beat her in class.
"Can I ask you something?" Hermione asked as she picked up the piece of paper,
folding it and slipping it inside her bag.
"It's been my experience that whether I say yes or no, you'll ask regardless."
"Why did you once refer to yourself as the Half-Blood Prince?"
"Is there anything you don't know?" he demanded, looking entirely perplexed and
shocked at her mentioning of that particular title.
"Of course there is, else I wouldn't be asking a question."
"It was a ridiculous title I fashioned for myself because as I've mentioned,
I'm a half-blood due to the fact that my father was a muggle; and my mother's
maiden name was Eileen Prince. Since I abhorred my father - wretched man that
he was - I chose to identify myself via my magical heritage and blood-status."
"Who else knew about the title?"
"No one," he replied, "Which begs the question of how it is that you know about
it?"
"It's written in your old potions book from the storage cupboard in the
dungeons," Hermione told him, "The one filled with tampered potion recipes and
an assortment of spells that I'm beginning to suspect you invented yourself."
"And you have possession of my property because...?"
"I don't have it," Hermione said, "Harry does. He and Ron found it when they
enrolled into Potions late after learning you weren't teaching the course this
year."
"That rotten little swine! I knew there was no possible way he suddenly became
perfect at potions when he's been nothing but a bumbling fool in the past."
"Must you always be so abrasive?" Hermione asked him.
"Must you always be so insufferable?" he retorted.
"I get the feeling this mission is going to try my patience," Hermione informed
him as she did a final sweep of her room for anything else she could think of
that she might want to take with her that wasn't already at Hogwarts.
"I suspect you have an overly optimistic view of the life you are going to
immerse yourself in," he told her, watching her as she moved around the room,
picking things up and pondering their usefulness.
"Are you going to help me or are you going to continue to be difficult?"
Hermione asked him, glancing over and holding his gaze.
"Why would I help you meddle with my life?" he asked coldly.
"So that I don't make it worse," Hermione replied, "I have an idea of how to
fix things, but what if I make them ten times worse?"
"Then don't do it, foolish girl!" Snape told her, rolling his eyes.
"That's not an option," Hermione said, "So I'm going to ask you again. When I
go back, do you think you'll be my friend?"
"I don't know," Snape replied, "What are you intending to change to make
yourself less insufferable?"
"Wasn't it you who said that friends shouldn't expect each other to change who
they are?"
"I get the feeling you're going to be even more insufferable as a friend than
you are as a student."
"Because I ask too many questions?"
"No, because you might actually challenge me intellectually. It's bound to get
on my nerves and will either make me hate you, or befriend you."
"Since I'll still retain the mental capability of a seventeen year old and
you'll only be twelve, I think I'll have the upper hand," Hermione smirked at
him.
"I wouldn't count on it," Snape told her.
"You were a know-it-all too, weren't you?" Hermione grinned.
"Perhaps. Though I'm sure I was less insufferable."
"How so?"
"I kept to myself and didn't have any friends to boost my ego to enormous
proportions just because I was smarter than them. Instead I had a gang of
idiots more than willing to take the mickey out of me and attack me whenever
the chance arose."
"That'll change," Hermione said, deciding she had grabbed everything she needed
from her room and ignoring the fact that Snape curled his lip nastily when she
picked up the stuffed bunny she had as a little girl that she used to cuddle in
bed every night.
"I still say this is a ridiculous plan and probably a suicide mission," he told
her, following her as she walked out of her room and back down to the kitchen.
"You're entitled to your opinion," Hermione told him as she set about making
another cup of tea, making him a second cup without bothering to ask him if he
wanted another, "We still have more than an hour to kill before my parents get
back."
"Is this you trying to seduce me again?" he asked and if Hermione didn't know
better she'd almost think he was... joking with her.
"Does it look like I'm rubbing up against you?" She asked, grinning.
"I suspect your approach would be more subtle," he retorted, taking the tea and
sitting at the kitchen table in her parent's house. Hermione opened her mouth
to reply but before she could he added, "Else you would be dating Mr Weasley by
now, though he is clearly too thick to have noticed your interest in him."
"And here I thought you might be giving me a compliment," Hermione grumbled,
sitting down at the table across from him.
"I very rarely give out compliments Miss Granger. So few people deserve them
and you've not earned one."
"Why do I get the feeling that behind that nastiness you actually have a sense
of humour?" Hermione asked him, eyeing him over the rim of her tea-cup.
"I don't hide it. I simply prefer to find humour at the expense of others
rather than low level wit."
"In other words you like being mean," Hermione laughed. She was shocked when
the Professor shrugged, smirking sinisterly. "Doesn't that seem a little
beneath you, given your history of being the butt of other people's jokes and
pranks?"
"It's character-building to be picked on," he informed her.
"Yeah, because you've got so much character going for you."
He scowled at her.
"See?" Hermione continued when he looked annoyed, "You don't like it when
people say things like that to you and yet you openly and viciously mock others
for their flaws."
"You are too logical," he muttered, before taking a big gulp of his tea and
looking away from her.
"Perhaps I am, but maybe if you didn't strike out at everyone else all the
time, unprovoked most of the time, you would have a better chance of making
friends. You only do it to pre-empt anyone striking out at you."
"Why are you bothering to tell me this when in a few short hours you're going
to go back and meddle with time and with me, meaning I won't recall this
conversation."
"In case it fails. And because I care."
"Now you're going to try and tell me you care about me being bitter and
vicious?" He demanded, looking annoyed all over again.
"I do actually care. So you can stop looking like I've lied to you and suck it
up. Besides, I figure this is good practice for learning to tolerate your
personality."
"I bet you get frustrated and give up on trying to be my friend within the
first year," he told her, smirking over the top of his cup at her before
holding it out to her and showing her it was empty.
"Is this your way of asking for a refill?" Hermione asked drolly, "And you
can't make a bet with me about it because I'll never get to collect my
winnings."
"Winnings?" He scoffed, "Your winnings can be that you get to spend your final
hours on this time-line enjoying the pleasure of my company."
Hermione snorted as she made the tea.
"Arrogance does not suit you, Professor. Stick to being nasty."
"I was being nasty," he replied and Hermione saw a flicker of amusement in his
dark eyes when she laughed.
"Do you want something to eat?" She asked, "I dragged you away from your
dinner."
"You expect me to believe you can cook?" He asked, "You're forgetting I've seen
you brew a potion. I don't trust you in a kitchen."
"I can cook," Hermione protested, "Better than you, I'd wager."
"Doubtful, Miss Granger," he retorted.
"Just because you can brew a potion doesn't make you a master chef," Hermione
told him.
"No, but being a perpetual bachelor with no friends certainly does."
Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, feeling her amusement deflate a
little at his comment.
"Does that mean I shouldn't go back in time and make friends with you? I
wouldn't want to mess with your cooking skills."
"Very funny," he said dryly, shooting her a bored look.
"Do you want something or not? I can actually cook."
"I'm fine," he told her when Hermione brought him his cup of tea. Hermione
rolled her eyes.
"Well I was too busy talking and saying goodbye to my friends to eat, so I'm
having something."
"What are you having?" he asked and Hermione smirked, realizing he was hungry,
he was just being polite.
"It depends what my parents have in the fridge and the pantry," Hermione
shrugged, "What do you feel like eating?"
"I told you I'm fine."
"And then very pointedly asked me what I was going to cook. Meaning you're
hungry, you're just hiding a polite streak I doubted you were capable of
because you don't want to seem like you have needs."
"That perceptiveness is going to get you in trouble you know," he told her,
clearly having given up on demanding that she speak to him more respectfully.
"With you?" Hermione asked, digging around in the fridge and unearthing some
bacon, prosciutto, pepperoni, feta cheese and some shallots. In the pantry she
found some canned tomatoes, onions, a jar of tomato and herb pasta sauce and
some dry pasta.
"Yes, with me," Snape answered, watching her assemble all the ingredients on
the bench before hunting for a saucepan to boil the pasta and a frying pan for
the rest of the ingredients.
"Why? Because you're likely to try and lie to me and put on a facade a lot and
I'm going to see through it?"
"Yes. It's getting on my nerves now and I had less control over my tongue as a
teenager."
"I'm used to being insulted by you, I'm sure it will be like water off a duck's
back."
"For you, but it will drive me nuts."
"You don't like it when you try to push me away and it doesn't work," Hermione
accused him, sticking a metal teaspoon in her mouth before she set about
chopping the onions.
"I have no tolerance for anything that doesn't work," he corrected, "And what
are you doing with that ridiculous spoon in your mouth?"
"It keeps me from tearing up when I chop the onions," Hermione said around the
spoon, grinning at him.
"Are you a witch or not?" he demanded, clearly appalled at the idea of
resorting to using a muggle trick when she could simply use a suppression charm
on the onion spores.
"Of course I am, but suppressing the spores means I don't get that onion smell
on my hands, and I like having the onion smell on my hands."
"Insufferable and odd," Hermione heard him mutter.
"Don't tell me there aren't potion or cooking ingredients that you don't like
spilling on yourself simply so you can enjoy them later."
"No wonder you never get full marks on your potions. You've been contaminating
them with the juices and spores of other ingredients."
"Sometimes I prefer not getting full marks. It makes me try harder," Hermione
told him, "Are you going to tell me anything else about yourself that it might
be important for me to know?"
"Why would I do that? You're already going to have me at a disadvantage upon
meeting me. If I tell you anything else the twelve year old version of me will
have no chance at escaping your friendship."
"That's kind of the point," Hermione told him, slicing up bacon, prosciutto,
shallots and pepperoni into small chunks, "The idea is that I go back and
befriend you and keep you from making all the mistakes that landed you here."
"Any more information and the twelve year old me will be suspicious of you,
then you'll bollocks everything up and make things even worse," He told her,
"What are you going to do when I find out you're a time-travelling meddlesome
swot and lose my temper with you about it?"
"Lie," Hermione said simply, "Or, alternatively, not let you find out."
"I see, a friendship built on lies. Doesn't that sound appealing?" he
practically grumbled and Hermione turned to look at him, tossing the cooking
ingredients in her frying pan.
"You don't even like me, what are you grumbling about?"
"You're going to trick me into it and it will all be a lie."
"Who said it would be a lie?" Hermione demanded.
"You did. You're only purpose for befriending me is to manipulate me and my
life-path."
"Not my only purpose," Hermione argued with him, checking the pasta as it
boiled, "I would also be befriending you to save you from years of torment at
the hands of James Potter and Sirius Black, not to mention anyone else you
manage to irritate with your too-smart-for-your-own-good mouth and that
attitude."
"That is really no way to speak to your teacher, Miss Granger," he admonished,
though he looked mildly amused behind that scowl.
"You're not my teacher, anymore. You're my friend now," Hermione told him with
a smile.
"No I'm not."
"You are. Which is another reason you'd never find out I was manipulating you,
because you're my friend."
"I don't have any friends Miss Granger. I have associates and I have enemies
and that is it."
"Would any of them cook you dinner?" Hermione challenged as she combined all
the ingredients in her frying pan to mix the sauce through before straining the
pasta.
"No," he admitted, glaring.
"Then I'm your friend," Hermione said simply.
"You don't even like me," he argued scowling moodily now.
"Says who?"
"You did," he told her.
"I never said I didn't like you. I said I wasn't a fan of the way you belittle
and degrade everyone, including all of my friends and me. I also said that I
respected you anyway, because you're scary when you scowl like that," she
pointed at his fierce expression, "But I never said I didn't like you. I
actually find you mildly amusing and interesting to talk to."
Snape stayed silent after that, glaring moodily into his tea cup, making
Hermione suspect it was empty again.
Reaching over, Hermione flicked the kettle on again, watching Snape out the
corner of her eye. He clearly didn't want to be anywhere near her anymore, and
didn't like the idea of her considering him to be amusing or interesting.
"You'll have to be careful," he said finally, when Hermione brought over a bowl
of pasta and sat it in front of him along with some cutlery, prying the tea-cup
from his grip so she could refill it.
"I'm always careful," Hermione told him.
"I was prone to slipping people Veritaserum so I could embarrass them and find
out their secrets. It's more than likely that I'll do it to you."
"I'm more than prepared for your lack of trust," Hermione told him, "Besides, I
don't have anything to hide."
"You'll have a lot of things to hide. All the secrets you know from this time."
"But you won't know to ask me about them."
Hermione put the fresh cup of tea in front of him before she joined him at the
kitchen table, digging into her pasta hungrily.
"You wanted the potion recipe for Lupin, didn't you?" he asked suddenly
changing the subject and making Hermione look up at him. He was taking his time
eating the food she'd cooked him and Hermione found herself wondering if he
didn't like it or if he was savouring it.
"Yes, I did," she confirmed, "His condition is hard on him and must be
unbearable while he's at school. At least this way when he transforms he won't
lose his mind. "
"If that falls into the wrong hands you're going to discredit the original
inventor."
"I'm not an idiot, you know?" Hermione said, frowning impatiently, "I'm not
just going to go shouting about it. I'm going to give it to Professor
Dumbledore, who will be aware of my time-travelling status, and have him decide
who should make the potion for Remus and give it to him. I'm not going to go
about telling people I'm from the future there to save them all or something
equally ridiculous. If I have my way, Professor Dumbledore will be the only one
who evens knows I'm from this time."
"Why did you make this for me?" he asked, indicating to his food, changing the
subject again.
"Because you were hungry," Hermione shrugged, "I was hungry too. It's not like
it was hard."
"It's nice," he murmured a while later without looking at her and Hermione
realised suddenly that he probably wasn't used to having anyone do anything
nice for him, even if it was just cooking him dinner.
"I'm glad you like it," Hermione replied, "Even if I'm insufferable and odd."
When he smirked at her, Hermione felt a little flush of happiness inside her
chest to know that she'd succeeded in making that perpetual scowl and sneer
disappear.
***** The Hardest Goodbye *****
                        Chapter 5: The Hardest Goodbye
===============================================================================
                                        
"Hello?" Hermione heard a familiar voice call out, and Snape jerked to his
feet, his wand drawn in the blink of an eye. His reflexes were astounding and
Hermione wondered if she was ever as quick as him or if it had taken years and
years of constantly being on his guard for an attack
"Dad?" Hermione called back, "We're in the kitchen."
"Hermione?" Her mother's voice called, sounding hopeful.
"It's me Mum," she said, grinning and waving at Snape to sit back down and
finish his food.
"My little girl's home!" Her mother cried happily, practically bounding in the
room with much more spryness than any woman in her fifties has a right to still
possess. "Oh, hello. You've got company."
Monica Granger smiled warmly at Snape even though Hermione could see the way
her mother's gaze took in his scowl and his dark appearance before she glanced
at Hermione with an expression of mild concern.
"This is Professor Snape," Hermione introduced him to her parents, "Professor,
these are my parents, Monica and Wendell Granger."
He made no move to greet them, but he did scowl a little less so Hermione
assumed it was the best they were going to get.
"Well it's nice to meet you, Professor Snape, I'm sure," Monica greeted him
with a welcoming smile, "Now, what are you doing here sweetheart?"
"Not that we don't look forward to seeing you," Her father interrupted, "But
it's a surprise to see you here tonight. Is everything alright love-bug?"
"Everything's fine Dad, I just needed to get some supplies from here that
weren't safe for you to post to me." Hermione smiled, walking into her mother's
open arms and hugging her. She hugged her father too, who kissed her cheek.
"Did you skip dinner Sweetheart?" Monica asked, eyeing the plates of food.
"Yes, I wanted to get here at a decent hour so we wouldn't wake you, but you
were out. You're out of Pepperoni, Prosciutto and shallots now."
Wendell laughed.
"Did you add them to the shopping list?"
"No. I was too busy eating," Hermione smiled.
"Rascal," Monica told her, "So what's going on Sweetheart, why are you here
being escorted by your teacher. You're not in some kind of trouble are you?"
"No, nothing like that," Hermione said, sitting back at the table with Snape.
Her father sat down beside the scowling wizard while her mother made hot-
chocolate on the stove. "Professor Snape is just escorting me because it's not
entirely safe for students with non-magic parents to be travelling alone right
now."
"That evil fellow you were telling us about is still on the loose then?"
Wendell asked.
"He is. Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, granted me permission to come
home and collect some of my things for school and to see you since I won't be
home for Easter…. He wanted me to have the best available person to protect me
while I did so."
Snape glanced at her to hear her compliment him and quirked an eyebrow.
"Well it's good to know you're well looked after love-bug," her father said,
"So, what is it you teach Mr Snape?"
"Potions," Snape replied, "Though this year I've been given the Defence Against
the Dark Arts position."
"That's the one they've had so much trouble keep a consistent teacher for the
job isn't it?" Monica asked from the stove.
"It is," Snape said and Hermione bit her lip when she noticed how uncomfortable
he looked to be speaking politely.
"Well then I wish you luck Mr Snape. Hermione told us there's a rumour the
position is cursed so that no one can hold the job for more than a year. At
first I thought she was just being metaphorical, but it seems she meant it
literally."
"There is an unfortunate history regarding the longevity of each person holding
the job," Snape said evasively.
"And how long have you been a teacher dear?" Monica asked, before adding, "Hot
chocolate?"
"Oh erm…"
"Trust me, you want some. Mum makes better hot chocolate than the elves,"
Hermione told him before he could refused, "Pour him a cup Mum."
"So how long was it you've been teaching?" Monica asked as she carried over the
mugs of hot chocolate, setting one in front of Snape before putting one in
front of Hermione and pressing a kiss to the top of Hermione's head and sitting
beside her.
"This is my fifteenth year," Snape told her.
"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Surely not," Wendell said, "You're far too young to have been teaching so
long."
"I took the position as Potion Master when I was twenty-one," Snape informed
them though he seemed to be having a hard time looking at either of Hermione's
parents.
"My but that's a young age to begin teaching. You must enjoy your work to have
done it for so long. I'm not sure I'd have the patience for all those
teenagers. One well-behaved teenager was enough for us," Monica said and Snape
smirked at Hermione, who blushed. "What do you think, sweet-heart? Is Professor
Snape a good teacher? I feel like we've heard his name before."
Snape watched her now, clearly waiting for her response to such a question and
Hermione fought not to roll her eyes.
"You have Mum, I wrote to you about him."
"Wait, Snape?" Wendell said suddenly snapping his fingers, "Aren't you the one
who belittles my daughter for helping her friends in class?"
"Dad," Hermione warned but Snape was already scowling.
"I am."
"Doesn't seem right to me. If she's good enough at the class to be able to help
others why do you punish her for it?" Wendell asked him, ignoring Hermione's
protests.
"Her 'help' results in her doing the work for the other students," Snape
replied coldly, "If I had wanted to assess several pieces of the same work
performed by your daughter I'd have asked for several pieces. She interferes
with the learning of others and enables them to pass rather that allowing them
to learn on their own through failure. I punish her for it because it disables
their ability to effectively learn when she loses patience with their lack of
intelligence and performs the assigned tasks for them."
"Maybe if you didn't terrify Neville and antagonize Harry and Ron I wouldn't
have to interfere with their learning," Hermione retorted, glaring at Snape.
"If they don't consistently fail, they will never work harder to pass. Which is
why you currently have to deal with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley cheating off you
and taking advantage of you rather than having them do the work themselves.
It's not your job to teach them."
"No, it's your job and you're utterly ruthless about it. You know Neville is
terrified of you, but still every lesson you glare down at him with that
expression that makes most first years wet themselves and then you say
something nasty implying that he's a complete idiot. And you wonder why he
messes things up. If I didn't help him he'd have more accidents in class than
Seamus does," Hermione argued with him.
"If you didn't help him he would be forced to make a more focused effort to
overcome his fear and achieve the marks required of him," Snape retorted.
"If you weren't so set on inter-house rivalry and so predisposed to hating
Gryffindor students, they'd be able to do better because they would be able to
focus rather than cowering from you or wanting to hex your face off."
"Those are personal weaknesses they need to overcome, not be coddled for."
"How is that a good teaching strategy? Do you know what it does to a person to
receive a failing grade on their homework?"
"I've never failed anything academically, so… No."
"You're supposed to teach them and assist them, not destroy their self-esteem!"
Hermione argued heatedly, noticing that her parents were glancing between
teacher and student with curious expressions.
"They need to grow more backbone and overcome their weaknesses. I often give
you a below perfect grade and you don't dissolve into an explosive rage or a
trembling puddle of idiot," He pointed out, a cruel smile playing at the edges
of his mouth.
"I have an over-stimulated drive to succeed and accept the challenge of working
harder for my grades. Not everyone is like me."
"Again with that inflated sense of self-worth Miss Granger," he clucked his
tongue disapprovingly, "It doesn't do to boast about your intellect when you
compare your skills academically to a collection of dunderheads."
"It doesn't do for a teacher and grown man to pit his will against several
teenage students just because he doesn't like the house they were sorted into
during first year," Hermione retorted.
"Sweetheart?" Monica interrupted before Snape could retort, clearly suspecting
he was going to say something unkind based on his angry expression, "Do you
argue with all of your teachers like this?"
"Of course not," Hermione said, still glaring at Snape, "I only argue with the
one I'm friends with."
Snape's scowled deepened at the mention of her mission again and at the idea
that she was going to interfere with his life.
"I see," Monica said and Hermione didn't miss the loaded glance her parents
shared at the idea of Hermione being friends with Snape. "Well, sweetheart, he
is still your teacher, so remember to be respectful. We don't want you getting
into trouble."
"Snape won't get me into trouble," Hermione grinned. He glared at her.
"How long are you staying love-bug?" Her father asked, changing the subject,
"It seems a little late for you to be out roaming. Doesn't Hogwarts have a
curfew?"
"It does," Snape told them, "One you are currently breaking Miss Granger. I
suggest you say your goodbyes to your parents so we can be on our way. I'm not
writing you a note to explain why you're out of bed after hours."
"Professor Dumbledore will write me one," Hermione grinned at him widely,
"Just the same sweetheart," her mother said, "We love seeing you, but you don't
want to get into trouble and it's getting late."
Hermione sighed, looking away from Snape and drinking in the sight of her
parents. She wanted to take a photo with them before leaving, one she could
keep forever, but she knew it would only cause suspicion from her parents and
issues if anyone ever found a copy of the picture in her possession.
"I will wait in the hall for you Miss Granger. Don't be long," Snape said
getting to his feet, he began to walk away before stopping and turning back to
her parents, "It was nice to meet you…"
Hermione almost snorted at how uncomfortable he looked being so polite and when
he turned away and glided out of the room her parents both looked at her
questioningly.
"He's not very good at common courtesy," Hermione told them, grinning, "Usually
he's much more obnoxious and nasty."
"Oh… does he have some kind of social impairment?" Moncia whispered to her.
"I think so," Hermione replied, "He's incredibly clever, and doesn't really
have any friends. He strikes out viciously at people to keep them away because
he was bullied as a child."
"Poor thing," Monica sighed, looking guilty for judging him.
"So what are you really here for love-bug?" her father asked her and Hermione
looked over at him, raising her eyebrows. He always could tell when she was
fibbing.
"I did have to collect a few things. The Order of the Pheonix, the one that
fights against the evil wizards, has an assignment for me…. Professor
Dumbledore wanted me to gather a few things from here and to have me see you,
just in case something happens to me," Hermione admitted.
"You're going to be in danger?" Monica asked her.
"Yes. There's a very real chance that I might never see you again," Hermione
told them both seriously, "It's dangerous and complicated, but if we succeed,
Voldemort will be vanquished for good, hopefully."
"Well, be careful sweetheart. I have every faith that you'll succeed. You're so
clever…. But promise me you'll be alright."
"I promise Mum," Hermione whispered, before biting her lip, "I'd better go…
He'll storm back in here and grumble if I take too long."
"He's an abrasive and impatient fellow, isn't he?" Wendell asked, a small smile
tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Yes."
"Smart too, though. Maybe even smarter than you love-bug."
"You like him, don't you?" Hermione smiled at her father.
"He's not exactly the handsomest man in the world," Monica smiled at her, "But
he's definitely interesting, and I've never met anyone else who can poke holes
in your logic sweetheart."
"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione laughed, "He's my teacher. You two are
looking at me like I'm seeing him or something."
"Honey, you don't talk to any of you other teachers the way you talk to him.
He's prickly and a little awkward; and you're right about that scowl. It
certainly would scare children into wetting their pants; but I've never seen
you argue with anyone the way you were arguing with him. Maybe there's nothing
there. Maybe we're imagining things, but he seems like the type of man you'd
need in your life someday sweetheart," her mother told her, smiling softly.
Hermione felt herself begin to blush at the very idea.
"He's twice my age!" Hermione protested to them when both her parents got up
and stood in front of her, smiling knowingly.
"He is," her father agreed, "but didn't you tell us that some magical folk can
live well past one hundred?"
"Well, yes…." Hermione said.
"Age doesn't matter so much when you live that long, sweetheart. All we're
saying is that if there was any predisposition between the two of you, we
wouldn't disapprove if you wanted to pursue it."
"You're getting all this from one minor argument?" Hermione demanded, perplexed
and blushing.
"One intellectual discussion, actually," Wendell said, "Sorry if we've
embarrassed you love-bug. Just telling you how it is from our view-point."
"I'm going to go back to school now," Hermione told them, shaking her head at
the very idea of anything romantic ever happening between her and Snape.
"We'll miss you honey. Be safe, and be careful."
"I will…. I'm going to miss both of you," Hermione murmured, feeling her heart
squeeze in her chest as she gave them both a hug and a kiss.
"Don't ever forget that we love you sweetheart," Monica told her, lifting her
chin and peering into her eyes for a long moment, "And no matter where you end
up, know that we'll always love you and that we couldn't be prouder of you if
we tried. You're our whole world, and nothing will ever change that."
"I love you both so much," Hermione whispered, a lump forming in her throat.
"You're our everything love-bug," her father said, tucking a stray curl behind
her ears, "You go on now. Don't want to keep you teacher waiting. Be good. Be
strong."
Hermione nodded, feeling her throat tighten even more and her hands begin to
tremble as she fought back tears. Her parents walked with her through the house
and to the front door where they found Snape waiting silently, looking bored.
He glanced at them when they stopped in front of him.
"Take care of our girl," Wendell said, offering his hand to Snape to shake.
Hermione caught the surprised expression on his face and the quick glance he
shot at her before shaking her father's hand.
"Bye Mum," Hermione whispered as she opened the door and Snape stepped out into
the night, "Bye Dad."
"Goodbye Sweetheart. We love you," Her mother told her, smiling softly as
Hermione hesitated on the doorstep. Before she could stop herself, she threw
herself into her parent's arms one last time, hugging them so tight that it
made her ribs ache. They hugged her just as tightly and when they released her,
Hermione stepped out into the darkness to where Snape was standing on the front
path.
He watched her with an unfathomable expression for a moment even as Hermione
felt a tear escape her eyes and trickle down her cheek. She jumped when he took
her hand inside his, and she squeaked in surprise when she felt a tug behind
her navel as he apparated them both away.
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