Work Text:
Time Stands Still
Howling in frustration, Hermione threw the seventieth experimental Time Turner at the wall of her office and snarled when the damn thing broke apart; the delicate hourglass inside shattering, the sand contained raining down on her floor. Three years she had been working on the new Time Turner and the closest she had gotten to a breakthrough was going back a year for a scant two minutes before landing with a jolt back in the present day.
Three years of research and experiments were about to go down the drain if she didn’t present something to the Ministry soon. She had been so certain that she would be able to prove her theory about extending the time that a Time Turner allowed the user to go back for, that she’d given herself a three-year deadline, and that was up next week!
In her enthusiasm she had not taken into account that all the Time Turners had been destroyed during the incident in her fifth year in the Department of Mysteries. She had not factored in that not only would she need to re-create the original Time Turner, but she would have to do so without the aid of books. The knowledge regarding the Time Turner had been deemed too dangerous to keep any tomes on them, and that left Hermione only able to speak to the one person who still had the knowledge – an Unspeakable who didn’t like her very much and getting the information from him had been akin to pulling teeth.
It had taken her months to get everything she needed and several more months to create a plethora Time Turners. The sand contained within the tiny hourglass was only stable because of the complex weave of spells around it. Considering she wanted to go back much longer than a standard Time Turner, Hermione had created new rings, ones that managed years, months, and days. Not only that, but Hermione had had to devise a way the Time Turner could go both forwards and backwards, not wanting to spend years at a time waiting to re-join her own timeline. That had been tricky and so far hadn’t worked since her minutes in the past were cancelled out and the Time Turner automatically sent her back when it should allow her to be in a certain time for as long as desired.
In order for Hermione to be able to manipulate how long she went back for, she had to increase the size of the hourglass, increase the amount of sand and all the while change the weave of spells to not only support the unstable sand, but also allow her to be sent back years instead of the standard twenty-four hours. Not to mention all the Time Turners she created had to have different experiments done on them when the previous one failed.
But every time she thought she was getting somewhere she would either only be able to stay in a time for a few minutes or the Time Turner would explode in her face, the spells and sand too unstable to coexist. If she didn’t present something to the Ministry in the next seven days she would be fired and be the laughingstock of the wizarding world. The famous know-it-all of the Golden Trio too big for her britches.
Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly and dropped her head to the desk with a thunk. She was exhausted, running on caffeine, spite and desperation. She gave it up as a bad job and decided she would be better able to sort through things tomorrow when she’d managed to get some sleep and could potentially come at it from another angle. Hermione flicked her wand at the lights and doused them, taking the Floo home and slipped into bed, letting her dreams carry her away for the night.
---oo0oo---
Back at her office in the morning Hermione looked at the broken pieces of the Time Turner from the previous day and sighed. She really had to stop destroying them in a pique of anger. Thankfully, she had created a number of them in preparation for the experiments, especially after she’d realised how mountainous a task this was going to be. Flicking her wand at the pieces she Vanished them and got back to work.
Four hours later and she was ready to tear her hair out in frustration. None of the spells she had researched that morning were helping her to stabilise the sand, everything she tried failed. Hermione took a break, made a cup of tea and skimmed through a book on runes when the idea struck her. It was possible that the runes could be the missing key. Spells faded over time but runes, once carved in, were set forever. Maybe if she carved some runes that held similar properties to the spells into the gold of the hourglass casing she could get further in her research. Even if it didn’t give her a fully functional Time Turner, if she could stabilise the sand and be able to go back in time for more than a few minutes she would have enough to present to the Ministry to keep herself employed a little longer.
Grabbing a couple of quills, Hermione picked up a new Time Turner and transfigured the quills into a small graver. Casting the runes would be faster but Hermione knew that chiselling the markings by hand made them more powerful, plus it meant she could layer her spells over the runes as she carved them into the gold. It took her a solid two hours to carve them all but finally she was done. Hermione flexed her fingers and groaned when the joints cracked, her hands cramping from holding the small tools so tightly for two hours.
Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. When nothing happened Hermione thought she might have finally done it. The Time Turner didn’t break, the thing didn’t explode and the sand within the hourglass swirled around beautifully, a rainbow of colours glinting through it. Hermione could have wept in joy that she had finally succeeded after so many failed attempts.
Now to test it. Hermione figured if she went back two years this time then she would avoid herself. Tracking her days was a pain in the arse but if she went back to a day when she was in the office she would end up going insane seeing herself. Hermione took a deep breath and turned the year dial twice, then set the device spinning. Because she was going back so much further than a normal Time Turner allowed the scenery around her flashed much faster than what had happened in her third year.
Moments later, the Time Turner stopped spinning and Hermione noticed things in her office had moved. Checking for certain it had worked, Hermione grabbed the Daily Prophet on her desk and checked the date. Two years prior to the date she had just been in was printed in the top right of the front page. She’d done it! The former Gryffindor could have screamed for joy! She flicked her wand at the kettle on the small stove in her office, intent on making herself a nice hot cup of tea before she set the Time Turner to send her back to her normal time.
Just as the kettle started to whistle Hermione noticed the Time Turner was behaving as it would when it sent her back to her time. “No!” She yelled. “Don’t you dare!”
But the device didn’t listen. The rings span rapidly, the Time Turner humming in her hand and growing hot until it hurt to hold it, but she dare not let it go. Hissing in pain, Hermione felt the sickening pull of Apparition, startling her and with the feeling of being squeezed through a tube, she was hauled through a vacuum, magic swirling around her. Her head pounded in agony, her hand burning as the Time Turner grew more heated, until finally, it broke apart in her hand and she was spat out of the vacuum.
Hermione fell to the ground with a cry, her vision swimming horribly and her stomach rolling, threatening to make her lose her lunch. She fought back the nausea, breathing deeply until it passed. The pounding in her head had dull to a throb, but her hand still smarted. Her hand! Hermione looked into her palm at the broken pieces of the Time Turner, grateful the hourglass was still intact, but her hand had been scorched with the imprint of the device, the skin raw and red.
She finally looked up and her eyes widened in horror. “What the fuck am I doing at Hogwarts?” She croaked.
---oo0oo---
For nearly half an hour Hermione paced restlessly, desperately trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do. She knew where she was, but she had no idea if she was still in the past or if she had returned to her own timeline and simply Apparated on instinct. She needed to find out what year it was first, or better yet, she needed to get her thoughts together. Hermione checked her wand was still in its holster, and thankfully, it was.
That was a good start. She had all the pieces of the Time Turner, another bonus, so at least she would be able to repair the device. Still, she had the conundrum of somehow getting the blasted thing to work after everything that had happened. Now to figure out when she was.
In her pacing, Hermione had failed to notice the appearance of someone behind the gates of Hogwarts. She startled horribly when the nasally voice of Mr. Filch caught her attention, the man demanding to know what she was doing there when the school year did not start for a few days.
“Erm, I was asked by Headmaster Dumbledore to meet with him. I seem to have gotten my days wrong though and arrived a day early. Would it be possible to speak with him since I am already here?” Hermione asked, hoping her voice sounded with a conviction she did not feel.
The school caretaker eyed her with distaste before finally unlocking the heavy wrought iron gates. “Come along then, girl. I’ll take you to the headmaster.”
She followed behind the grouchy man in silence, her mind desperately trying to figure out a way she was going to explain her presence outside the castle when the school year was still a few days out. Mr. Filch led her inside and provided the gargoyle with the password and the stone statue hopped out of the way to let her pass.
By the time she had made it down the passageway to Dumbledore’s office she thought she might have a reasonable and believable explanation to why she was there. However, when she was faced with the familiar man, with him grandfatherly smile in place and twinkling blue eyes her throat closed up and tears filled her eyes.
“Hello, Headmaster,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.
“Ah, Miss Granger, right on time.”
Hermione swallowed thickly. “Maybe the right place, but not the right time.”
He gestured to the chair opposite him and smiled warmly. “Indeed, you are not in your correct time at all. Nonetheless, it is a pleasure to see you.”
She gratefully accepted the tissues he offered to her and wiped her eyes. “I apologise, sir.”
Albus Dumbledore looked so much like the man she remembered, a little less wrinkled, perhaps, but most importantly, very much alive.
“Nonsense, my dear girl. Come, tell me all.”
Hermione regaled him with her mishap involving the experimental Time Turner, how it had seemed to work and then exploded, thrusting her backwards to whenever it was she may be. Seeing one of her favourite people again had her emotions all over the place, she would see him smile in that way, or that damnable twinkle would be on full watt, and she’d feel herself choking up again.
But he patiently waited for her to get herself together each time, never pressing her for more details, or growing impatient when she needed a moment to collect herself. By the time she had managed to bring him up to speed she’d sunk three cups of tea and was being poured a fourth.
“Well, Miss Granger, you are in a bit of a pickle. I take it from your rather emotional reaction that I am no longer alive in your time?”
She hesitated to respond but figured since his death hadn’t been of any disastrous event it wouldn’t be harmful to tell him. “No, Headmaster, I’m afraid that the battle against Tom Riddle took what was left of your health. You passed away here at Hogwarts, in the middle of a meeting with the professors.”
“Oh, I’m sure I was quite the inconvenience,” he chuckled.
Hermione laughed. “Indeed, there was a couple of people who were rather unimpressed with your timing.”
“Indeed. Well, to answer your unspoken question, you have landed in 1976. I think the best way for us to explain your sudden appearance here in the castle is to say you have been orphaned in the ongoing war, and as your parents did not want you to become a ward of Ministry, you have been sent here, adopted by one of the professors. You are young looking enough that you could pass for a sixth-year student. Or would you prefer to be a seventh year?”
Recalling that 1976 put Harry’s parents in sixth year she readily agreed to his plan. It would be interesting to observe them, and more importantly, Sirius Black. Sirius Black was the very reason she had been studying the Time Turner’s so fiercely. Harry had never really recovered from losing his godfather, and much as she would have liked to go back further and save his parents, their deaths were too important a part of history for her to change such an event.
But, stopping Sirius’ death would have no negative effect on their timeline, and it would bring back the Harry she had known before the man’s untimely demise at the hands of his nutcase cousin. She found herself more shocked at her lack of shock learning what year she was in, she’d expected to be panicking, or at the very least somewhat concerned, but she was unfazed by it, simply taking it in stride.
“Okay, 1976, I can work with that. What knowledge do you have of Time Turners, sir?”
“I imagine that even in your time the Time Turners are still a mystery, my girl. But I sense you are an intelligent young woman, I am certain you will figure it out in the end. Come, let’s get you settled in. Do you want to pick your House of go straight into Gryffindor?”
“How…of course, I should have known you’d know. Actually, Headmaster, I wouldn’t mind being Sorted again. Call it curiosity.”
The old wizard laughed and fetched the wrinkled hat, setting it atop her head. Hermione had always been curious of the magic on the hat. Until the hat shouted the House, everything else spoken to the student was unheard by others. Hermione took a deep breath and waited patiently for the Sorting hat to speak to her once again.
“Oh, this is a surprise, indeed! It is not often that I get the opportunity to Sort a student again. Welcome back to Hogwarts, Miss Granger. I see so many of the traits I will see in you when you first come to Hogwarts, and yet so many new ones. The drive to prove something, not yourself, but something, the fierce way you protect your friends, loyalty. But, a darkness surrounds you, Miss Granger, where you were once carefree and filled with light, you stand now filled with so much sorrow. A heart as bright as yours should not be so dark and heavy. You have seen the side of the lion’s den, now I think you might be better suited to the snake’s pit.”
Hermione gasped in shock but before she could open her mouth, the hat screamed, “Slytherin!”
---oo0oo---
The start of the school year in 1976 was just the same in its raucousness as it was when she had attended Hogwarts in her own timeline. She was seated at the Slytherin table, between a Sirius Black lookalike that she guessed must be Regulus Black, and a sneering Severus Snape, her future feared Potions Professor.
Regulus had already asked her a few questions, small ones that were easily answered. The headmaster had said it was fine for her to use her real name, the likelihood of someone recognising her in her timeline from this one was slim. She could not tell him about Professor Snape for fear it would change something, the man was so integral to the future she dare not do anything to jeopardise him in any way.
She watched the Sorting with vague interest, but her gaze kept sliding back to the dark eyed man at her side. A sixteen-year-old Severus Snape was…odd. She was used to the tall, sneering, domineering man who was feared and reviled by the entirety of Hogwarts. But this young man, this teenager, seemed similar and yet entirely different all at the same time.
Suddenly his gaze shot to her, and his eyes narrowed in distaste. “What are you staring at?” He growled.
Hermione flushed red. “Sorry, you…remind me of someone I knew. I’m sorry if I caused any offence.”
Snape stared a moment longer then nodded at her once, turning his attention back to the Sorting. Regulus once again drew her back into conversation. “Normally when we get someone new, even if they’re not a first year, they join the Sorting Ceremony. Why were you here beforehand?”
Mentally rehearsing everything shed and Dumbledore had talked about she responded to him. “Well, to cut a long story short, my parents were killed in an attack and instead of me becoming a ward of Ministry, my parents had a will in place that left me a ward of Professor McGonagall instead.”
Grey eyes stared into hers, as if assessing whether he found her story to be true and Hermione prayed he was not using Occlumency on her, her shields were less than brilliant lately. In the end, Snape nudged her shoulder and she turned to him. “I am sorry that you lost your parents.”
“Why were they attacked?” Regulus asked her.
They had discussed at length about her hiding being a Muggleborn from the House she had been Sorted into, but she made so many Muggle references without thinking about it that it would be very hard for her to explain why she was so knowledgeable about the Muggle world when she was portraying herself a Pureblood.
Hermione bit her lip, letting her eyes fall down to her lap in a show of fear. “My parents were Muggles,” she whispered.
Even though she had whispered it, several of her housemates swung their heads around to stare at her in disbelief. She could hear the whispers already, how did a Muggleborn make it into Slytherin, and maybe her parents were killed by Death Eaters, combined with I can’t believe a Mudblood made it into Slytherin.
She had known it was going to be tough being the only Muggleborn to have ever made it into Slytherin, well, that had at least admitted to being a Muggleborn anyway, but she raised her eyes back to Regulus then to her other side at Snape and found neither of their expressions were what she had been expecting.
Where had envisioned seeing Snape sneering and Regulus indifferent, but both of them looked at her with a tinge of interest and…was that sympathy, or maybe pity, in Regulus’ eyes? How had this man become a follower of Voldemort when he could show pity for a Muggleborn, something which Voldemort professed to hate? Then again, Severus Snape had fallen in love with a Muggleborn witch and was already considering joining the darkest wizard since Gellert Grindelwald.
“I would be very careful how many people you let know that.”
Hermione glanced at Snape and nodded. “Of course, but I’m pretty sure the entire House just heard me.”
“Slytherin takes care of its own, and while the entire House likely now knows of your status, there are those outside of Slytherin who would see you as a weak link in the House and use you to create problems,” Snape murmured.
“Problems for you?”
“No,” he sneered. “For you.”
“Hermione Granger,” she said, shaking each of their hands.
“Regulus Black, my brother is in Gryffindor.”
“Severus Snape.”
“Pleasure to meet you, boys,” she chuckled, giving her attention back to the Sorting Ceremony just as it came to a close. Across the tables, she spied a very young Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter and Lily Evans watching her. The smaller, portlier boy must be Peter Pettigrew. The former three watched her with curiosity, Lily with barely concealed dislike and Pettigrew with blatant distaste. How interesting!
---oo0oo---
Two days of lessons after going to bed late from the Sorting Ceremony running so long had really caught up with her by the time Friday night rolled around. She crawled into her bed and quickly stuck silencing charms up so she could sleep, but also to make sure no one heard her cries. Since she’d been stuck in 1976 her nightmares had returned full force and once already Narcissa Black had woken her up, albeit gently, when she’d started screaming.
Saturday meant that she would be able to sleep in a little, and then she needed to get to work on repairing the Time Turner and get back to her own timeline before she did something that could affect the time she came from. So far there had been no mishaps and she wanted to keep it that way, but every day that she spent here she was risking everything.
Just as she closed her eyes her curtains rustled and the face of Narcissa appeared in the gap. “Granger, some of us are going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, would you like to join us?”
Blinking tiredly, Hermione nodded. “So long as it’s not before ten I’m in.”
The youngest Black sister smiled and nodded, pulled the curtains shut again and Hermione fell asleep the very moment her head touched the pillow. Her entire night was fraught with dreams of the war, the blood drenching the grass outside Hogwarts, the bodies littering the grounds, and the screams and sobs of people around her as they found their loved ones no longer alive.
She saw Lavender Brown, her throat torn open by Greyback, and Ron holding her head in his lap, begging her to open her eyes. She saw Percy, eyes open, staring sightlessly while Molly Weasley screamed in misery. Remus Lupin and Dora Tonks holding hands, even in death. So many dead, so many lives lost.
Then she saw the rush of green light as it sped towards Harry, his body crumpling to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his green eyes closed. Her heart shattering in realisation her best friend had been killed and nothing was going to bring him back. The elation she felt when he was back but never the same, those bright, expressive green eyes so dull and lifeless, his body wasting away after the war was over and he wandered aimlessly through Grimmauld Place, his screams in sleep for Sirius to come back
Hermione jolted awake with a cry and sat up, gasping for breath. A quick Tempus revealed it was early morning, the sun would barely be up. She knew she wasn’t going to get back to sleep now – so much for a lie in. Scrubbing her hands over her face, Hermione rose and showered, heading out of the dormitory and into the common room. She was still unsettled by the dark common room decked out in black marble, the place was cold and uninviting but at the same time, it was warm with its roaring fire and welcoming with the plush sofas spread across the room.
She spied a pair of large armchairs by the fire and gravitated toward them, surprised to find Snape occupying one of them, his dark eyes trained on the flickering flames, the orange reflecting eerily in the black depths of his eyes. “Good morning,” she called softly, sitting in the other armchair.
His eyes didn’t shift but a minute nod of his head let her know she’d been heard. The pair sat in silence for a while, one staring at the flames and the other staring at the boy before her. Eventually, Snape stopped looking at the fire and glanced over at her, his eyes narrowing when he saw she was looking directly at him. “What?” He snapped.
“Sorry, like I said, you remind me of someone.”
He sneered nastily at her. “While I may resemble someone in looks I can assure you that I do not resemble them in personality. Leave me alone, Granger.”
Hermione bit back a snort and wondered what he would think he if knew he was exactly the person she reminded him of. Seeing Severus Snape as a teenager was equal parts weird and intriguing. “I apologise, s-Snape. I was fond of the person you remind me of, it’s a little hard to not stare when the resemblance is so strong. Why are you awake at the crack of dawn?”
Thin lips curled in distaste. “None of your business. Why are you awake?”
Brown eyes dulled in sadness and looked away from him. “Nightmares.”
Looking back at him she saw his eyes flicker with understanding. “Troublesome things, they are.”
He said nothing further and rose from his chair, casting a glance at her then departing without a sound. Able to watch his retreating back gave her a quick opportunity to see how slim he really was, his waist trim, his shoulders a little broad but the bones stuck out at angles, the shirt just a little too tight while the trousers hung low on his hips, as if too big for him. She was momentarily reminded of Harry in his second hand clothes passed down from his cousin and she remembered her friend telling her that Snape had come from a poor family, his father a Muggle, his mother a witch. The former a drunkard bully and the latter never standing up for herself, or her son. Her heart ached for him.
“Have a good day,” she called after him, seeing him falter in his steps a moment before continuing out of the common room into the dungeon corridor.
“Awake already, Granger?” Narcissa’s voice called. “Come on, breakfast will start soon and then we can head to Hogsmeade.”
Supressing a sigh, Hermione got to her feet and followed the pretty young woman out of the dungeons and up to the Great Hall for breakfast. Eating, she found the familiar Gryffindors staring at her unashamedly. Lily was looking over but her eyes seemed trained on the dark haired boy at her side, Snape. She remembered then that they were in sixth year, which meant that Snape had already called her a Mudblood and lost her friendship.
“Pay them no mind.”
Hermione startled and looked at Snape. “Sorry?”
“Them lot, ignore them, they will grow bored. They are only curious because you’re new, you’re in Slytherin and you’re willingly talking to me.”
She blinked at him. “What has talking to you got to do with anything?”
His dark eyes lit with misery a second and was gone the next. “You’ll find out soon enough, I imagine.”
Hermione didn’t have time to question the statement, even though she knew the answer, because Narcissa was dragging her off, a few of the other girls from Slytherin following them. It wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend but as sixth years they were offered more freedoms than the younger years. She walked the path in silence with Narcissa, none of the group speaking until they reached the village. “Come, let’s shop then we can have a real chat.”
Never before had Hermione been on such a shopping trip, the girls dragged her from place to place, never asking why she purchased nothing except for books, but none of them seemed hostile towards her, which was surprising given her blood status. When it came time for their ‘chat’, Hermione steeled herself, prepared for the niceness to disappear.
“I’m sure you’ve learned by now, Granger, that Muggleborns are not welcomed easily within Slytherin. Do you know why that is?” Narcissa asked.
Hermione stared back into cool, assessing blue eyes without fear. “I know exactly why, Narcissa.”
“You do? And yet you haven’t sought to change House?”
“No, why would I?”
Narcissa raised an elegantly plucked eyebrow in surprise. “I have no doubt the reason your parents were targeting is because they were Muggles, and because you are Muggleborn.”
Snorting, Hermione stared at her. “Naturally, I am quite sure Lord Voldemort stamped them out because of exactly that. I am fully aware of who killed my parents, Narcissa. And I am fully aware that many of his supporters have graduated from the House I am part of. But I will not be bullied into leaving where I belong. The Sorting hat saw fit to put me in Slytherin, for whatever reason, so maybe it saw something you haven’t, yet.”
The dark haired girl considered her words before a tilt of her lips belied a smile. “Perhaps. I like you, Granger. Much better than that ridiculous Muggleborn red haired girl Severus always puttered about with.”
Hermione feigned ignorance. “The Gryffindor girl?”
“Yes, she and Severus were inseparable until the end of last year, she was always trailing after him, and he followed her like a damn puppy. We never said an unkind word against her, but she always made sure Severus knew she disliked us. She claimed he was her best friend but while she stood up to those fucking bullies, she never really stopped them either.”
She saw Narcissa pale at her words and Hermione hastened to settle her. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word, I promise. I already gathered that Snape is a very private person, he won’t know I know, I swear it.”
Something significant had just happened then. Hermione had cemented her place amongst the Slytherins with those few words, proving her loyalty to her House, even though the girl they had been disparaging was Muggleborn, same as Hermione. She had also proven that blood status didn’t mean everything or she would have defended the girl who was in the same boat as her.
When they returned to the castle it was time for lunch and Hermione found herself seated between Regulus and Snape once again. Her Saturday so far had been pleasant and Narcissa must have said something to their housemates because more of them were drawing her into conversation. Hermione learned that Snape was still in school with many of the people she knew would become Death Eaters, and loyal ones at that.
She knew that Regulus would defect not long after graduating and steal the real locket of Slytherin, and be later killed, though not for the theft. It saddened her to know that he and Sirius would never rekindle their brotherly relationship but knew she could not try to do so. Even though finding the real locket when Harry would visit the cave would be great, the risk of what else it could change was far too high.
Hermione noticed Severus was more withdrawn than usual, his ever-present sneer absent for a change. “Is something wrong?” She murmured to him so as not to be overheard.
Black eyes flickered to her a moment before resuming his dark stare at his food. “Nothing worth worrying about, Granger.”
“Hermione,” she gently prompted.
The young man nodded to her but did not invite her to use his name. “I…had some trouble with some members of Gryffindor.”
“The ones who are staring right now?”
His head shifted to look up and he nodded slightly. “Yes.”
“Why were they bothering you?”
Snape eyed her carefully. “I…do not wish to discuss it.”
“Okay,” Hermione said, smiling at him. “I’ll leave you to your meal. It was nice talking with you.”
He seemed to stare at her disbelief before rising from his seat, pausing long enough to tip his head at her and walking away from the table. Hermione saw Remus and Sirius watching Snape, a smirk twisting the latter’s lips. Her eyes caught wand movement and she surreptitiously rotated her wrist so her wand slipped from its holster to her hand and she cast a shield around Snape’s retreating back. Whatever had been cast didn’t hit and Sirius’ eyes narrowed, shooting to her.
Hermione raised her goblet to him and drank deeply, noting the way her housemates all chuckled at her antics, some of them seemingly aware of what she had done. Regulus drew her back into conversation and she allowed herself to drift between talks, wondering how so many of these people could fall so far into Voldemort’s hands when they welcomed a Muggleborn so easily. Maybe it was because she defended one of their own, or maybe they came from just as broken childhood’s as Snape did. Whatever the reason, it hurt her heart.
---oo0oo---
Come Monday she was called to the Headmaster’s office at lunch, the man presenting her with a key. “It was remiss of me not to give you this sooner. Professor McGonagall has arranged for a vault for you and we have placed enough galleons in there for you for the time being. If you need more you need only ask, none of us have any idea how long you will be stuck here. Professor McGonagall is aware of your predicament and will act with the utmost discretion, though I believe she will want a chat with you at some point.”
Hermione nodded and gratefully accepted the key. Her shopping trip today had wiped out what funds she had and she’d been pondering how she was going to be able to purchase things. “I will, of course, pay Professor McGonagall back in my timeline.”
“You will do nothing of the sort, Miss Granger,” the familiar thick brogue came from behind her.
“Hello Professor,” she said with a smile.
Minerva McGonagall looked very different to how she did in Hermione’s timeline, her wrinkles were less pronounced, not battle hardened from two wars like when Hermione knew her. She didn’t limp, a slicing hex from Dolohov had left her struggling to walk properly. This woman had influenced her life so much in her years at Hogwarts, and even beyond.
“I’m sure my future self is most confused as to how I suddenly became an adoptive mother,” the Head of Gryffindor said with a chuckle.
Unable to stop herself, Hermione rose from her seat and rushed the woman, hugging her tightly. “I have to be honest, I thought for sure you wouldn’t go near me since I was put in Slytherin this time around.”
McGonagall embraced her warmly. “Of course not, child. Your House does not define who you are, Miss Granger. Come, I’m sure we much to discuss.”
They talked through lunch and Hermione ended up missing Charms, though Professor McGonagall wrote her an exception note. She attended Potions on time and forgot for a moment that she would not be faced with Snape’s voluminous robes, but instead the portly wizard known as Horace Slughorn – her Head of House.
The man was impressed with her talents, giving Slytherin numerous points and putting them well into the lead on House points. And that was the way all her lessons went. Hermione’s grasp on magic was strong because of her age and she realised she was going to need to dial it back a little or she would start finding herself with less friends. But unlike the Gryffindors, Hermione was praised for her knowledge and she wondered if this is what being in Ravenclaw would be like.
Days turned into weeks and her friendship with Regulus, Narcissa and Snape grew. Regulus enjoyed her sharp humour, Narcissa was rather fond of the way Hermione would always gravitate toward book stores whenever they went shopping and Snape had almost smiled at her several times, his lips twitching in mirth when she pulled a Gryffindor up short for making snide comments when they passed by.
She had quickly made enemies of the group who’d been tormenting Severus. It seemed that any chance they got to attack him, they did so. Hermione could openly state that Severus was sometimes to blame when he would provoke them, but often times they antagonised the Slytherin boy without cause. Every time she caught one of them trying to hex Snape she blocked them until it came to a head and they cornered her alone in a corridor.
“The fuck are you playing at, Granger?” Potter demanded, his arm in front of her and blocking her way past.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hermione said, keeping her posture relaxed and unafraid.
“Wherever Snape is, you’re there, always defending him. It’s rather pathetic. I bet the second he learned a Muggleborn was helping him, he’d turn on you.”
Hermione laughed coldly and folded her arms over her chest, her brown eyes on Lily just behind him. “Oh, I’m sorry, I seem to have lost the last fuck I had to give. And not that it is one iota of your business, but even if he was unhappy with me defending him, I would continue to do so because if there is one thing I despise, it’s a bully!”
Someone snorted and she noticed Remus fighting a smirk at her first words, the smirk quickly sliding off his face when she’d finished. Lily was tugging on Potter’s arm, trying to get him to come away and leave. “Get off, Lils! Stay out of our way, Granger.”
“Hmm, no, I don’t think I will. See, I have a really big problem with bullies, like really big problem. I don’t like them, and every last one of you is a fucking bully. Leave Snape alone, he’s done bugger all to any of you.”
Lily’s green eyes so like Harry’s locked on hers. “You don’t know what he’s done. He’s not who you think he is, Granger. Severus has…a temper.”
Biting back a snort, Hermione stared at her. “Right, he has a temper. And what is this guy doing right now?” Hermione jerked her thumb at James Potter. “Having a temper tantrum because I won’t let any of you hex a boy behind his back. And you,” she said, pointing at Remus. “I might not have seen you do anything but standing back and doing nothing is just as bad as being the one doing the bullying. Disgraceful, the lot of you. Gryffindor is meant to represent bravery, but all I see are a bunch of cowards so afraid to actually fight fair, they instead hex when their opponent’s back is turned.”
Hermione shoved Potter back and he stumbled over Lily, giving her chance to slip past and dash away. She wasn’t afraid, and she knew she could easily duel all of them and win, but she was meant to be a sixteen-year-old Muggleborn who shouldn’t know as much magic as she did. Thankfully, just like when she had first arrived at Hogwarts, it had been easy to explain she just had a natural affinity for magic and it came easily to her.
If anyone found out the real reason she was so good at magic was not because she was really a twenty-one-year-old witch from the future, but because she’d had to do truly powerful and dark magic in the middle of a war that had claimed the lives of so many of her friends. She was rather sure that even some of the Slytherins would shy away from some of the things she had done.
---oo0oo---
Before she knew it, three months had passed and Christmas was almost upon them. It occurred to her that she had still not done anything with the Time Turner, and guilt ate at her knowing she could be doing untold damage befriending the Slytherins, and yet, she couldn’t quite bring herself to go work on it.
Hermione had done her Christmas shopping, and quite a feat it had been, given the shopping fiend Narcissa was and her near constant demands to know what had been bought, and hoped her gifts were well received. She was not buying for her usual friends and she had struggled to get the Slytherins she had come to call friends that they would appreciate.
Christmas was always a joyous time for her and she figured that it was not so much for Snape. She imagined he didn’t go home during the holidays and would remain in the castle like she would be doing, though for an entirely different reason to her, and she was not mistaken. Narcissa and the other had already left, and Hermione had been sure to make certain her housemates had their presents packed with them.
There had been nothing passed to her in return, and she had not expected anything, but she was hopeful that they at least liked what she had bought them. The days in the lead up to the big day saw Severus and Hermione spending their days oscillating between reading in the library and walking around the Black Lake. Sometimes they would stop and make snow angels, or snowmen, and Hermione would charm them to life, having snowball battles with them.
It had taken her some time to pull Snape from his rigid self-control and join in with the frivolity, but eventually she had managed it, and many an evening they had returned to the castle with red noses, frozen fingers, one grinning from ear to ear, and the other sporting a less sneer-like smile. It was perhaps Hermione’s happiest Christmas to memory and she had no doubt it would be the same for her friend.
On Christmas Eve, Hermione had burst into the common room with a shrunken tree and they decorated it together, the two of them opting to sleep underneath its branches, the charmed lights glinting softly in the low firelight, reminding Hermione of starlight. Sometime in the night their hands hand crept closer and Hermione and Snape woke at the same time, their fingers linked together. He had not immediately pulled away as she had braced herself for, instead her hand was gently squeezed and then released.
Hermione had been warmed to learn that a small pile of presents sat beneath the tree for her, and a separate pile for Snape. There were books on her favourite subjects, a lovely gown from Narcissa for the ball that would be held at the New Year, some jewellery from some of the boys (a little garish for her tastes but she appreciated the sentiment nonetheless) and even some presents from a couple of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs she had befriended, despite her House.
She watched as Snape found his last present, a large, heavy box. The young wizard grunted under the weight of it as he hauled it out from under the tree. “What the hell is it, rocks?” He grumbled, snorting when he found no label on it.
Biting back a smirk she shrugged when he looked at her, her face adopting a look of pure innocence and curiosity, as if she had no idea what was in the box. It was a purchase far outside what she had been given by Professor McGonagall but she had promised that back in her timeline, should would repay the Gryffindor Head of House for her kindness and generosity.
Snape opened the box and she revelled in seeing the gleam in his dark eyes as he gazed at the set of crystal cauldrons. They were rare and pricey, and Hermione knew that he would need them to invent the Wolfsbane potion, but that wasn’t the reason she had purchased them. Snape’s love for experimenting with potions was unparalleled and she wanted him to be able to start sooner, and crystal cauldrons were able to help stabilise even the most volatile of potions without affecting the integrity of the potion or making it poisonous from causing the ingredients to coexist when they would otherwise explode.
He looked at her and she was unable to contain her grin. “Merry Christmas, Severus,” she whispered.
Her future Potions Professor gave her a smile so warm and filled with wonder that her heart actually sped up. “Merry Christmas, Hermione,” he said, summoning a parcel.
She took it with a smile and unwrapped it, gasping softly at the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. A tear drop onyx wrapped with vines of silver dangled from a delicate chain, the stone was as dark as Severus’ eyes, the light reflected off every faucet of it. Hermione fastened it around her neck and rushed him, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you!”
“I hope it is not too forward, in wizarding culture one usually buys a piece of jewellery for someone they are intending to court, but I saw it and even though we have no intention of courting, I knew it would suit you.”
Hermione smiled. “Well, I’m Muggleborn so even friends can buy someone jewellery. I love it, Severus.”
His cheeks had pinked since she had kissed him and Hermione’s heart gave a weird flip in her chest. The Christmas feast was just as fun as opening presents and it was the most relaxed Hermione had ever seen Snape. By the time evening came Hermione was exhausted from smiling so much, and when the two of them crawled under the tree again, Hermione forgot to erect her silencing charms, and it was the first time she had slept peacefully, with Snape at her side.
---oo0oo---
Her friendship with Snape had grown, and she had continued to use his given name since she had done so, uninvited, at Christmas and had not been asked to stop. They studied together, sat with him in lessons, or Regulus if they didn’t share a lesson, and had taken to spending most of their spare time together. It became quickly known that where one was, the other would not be far behind.
Severus had learned of her defending him and though he had been angered by it at first, he had calmed down in the end and seen that it was not her doing it because she believed him weak, but because she didn’t believe in hexing someone behind their back. However, with her defending him, the Gryffindors stepped up their attacks to the point that even the Hufflepuffs had started calling them out on their bullshit.
Hermione was on her way to lunch when Lily grabbed her and tugged her into an alcove. “You really should stop hanging around with Severus, Granger.”
Rolling her eyes, Hermione shifted her weight onto one foot and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “What the hell is your problem, Evans? What has my being friends with Severus got to do with you?”
Green eyes narrowed in annoyance at Hermione’s words. “Believe me, he’s not the kind of person you think he is.”
Snorting, Hermione folded her arms over her chest, trying to keep herself calm. “And what kind of person do I think he is, Evans? So far, all Severus has shown me is kindness. Even when he was indifferent to me, when I first started here, he was never unkind to me.”
“Well, it’s obvious you like him, and you might think he’s kind and friendly but he’s not. Severus is malicious, cruel and very unkind.”
Oh, if you only knew, Evans, if you only knew, Hermione thought. “Severus is only malicious, cruel and unkind when he’s provoked. He’s snippy and short-tempered but if you bother to take the time to get to know him he can be kind and generous.”
“I did know him, Granger. Severus and I were best friends before we even came to Hogwarts. I live near him, and we used to meet in the park between our houses. We’ve spent entire summers together, and it was Severus who first made me see that the freakish things I could do were actually perfectly normal. We got our letters at the same time and we were both excited. We got Sorted into separate Houses, and Severus was so quick to assume that our friendship would be destroyed, but we remained friends, even if his housemates spewed blood superiority comments whenever I was in earshot.”
Hermione knew the tale well but was curious how Evans would see it. She had always thought her reaction over Severus’ mistake was rather dramatic and unnecessary. “So, what happened to change all that?”
Familiar eyes saddened. “I was used to being called a Mudblood when I learned what it meant, it was a common slur used but Severus never did. Until he did.”
The Gryffindor seemed to be waiting for some dramatic gasp from Hermione, and when none came her posture became more closed off.
“He called you a Mudblood? I find it hard to believe that he did so unprovoked. As I already said, Severus only lashes out defensively. Let me guess, Potter and his cohorts were bullying him again? What did they do that time?”
Evans looked down at the ground and cleared her throat. “Look, I know they can be too much sometimes and I admit they went too far, but it doesn’t excuse what he called me.”
“Right, and them calling him Snivellus is alright, is it? The way I see it, Evans, you were a shitty friend to Severus.”
“I was not!” The girl yelled, her face flushing in anger. “I did my best to remain friends with him! I defended him every time they started on him. If I’d known what James and Sirius were going to do to him I’d have stopped it! I had no idea they were going to use his own spell against him and expose him to everyone there! I know he was embarrassed and upset but that still does not excuse what he called me!” She finished, screaming.
Temper snapping, Hermione unfolded her hands and took a step toward the smaller girl, her hair crackling with her magic. “Listen her, Evans. You were a shitty friend to him, and I’ll tell you why. Severus was humiliated in front of probably his entire year group if not more, he had his own spell used against him, and had his underwear, or worse, exposed. He was rescued by a friend and in his embarrassment and hurt he lashed out at his rescuer. He was wrong to do it but it is understandable. Severus is very proud and believes others look down on him for not having the money that the other Pureblood’s do. And, I assume from your current attitude toward him, you refused to forgive him? Because knowing Severus as I do, the moment he calmed down he would have tried to apologise.”
Taking a step back in shock, Evans withdrew her wand and Hermione laughed in her face. The younger witch looked wild-eyed at her. “No apology would make me forgive such a thing! He knew how I felt at being called that word and he used it anyway!”
Her own wand slid into her hand with a practised move. “That’s where you and I differ, Evans. When I was fifteen, a boy cursed my teeth to grow and someone I liked and respected told me they saw no difference. I’d always been self-conscious about my teeth because I’d always had buck teeth. I was hurt at first but later, I forgave them for it, and later still, they apologised for it. It was a moment of cruelty that was said in a second of poor judgement.”
“You…you forgave them?”
Laughing coldly, Hermione nodded at sneered at her. “Yes, I forgave them. People say things in poor judgement, but if they apologise it means they regret it. If Severus hadn’t apologised I would have understood your reticence to forgive him. But, it sounds as though you were the one who was too proud. At least Severus had the balls to apologise for what he did, but you, on the other hand, decided that an apology and show of remorse were not enough and that you deserved more.”
Not sticking around to hear her response, Hermione turned on her heel and strode off, intent on finding Severus and spending time with him. She didn’t see Severus in the alcove next to them, a contemplative expression on his face, his dark eyes watching his once best friend leave and wondering for a moment if she had ever really been deserving of his friendship.
---oo0oo---
Something had changed in her friendship with Severus and she had no idea what. The young man was warmer than ever toward her, and openly thanked her when she deflected any spells sent at him from the Gryffindors. She never asked for it, and always did it in a way that no one else ever saw, knowing that Severus was a private person and seemed to see anyone defending him openly as a weakness on his part.
Now, he seemed calmer about it and that seemed to only incense the group more. Except now she had become a target for them too and Hermione found herself having to thank Severus for shielding her in return. Another thing that had changed was Hermione found herself seeking Severus’ company even when there was no need, not even to read, she simply found his presence soothing. When her nightmares grew too much she would retreat to the common room and find Severus already there, as if waiting for her, and they would fall asleep together on the couch.
Not one person in their House said anything about it the first time they’d been stumbled upon, and when it happened repeatedly, Narcissa had only commented that Severus could do worse, as if unconcerned that Hermione was growing ever closer to the surly Slytherin. It was only after even Regulus had joked that he wouldn’t get a chance to her himself that she realised it – she was falling in love with Severus.
This young Severus who was hardened from bullying and a terrible childhood, who made friendships so little but when he did, he treasured them. Sometimes he would carry her bookbag, or he would return from a trip to Hogsmeade with a book that she had mentioned wanting, and it made her love him that little bit more. A brief discussion with Narcissa had shown her that Severus was subtly courting her without coming outright and saying anything.
When she asked the girl why, Narcissa had looked at her sadly. “In case you need to deny you’re involved with him, to save yourself from ridicule should you be queried on the dynamics of your friendship.”
Hermione had been horrified and realised that Severus had likely asked Lily Evans to allow him to court her, and the Gryffindor had probably faced taunts from her housemates over it. She wondered if that had been the start of their friendship becoming strained.
---oo0oo---
Evans had spotted the necklace the night of the New Year Ball and it was then she had never before more fiercely defended her friendship with her fellow Slytherin. She had spent hours getting ready and she was reminded of the night of the Yule Ball during her fourth year. Instead of dousing her head in Sleak-Eazy, she had instead opted to tame her wild curls with magic, getting them to at least lose their usual frizz and hang in thick ringlets around her head, the heavy curls tumbling down her back.
She’d painted her nails a blue so dark it looked black, her toes matching. The gown Narcissa had gifted her for Christmas was dark blue, dotted with little gems that caught the light whenever she turned. The dress was low-cut while not revealing anything, the material stretched across her chest to wrap around her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. The cinched waist accentuated her curves, the thick material fall down her legs, the skirt flared. Her feet were encased in strapped black heels, charmed to not let her over balance lest she fall flat on her face like an idiot.
Her necklace from Severus adorned her neck, a matching pair of earrings, sans the silver detail, loaned to her from Narcissa, hung from her ears. The dress fell around her legs in a swirl of material, and looking in the mirror, she’d never felt more beautiful than she did right then. That was, until she’d appeared in the Great Hall and Severus had seen her, his eyes widening in shock and unable to look away.
She, too, found herself momentarily unable to tear her eyes away from the impressive figure he cut when dressed to the nines. His hair was freshly washed, the strands pulled away from his face and tied at the nape of his neck, exposing his strong cheekbones and dark eyes. His torso encased in a white dress shirt, black waistcoat and long robe, combined with black, tailored trousers that hugged hips and thighs. His shoes looked new and extremely shiny. She suspected Narcissa had taken him shopping, or rather, she had forced him out under pain of death.
Regulus, Mulciber, Avery and Nott all danced with her, each of them behaving like a perfect gentleman, and when she asked Severus to dance, she was pleasantly surprised when he agreed. His hand held hers in a warm, dry grip, the other on her waist, the heat seeping through the material of her dress. He moved her around the floor with ease, his feet never stepping on her toes, his fingers never straying and all the while, his eyes bored into hers, her own gaze never wavering for a second.
She knew her cheeks were flushed, his eyes glittering in the light, both of them so completely absorbed in one another that Hermione was certain Voldemort could have beaten down the doors of Hogwarts and neither of them would have noticed. When the song ended she mourned the loss of his company when Narcissa drew him away for a dance of her own, leaving Hermione stood in the middle of the floor when an incensed Lily Evans entered her field of vision, her green eyes ablaze with fury.
“You’re going to get hurt.”
Hermione raised a brow at her. “Really? Do you plan on being the one to cause me injury?” She asked, her lips twisting into a sneer at the self-righteous Gryffindor.
“Did he give you that necklace?” She spat.
Hermione touched the onyx pendant hanging on her chest. “Indeed he did, it’s rather beautiful isn’t it?”
Evans sneered at her, her pretty face twisting nastily. “He gave me a necklace too, you know. Pretty thing, tourmaline, like my eyes, he said. I guess he always gives one to someone he thinks he can bed.”
The laugh Hermione gave was nasty and a few people passing around them gave her a worried look, especially Narcissa. “Oh, it must burn you to know he moved on, mustn’t it? You must have given him reason to believe he could bed you one day, if that’s what you think. I wonder what Potter would think if his pretty princess learned that you would have been willing?”
Her face reddened again in her rage. “I would never have slept with him!” She hissed.
“Oh? So, what, you were leading him on? Letting him think he had a chance? You’re pathetic, Evans. Grow up. Severus isn’t a plaything, he isn’t a toy for you to amuse yourself with. I care about him, and it pisses you off he isn’t trailing around anymore desperate for your friendship. He did everything he could to apologise and you wouldn’t hear it. Of course he moved on from you. Get out of my way or I will ensure you know just how fucking nasty I can get when I feel threatened.”
The Gryffindor backed away a few steps and when Severus appeared at her side, his dark eyes staring coldly at Evans, she realised she was beat and slinked off. Severus danced with her for the last song of the night, holding her just that little bit closer.
“Are you alright?”
“Of course I am, Severus.”
“She told you about the necklace I gave her.”
It wasn’t a question but Hermione answered anyway. “She did. Severus, it’s clear as day that you were in love with her, and I’m sorry that she couldn’t let go of her stupid pride for your mistake. Because that’s all it was – a mistake.”
His fingers left her waist as the song ended and touched the pendant at her chest. “I was,” he admitted and Hermione knew he’d never told a soul that bar Dumbledore, much later in life, that was. “She was…special to me. But, I find myself no longer missing her company. Thank you, Hermione, for being the friend I needed.”
Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek again. “No, Severus, I am the friend that you deserve to have. And I always will be, no matter what happens.”
---oo0oo---
In the time that had passed since her arrival she had worked little on the Time Turner and her heart hurt at the thought of having to return to her own timeline without their friendship. But much as she wanted to stay, she had to go. Because the longer she was there, the more damage she could do to the future. She had not factored in how many people she would be interacting with now that she would also do so in the future and the chances she had already changed some things made her break out in a cold sweat.
When her housemates fell asleep she would slip off to the Room of Requirement and work on her Time Turner. It took her several nights to rebuild the device and she was at least able to use it for its normal purposes if she needed to, but she still had the issue of the instability of it. She’d asked the Room of Requirement to give her all the books available on Time Turners and time magic but nothing she had found helped her fix the device.
She knew the runes were part of the answer but not the whole solution. There had to be a way she could stabilise them that the Time Turner would work with no adverse effects. Dumbledore had, unfortunately, been little help and his ideas, though clever, had already been tried by herself and she already knew they failed.
Why were the runes so unstable when used together? They were ones that should coexist easily, none of them had any effects that would counteract each other, it didn’t make any sense! Her fingers unconsciously touched the pendant hanging against her chest, her fingertips tracing the vine like patterns.
She could feel something between the twisted, thin pieces of silver, something on the stone. She’d thought it smooth but when held up to the light she could see runes on it. Protective runes, healing runes, power runes, ones that should not be able to coexist together, and yet they did. Had Severus bought it that way or had he put the runes on it? Maybe it was worth asking him.
After a fortnight working on it, Hermione was at her wits end and running on nothing but caffeine. Which was probably what led her to the fateful night of Severus being tricked into going to Shrieking Shack except, it wasn’t him that was tricked – it was her. In her time there she had not factored in just how much she had been changing things, her friendships with her fellow Slytherins, the Gryffindor bunch targeting her just as much as Severus, perhaps more so now. No part of her had considered that her being there had had sped things up. When the night she had expected to happen near the end of the school year happened just as spring began, Hermione found herself unprepared and terrified for her life.
---oo0oo---
Stepping up their antics was a foregone conclusion and Hermione knew she should have been better on her guard more and to expect some sort of nasty retaliation. She already knew of Remus’ Furry Little Problem and had been carefully steering Severus away from finding out why the boy was always so tired once a month, and excused from lessons.
Hermione reminded him that there could be any number of conditions that did that to him and that it was not his business to sniff it out. In all the times she had spent in keeping Severus away from Remus’ issue, she had left herself open to attack, and that is what led to her being cornered by Sirius Black in a corridor that lacked traffic, curfew almost upon them, and her mind a million miles away, mulling over the issue with her Time Turner.
Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione didn’t see Sirius snake out of an alcove until she collided with a solid chest, almost tumbling to the ground. She stumbled back a step and met cold, steel grey eyes. A part of Hermione could not reconcile this cold-eyed boy with the warm-eyed man she knew from her own timeline – a man who’d been generous with his hugs and had offered many kind words to her.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the Princess of Slytherin?”
Hermione laughed at him. “Ouch, I wouldn’t let your cousin hear you saying that. She’d be furious if I took her title from her.”
Sirius’ lips twitched as if he were fighting a smirk. “Fair point. You know, Granger, I find you interesting and infuriating all in the same thought.”
“Wow, big words for you, Black, I’m almost impressed.”
He grimaced at her. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
“That remains to be seen. Goodnight, Black.”
Sirius grabbed her arm, and none too gently at that. “Wait a minute, Granger. Remus…he…well he feels badly about the last time we had an encounter. What you said got through to him, and he wants to apologise. I’ve no idea why, but whatever, who am I to judge what my friend wants? Come on, he’s waiting for us.”
Something in his eyes made her want to believe him, so against her better judgement, Hermione followed him. She wondered if this would be a tipping point in the bullying, that maybe Remus was the one that would get them to stop hounding her, and though less so, Severus too. She doubted that the Gryffindor bunch and Severus would ever be friends, but if they eased off, perhaps the Severus of her timeline would be significantly less bitter toward Harry. But she must tread carefully, because much as it pained her to know, Severus still had to join Voldemort, and for that to happen, he still needed him to be bitter over everything that had happened to him.
Changing history that much would be disastrous for the future. In the times she had considered saving James and Lily Potter, she figured the likely outcome would be that Voldemort would go after the Longbottom’s, and that it would be Neville being the Boy-Who-Lived. And, truthfully, much as she liked Neville, she knew her timeline would be doomed and that Voldemort would have won the second war with ease. Neville was sweet – but he was a bumbling buffoon when it came to, well, anything, really.
When Sirius turned towards the main entrance and walked out of the doors into the moonlight Hermione grew uneasy. “Black, why are we outside?”
“Remus wanted to do it away from prying eyes and listening ears, he’s just down by the Whomping Willow, no one else goes near that thing.”
As they neared the old willow tree, the clouds parted and Hermione noticed the light beaming down. She glanced up, seeing a bright, full moon and her heart failed a moment. No! This can’t be right! She thought. The incident with Remus was not supposed to happen until near the summer, but it was happening now.
“Remus clearly isn’t there, Black, I’m going back to the castle!” She said, turning her back on him. Hermione never heard the spell rushing at her back when her vision suddenly went black and she knew nothing more.
The scent of musk and damp assaulted her nose as she stirred, coming around. Hermione last recalled telling Sirius she was going back to the castle when she’d succumbed to darkness. Opening her eyes, Hermione realised she was in the Shrieking Shack, recognising the dilapidated room as the very one she, Harry and Ron had first met Sirius Black in.
Christ on a bike she was in some deep shit right now. She couldn’t hear any cries of pain or howling. She knew Remus must have already turned, the moon had been high enough to suggest it had been up for a while, so either he was peaceful or he was out of earshot. Given that he could probably already smell her, Hermione doubted the latter and knew the former would not last long.
She had to get out of here and fast or she was going to wind up a tasty snack for a werewolf. Gods, Remus would never forgive Sirius for doing this, neither would Severus. The Slytherin boy would likely kill Sirius for this if he found out. Had she been noticed missing from the dorm yet? If Narcissa had said anything to Severus he’d already be combing the castle for her, and it was only a matter of time before he either gave up or looked outside for her.
Checking her wand holster she could have cried in joy when she found it still there. With a quick flick of her wrist the cool wood with its vine design slipped into her palm and she gripped it tightly, fighting to keep her breathing even so she could hear everything around her and keep a level head. So far, she’d heard no sound of Remus in the shack, but it didn’t mean the werewolf wasn’t around somewhere nearby.
Keeping to the nearest wall, Hermione made small, light steps toward the open door, doing her best to keep every step silent and not give herself away. Whenever a floorboard creaked, which was pretty much all of them, she remained still for a moment, listening intently to the old groaning building, and when she only heard the sound of her blood rushing through her ears, she continued.
She was going to murder Sirius when she found him! She made it to the stairs and couldn’t decide if it was better to continue in the quiet way she had been, or just fly down them in the hopes she would get to safety faster. In the end she figured it best to stick with making herself stay unknown for as long as possible and made her way down the rickety flight of stairs until she reached the narrow passage that would lead her to the Whomping Willow.
She knew if she encountered Remus in the passage she was dead, there would be no escape, and even she ran back the way she came she would still be trapped in the Shrieking Shack, and that was only if Remus didn’t catch her first and maul her to death. Hermione cast a cushioning charm on her shoes to try and quiet her footsteps as she traipsed down the underground passage, her heart thundering in her chest, her hair damp with sweat in her fear.
Hermione knew Remus would smell her fear if she didn’t calm down but she couldn’t. Even if she made it to open ground she was no match for a werewolf, and they were impervious to most spells, rendering even her vast knowledge of spells completely useless. Somehow, though, she made it out of the passage and past the Whomping Willow unscathed and without meeting Remus.
Naturally, that was where her luck ran out. A howl of a wolf tapered into a deep growl that made Hermione’s hair stand on end. Her own fear had been choking her so much she’d failed to notice the hulking form of Remus just out of her line of sight. Oh, god, she was going to die!
Saliva drooled from his sharp teeth, his muzzle slick with a fluid too dark to make out but that Hermione knew instantly was blood. She vaguely hoped it was an animal and not a student. Remus took a step toward her and Hermione fought the instinct to run, knowing that giving chase would only heighten Remus’ lupine brain into the thrill of a chase.
“Remus, it’s me, Hermione. You know I won’t hurt you, I mean, you don’t know that yet, but years from now you will. I knew about your furry little problem early on, and I never told a soul. Remus, please, I swear no one will learn of your condition from me,” she pleaded in a whisper.
The werewolf gave no indication of knowing what she was saying and she knew it would be a fool’s errand to think he would understand her. If she cast a spell at him and it bounced off harmlessly he would attack her. If she ran, he would attack. If she stayed where she was, he would attack. Every option she ran through in her mind all lead to her dying.
The moon shone through a gap in the clouds and Hermione could see his muzzle was indeed covered in blood, what she’d thought to be drool falling from his teeth was also blood and bits of tissue. She felt her stomach turn in horror at the sight he made, eyes glowing eerily in the moonlight, fur on end, an almost hungry grin on his mouth.
Even if she called for help no one would reach her in time. Shifting her weight minutely, Hermione flinched when a branch snapped under her shoe and Remus snarled, launching himself at her. Screaming in terror, Hermione fired off the strongest blasting hex she knew and prayed he survived it because she did not fancy being lauded a murderer by Black and his cohorts.
The hex caught Remus and sent his body a few feet back and seemed to daze him, it bought her precious seconds and even though Hermione knew she wouldn’t make it, she ran for her life. She fired hex after hex over her shoulder, blind, tears blurring her vision as she tried desperately to make it back to the castle.
Some sort of sixth sense told her to duck and she did, rolling her body to the ground just as Remus flew over her, his heavy paws thudding to the ground where her body would have been pinned if she hadn’t dodged him. “Remus, stop!” She screamed. “Please!”
The werewolf quickly came running back at her, tongue lolling out of his mouth looking somewhere between an overexcited puppy and something out of her worst nightmares. Exhausted from using magic non-stop and running on nothing but pure adrenaline, Hermione knew she was a goner. Closing her eyes, Hermione whispered, “I’m sorry, Severus.”
Her magic thrummed and encompassed her, and Hermione felt her world tilt, her eyes focused into sharper vision, her body changed, limbs growing, body lengthening, mind clouded with mingled thoughts of run and attack until suddenly, instinct took over and a new noise rent the air. The deep howls of Remus were matched with feline snarls as Hermione launched herself at the werewolf.
Paws (paws?) tapered with dangerous looking claws (claws?) swiped out at Remus and a howl of pain sounded. The two creatures tore at each other, fighting viciously until eventually, Hermione took a good chunk out of Remus’ flank with her claws and the werewolf loped off in disgrace at being bested by a cat.
Injured, exhausted, and confused, Hermione flopped to the ground in a heap, mentally trying to take stock of her injuries in her muddled brain. It took her moment to realise she must have transformed into an Animagus, her magic reacting instinctively to the situation. But those who changed without following the proper steps often ended up stuck in their form until they could somehow get back to being human.
The whole point of following the steps to becoming an Animagus was to allow the animal mind and human mind to meld together, instead of causing the jumbled thoughts she was currently having. One moment she’d be cataloguing her injuries and the next she’d hear a bird and think snack before switching back to her previous task.
After nearly half an hour of trying to sort her mind out Hermione realised she was going to need some help with this. She knew she could go to McGonagall, the woman knew of Remus’ condition and would understand why Hermione had transformed, but she also knew the woman would demand to know why she had been out at the Shrieking Shack and that put not only Black at risk, but her entire future. If Black got expelled then everything that followed would be altered.
In the end, she settled for limping back to the castle and managing to get back to the Slytherin common room where she found a nearly frantic Severus pacing madly in front of the fire. She wasn’t entirely sure how the young man knew it was her but when he didn’t scream in panic at the sight of her, she knew she was going to be alright. With that knowledge in mind, her exhaustion won out and Hermione fainted, still in feline form.
---oo0oo---
Coming to, Hermione found herself in the Room of Requirement and, regrettably, still not human. Her sharp vision located Severus asleep in an armchair, his hair around his face, the usually harsh features softened in sleep. Hermione gently butted her furry face against him, her tongue licking his cheek until he stirred and stared at her, dark eyes glittering in the firelight.
“Hermione,” he said, voice sleep gruff.
She purred in delight that he recognised her, butting her head against his again.
“I did what I could to heal your injuries but until we get you human again, most magic won’t work on you. Pitfall of being an Animagus. I assume something happened to force the transformation?”
Hermione purred again, signalling her affirmation.
“Alright, we can discuss more later. For now, you need to not force your thoughts to separate, you need to allow them to meld together. The feline thoughts you view as a distraction you need to accept as a part of who you are.”
Understanding, Hermione tried to do as he said, but found herself still unable to transform back. She grumbled in distress and nudged his hand. His long fingers tangled in the fur around her ears and scratched at them, sending her into purring, soothing her until finally, she calmed enough to be able to transform back.
She fought the panic, knowing she’d end up stuck again and when she was finally in front of him as herself, Hermione stopped him from pulling his hand back from where it was in her hair, near her ear, and instead tucked her cheek into his palm. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears clogging her throat.
“You’re safe now, everything will be fine. Tell me what happened, Slughorn burst in saying a beast had been sighted in the Entrance Hall and when you weren’t in the common room I feared the worst.”
Hermione had the sudden thought that perhaps Black had not been leading her to her death after all and instead of the truth, told Severus she had gone for a walk, unable to settle her mind and didn’t know about any beast. “I wound up by the Whomping Willow and a werewolf was there, that must have been the beast Slughorn was on about. I thought I was going to die, Severus, I was terrified. I managed to stun it with a Bombarda Maxima but not for long. When it attacked I just…changed. It was the weirdest sensation.”
His lips twisted in a smirk. “Yes, the first time is often an unusual experience, coupled with the fact you did it spontaneously must have worsened the feeling. Had you been practising?”
“No, I never really bothered about becoming an Animagus. How did you know it was me?”
Severus’ smirk dropped into a small, genuine smile. “Your eyes, they stayed the same honey colour they are now.”
“Thank you for helping me, Severus.”
Only then did Severus run his thumb over her cheek before removing his hand. “Thank you for trusting me with such personal information, Hermione. One does not usually share their Animagus form unless they truly trust someone.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest and rested her hand on his knee, still knelt at his feet. “Of course I trust you, Severus,” she whispered.
Rising up, Hermione leant close and brushed her lips over the corner of his mouth, a barely there kiss that had Severus inhaling sharply, but not pulling away from her. “You’re a snow leopard,” he murmured. “And your fur is like silk.”
Blushing, Hermione smiled at him. “I’d love to see it sometime, maybe not when my life is in danger.”
Laughing, Severus nodded in agreement. “Yes, I don’t recommend getting into life or death situations again any time soon.”
Making to stand, Hermione cried out in pain when white hot agony shot through her side. Severus ran his wand over her left side and sang an incantation that healed her immediately, the pain disappearing in a flash. “Another creation of yours?”
The wizard nodded. “Yes.”
“Severus?”
“Yes?”
“Will…will you show me your Animagus form sometime?”
Dark eyes shone with mirth. “What makes you think I have one?”
Hermione smirked knowingly. “You spoke of transforming for the first time as if from experience.”
“Ah, of course, should have known you’d pick up on that. Yes, I will show you, but not tonight. For now, you need to sleep, you’ve suffered a very serious injury and even though you’re healed, you’re likely still in a little shock.”
As if his words held power over her, Hermione felt exhaustion flood her body once more and she swayed where she knelt. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and gently hauled her to her feet, guided her to the bed the Room provided, and settled in beside her. Unhappy with the distance between them, Hermione threw caution to the wind and settled closer, risking laying her head on his chest, her ear above his heart. A beat later, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her close. Hermione fell asleep to the steady beating of Severus’ heart and his thumb lightly stroking her arm where he held her.
---oo0oo---
By morning, word had spread of the beast that had made its way into the castle and Hermione found herself accosted by three Gryffindors on her way to lunch and dragged into an abandoned classroom. Hermione had her wand in her hand before they’d even closed the door and the tip pointed directly at Black’s heart.
To his credit, the Gryffindor boy didn’t so much as blink at her, but his fingers did twitch for his wand then seemed to dismiss the idea. “I’m not going to hurt you, Granger.”
Hermione looked at Potter and Remus, the latter looking horrible given he’d only transformed last night and looked dead on his feet, not to mention he was favouring his right side heavily. “Hermione, I am so sorry,” Remus choked out, his eyes filled with misery.
“You told him?” She hissed at Sirius.
Potter pushed her wand away, gently. “No, I did. He was going on about attacking someone in the woods, he doesn’t normally remember much after transforming ‘cause the wolf takes over, but he was adamant someone was injured, possibly even infected.”
“You told him?!” She shrieked.
“Merlin, Granger, not so loud!” Potter cried. “Remus is still sensitive to sound!”
“Sorry, Remus,” she said. “But that does not explain why you told him, Black!”
“I knew, Granger,” Potter groused. “I saw you wandering the halls. I…well I was being an arse and ranting about you, so when Remus transformed because we weren’t watching the time, he did so angry and with you on his mind, so he sought you out. I…fuck, I’m sorry, Granger. I told Sirius to trick you into the Shack to keep you safe, Remus would never have forgiven himself and when he gave us the slip, and Sirius didn’t find you in the shack, we panicked. Did…did Remus infect you?”
Hermione realised the story was so incredulous it really had to be true. She looked at the heavily scarred boy who was looking like he was about to be handed a death sentence. “Oh, Remus, I am so sorry, I should have told you straight away. No, you didn’t infect me. I, uh, apparently spontaneously transformed into my Animagus and beat the snot out of you.”
The werewolf huffed a weak laugh, wincing when his side hurt. She recalled the incantation Severus had sung and used it on him, making them all swear never to repeat that spell or she’d cut out their tongues. Remus was infinitely grateful to her and almost hugged her in gratitude. Laughing, she allowed the contact and rubbed his back.
“I’ve never been so grateful to have the living daylights beaten out of me,” Remus chuckled.
“Well, thank you, Black, for apparently trying to save my life.”
“You’re welcome, Granger. I’ll admit I did it more for Remus, but nonetheless, you don’t deserve to be killed even if you’re a pain in the arse.”
“There’s a simple solution, Black. Stop harassing me and Severus and I’ll leave you alone. And, Potter, I expect you to sort Lily out. I’m extremely tired of her harassing me over my friendship with Severus, the jealousy is really annoying now.”
Potter flushed red but nodded. “Yeah, I know, I’ll have a word with her. Granger? Thanks for not ratting Remus out.”
Hermione smiled softly. “It’s not my secret to tell, Potter. Remus, go get some sleep, you look as though you’re about to fall asleep standing up.”
They parted ways and for the first time since being here, Hermione thought that just maybe, she could get them to be amicable with Severus going forward. Speaking of her friend, and possibly something more, Hermione decided she needed to tell him the truth about herself. She hated not being truthful with him and she was going to need his help after she’d found out the runes on her necklace had been carved by hand by him, and not purchased that way.
She vowed she would address it that weekend, before things got any messier. She knew she was falling for Severus and it would only make things harder on them both if she stayed much longer, and even less likely that she would ever leave.
The week passed with little issue, and Severus’ marked comments about the Gryffindors leaving them alone gave Hermione such joy that she simply shrugged when he asked if she knew what had caused the sudden turnabout in behaviour. “Maybe they finally pulled their heads out of their arses.”
There had been no repeats of their moment in the Room of Requirement but on Friday night Hermione received a note found hidden in her Transfiguration text to meet him in the Room that night, after curfew. Hermione considered discussing her Time Turner then but given Severus planned something, she decided to not ruin whatever he’d planned.
She slipped out after curfew unseen and easily made her way to the seventh floor, requesting the Room reveal to her where Severus was and disappeared inside, finding Severus in the same style of room she’d woken up in when she’d been stuck in her Animagus form. He was seated in the same armchair, though this time he was awake, a tiny smile playing about his lips.
“You wished to know my Animagus form, is that still the case?” He asked by way of greeting.
Hermione grinned. “Of course!”
Severus fluidly rose to his feet. “I’ll have your word as a witch that you will not laugh.”
Sensing the insecurity from Severus she sobered and nodded. “You have my word on my magic that I will not laugh, Severus.”
Magic pulsed in the air and Severus seemed to shimmer before he slid from two feet to four, his body sprouting fur and a hyena stood before her. He yipped at her before shifting back quickly, his face blank, as if expecting her to suddenly burst into laughter.
“Why would I laugh at your form?”
Severus blinked at her. “A hyena. Known for their barking to sound like laughter, and they’re scavengers.”
Hermione recalled his childhood of having very little and imagined he’d had to perhaps scavenge for food more than once. “Indeed, but they are also excellent hunters capable of taking down prey bigger than them, even alone, deadly even without the aid of their pack.”
That tiny smile returned and Severus tipped his head in thanks to her. “I asked for a mirror this time, so you can see your form. It should be easier to shift now you’ve done it once before, this time focus on allowing your thoughts to meld, not be separate and you should have no trouble shifting back and forth.”
Moving before the mirror, Hermione followed his directive and marvelled at the sight of her snowy fur dotted with grey, her eyes a warm honey, tail bushy and swishing about her body. Her paws were big, tipped with deadly claws, ears fluffy, one flicking when Severus touched it. She shifted back and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Severus!”
The young wizard embraced her easily, no longer standing so rigidly whenever she bestowed a hug upon him. She rather enjoyed being in his hold and had to shift away when she found herself not wanting to let go. “Hermione, might I talk to you about something?”
She sat down in the other armchair and nodded. “Of course.”
“When I gave you that necklace I said it was not meant how one would intend it in our culture.”
“I recall,” she said.
“Recently…I find myself wishing to take back that statement. I would like the gift to mean something…more.”
Hermione was startled by his quiet confession and while she knew she should stop his advances now when she knew what she had to tell him would hurt him, she could not ignore the warmth in her heart at his admission. “Severus, I…would like very much if it meant more.”
She wasn’t entirely sure who moved first, but one moment they were sat staring at each other and in the next, Hermione was on her feet, wrapped in Severus’ arm with his lips on hers. They were soft, warm, slightly chapped, the kiss hurried yet equally slow, tentative but bold. Hermione threaded her hands in his glossy hair, uncaring for the slightly greasy feel of it, rising on her toes to get closer to the boy who would one day tower over her more than he already did so.
Gods, she needed to stop this! But then his tongue traced the seam of her lips and Hermione lost all ability to string a single thought together. She opened her mouth to him, her tongue meeting his, the taste of chocolate on him sending her senses reeling. Mewling in pleasure, Hermione shifted closer and Severus rumbled in his chest, his hold on her tightening.
“Severus,” she murmured, breaking the kiss. “I…I’ve never, um, never done this before.”
Her cheeks were bright red in embarrassment and Severus pulled back a little. “Neither have I, Hermione. It may surprise you to know that I am not, exactly, the epitome of desirability.”
Snorting delicately, Hermione slid her hand behind his head and tugged him back down. “Then I suppose other people have been blind,” she whispered, meeting his lips once again.
Severus walked them to the bed, never breaking their kiss, and when Hermione fell onto the covers he followed her, his robe falling off his arms as he went. Hermione opened her legs for him and was rewarded with the comfortable weight of him between her thighs, his clothed erection pressing into her, her panties growing more wet with every brush of his tongue over hers.
No lies had been told, Hermione had never bothered having sex with anyone in her own timeline. Her first would be with the one person she’d never be able to have again but it didn’t stop her, she wanted him and even if he decided to never see her again after tomorrow, she would have this. It was selfish, she knew, but her heart desired him more than even returning home. There was no doubt that she was hopelessly in love with him.
Wrapping a leg around one of Severus’ she rolled them, straddled his waist and allowed herself to grind against him. Her movement was rewarded with a deep groan and Hermione shucked off her sweater, yanked her tie loose and threw it away. She dropped down until her weight rested on her hands and resumed their kiss, her thick hair enveloping them in a curtain of warmth that Severus did not seem to mind.
Large hands gripped her hips, slid up her waist and ribs, until they moved to her front and cupped her breasts. Hermione’s breathing increased, soft whimpers falling from her throat whenever he squeezed, her sensitive nipples hard under clothing and begging for attention. Hermione broke the kiss to trail her lips down his jaw, under it and along his neck. Severus tilted his head to allow her better access and when she lightly bit over his jugular, Severus rolled them back over with a growl and yanked his own jumper and tie off.
She tried to unbutton her blouse but Severus knocked her hands out of the way and deftly slipped the tiny buttons through their eyeholes, the material parted under his direction and Hermione dared to take a peek at his face, unsure of how he would react to her less than ample chest but all she could see in the dark orbs was the desire that had been there since the night before.
Knowing how self-conscious Severus was over his thinness, Hermione let her blouse fall from her arms as she sat up and tugged him into a kiss, her fingers making quick work of his shirt and instead of parting it and sitting back to look, she instead opted to run her hands over his skin. She mapped his chest first, a small smattering of hair was in the centre of his chest, nipples small but seemingly sensitive when she brushed one with a thumb and he inhaled sharply.
Her fingertips trailed down to his stomach, the muscles bunching and twitching, suggesting he might be a little ticklish. Around to his back and she found a multitude of scars and when she touched the first one, Severus immediately went rigid and seemed to shut down on her, his kisses barely responsive. Hermione lightly trailed a finger over a long one, pulling back from the kiss to look at him. “They do not define who you are, Severus. Only what trials you have faced and defeated.”
“They are unsightly,” he muttered.
Hermione removed her hands from his back and squeezed his hips a second, then unsnapped the front clasp of her bra. The material had lace below the cups that hid the horrendous scar that cut across her chest, a gift from Dolohov after the Department of Mysteries incident. Sliding the bra off her arms, Hermione waited, watching his eyes take in the scar, the fact she hadn’t bothered to heal it until he came to the realisation that couldn’t heal it, because it was a curse scar.
“Who?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Severus. My scar doesn’t define me, it is simply a token of what I endured and refused to be beaten by. Your scars are no different, they don’t make you unattractive, or undesirable, or any other word you can come up with in that gigantic brain of yours that is derogatory to yourself.”
The wizard snorted at the mention of his big brain and fell on her, his lips fastening to her throat and nibbling at her, the bites making her hiss in pleasure, the sting soothed with a warm, wet tongue. She was confident that there must be a live wire that ran directly from her nipples to her pussy because the second Severus rolled one between thumb and forefinger, she felt herself grow more wet at his ministrations.
“S-Severus, please,” she whimpered, hands clutching in his hair.
With no direction needed, the young man easily wrapped his lips around the nipple he wasn’t stimulating with his fingers and laved it with his tongue. Hermione’s back arched and she cried out, one hand fisted in his hair, the other in the sheets. She was pretty sure that if he kept this up, she was going to come before they’d even get their underwear off.
In an effort to try and distract herself from what he was doing to her, Hermione snaked a hand between them and managed to get his trousers unfastened and her hand inside his boxers before he’d realised what was happening. By the time he did, Hermione wrapped her fingers around him and stroked, firmly, a grin on her face when Severus’ eyes rolled in their sockets and he let out a lewd moan of pleasure.
Well, her plan to distract herself completely backfired. Hearing that deep moan drove her crazy and Hermione wanted him more than ever, if that were even possible. Unsatisfied with just feeling, Hermione gently tugged his length free from his trousers and was entranced the sight her slim fingers made wrapped around his thick cock, the head flushed and damp, the thick vein underneath pulsing under her grip, the silken skin gliding easily where she moved her hand on him.
Suddenly, Severus’ hand clamped down on her wrist in a vicelike grip. “Stop, please,” he croaked. “I’m close.”
Feeling emboldened, Hermione did release him, but instead grabbed his hips, urged him to his knees and sat up, sucking the head of his cock into her mouth. Hands grabbed her hair in a painful grip, one moment tugging away and the next pushing down to urge her on. She listened intently for any word from the wizard that he didn’t want to do this, but when the head hit the back of her throat and pulsed, Hermione recalled the things she had read, loosened her jaw, swallowed and felt him slide into her throat.
Severus growled and Hermione looked up, her honeyed gaze meeting his dark one, the raw hunger on his face driving her own pleasure higher. He pulsed again and Hermione felt something thick spurt down her throat. Lest she be choked to death on semen, she remembered to swallow quickly and pulled off the moment Severus made a noise of discomfort, no doubt sensitive.
“For someone who says they’ve never done this before, you’re full of surprises,” Severus panted above her, hand still in her hair but the grip far looser.
Hermione smirked. “I read a lot of books, and some of them are kind enough to include pictures.”
Throwing his head back, Severus roared with laughter and leaned down to kiss her. “Full of surprises,” he murmured against her lips.
And as if to prove he, too, could pull a surprise over on her, Severus grabbed her wrists, pushed her back down on the bed and covered her mouth with his. Hermione squeaked in shock at the sudden domineering attitude but didn’t deny she got a thrill out of it, besides, she knew she was safe with him, Severus would never dare hurt her.
Her wrists were eventually released in favour of removing her skirt, the rustle of the material reminding her that she was half naked while Severus’ shirt still hung from his shoulders. Hermione pushed the material off his shoulders and inwardly crowed in delight when he complied and pulled his limbs free.
The skirt was pulled away when she lifted her hips and flung across the room somewhere, her shoes and socks were slipped off until she lay in nothing but her panties. Hermione was pleased when Severus seemed to have lost some of his insecurity about his body when he shed his trousers, socks and shoes also, leaving them both in their undies. “You will say if I do something you dislike?”
Hermione frowned but nodded. “Of course.”
Lips trailed a line of hot kisses down her throat and across her chest, special attention paid to the scar that bisected her thorax, then carried on down her stomach until a wet tongue dipped in her navel. She squealed in shock then flushed red in horror at the noise she made, finding Severus chuckling at her, face just above the apex of her thighs.
Her brain finally caught up with what Severus was planning and her pulse quickened. Her panties were pulled down her legs, the material drenched with her juices, and Severus twirled them about a long finger. “My, my, Hermione, you’re positively glistening.”
Red blazed from her cheeks down her neck and to her chest, she knew. “What can I say, Severus? You really don’t know your own appeal.”
Severus groaned and kissed his way up her inner thighs, then seemed to lose steam right as he reached the juncture. Hermione reached down and ran a hand through his hair. “Severus, I don’t require this, I only want to do whatever we’re both comfortable with. If this feels too out of your depth then don’t.”
“I…don’t wish to make a fool of myself,” he admitted, his eyes unable to meet hers.
Hermione cupped her hand under his chin and sat up a little so she could see him properly. “Severus, there is no obligation to do this simply because I did for you. Believe me when I say that nothing you do could make a fool of you, I promise. We’re both new to this, there’s no right and wrong, just learning together and seeing what we enjoy. You enjoyed what I did, yes?” He nodded. “I was nervous but I knew you wouldn’t make fun of me if I couldn’t handle it.”
Her words seemed to appease any self-doubt and Severus pressed his lips to her right inner thigh, nipping a little bite before dragging his tongue across her flesh to her pussy. Hermione was glad she’d always been fastidious in keeping herself tidy, more for personal need than anything else, so when Severus ran his tongue across her damp folds she was rewarded with sensation immediately and sucked in a surprised breath at how much it lit her blood.
Hands pushed her thighs further apart and Hermione complied, feeling her folds part and expose her to the cool air. Her skin pebbled with goosebumps and seconds later, the cool dampness was replaced with Severus’ hot tongue sliding through her juices until the tip reached her clit and circled it. Crying out, Hermione grabbed the sheets as an anchor lest she float away on a wave of pleasure. For all his nerves, Severus ate her out like a fucking pro and Hermione teetered on the edge of orgasm very quickly.
Face flushed and sweaty in her passion, Hermione looked down at Severus’ dark head, eyes locked on her while his tongue was still buried in her folds, her clit engorged and pulsing with every flick. A slender digit slid inside her and she tumbled over the edge, a guttural moan turning into a scream of pure pleasure as her orgasm slammed through her, her body thrashing around, her clit so sensitive yet still begging for more attention until finally, her lover relented and surreptitiously cleaned his face of her before meeting her lips.
The taste of herself on his tongue was not as unpleasant as she had expected it to be, and then there had been no room for thought because somewhere in the midst of him pleasuring her, Severus had done away with his boxers and was nudging her entrance. They both moaned when he slid inside her, Hermione barely feeling the pinch of her hymen being destroyed when her body was still buzzing from her orgasm.
The feeling of being so full was alien to her but not unwelcome, not especially when it was being caused by the young man she had so irrevocably fallen in love with. The first thrust had Hermione wrapping her legs around Severus’ waist in a bid to somehow tug him deeper, though, her wizard was by no means small and already she felt stretched farther than believed to be possible. “Severus,” she whimpered.
His lips pressed to hers before he snapped his hips forward and Hermione clung to him for dear life, her walls fluttering around him, nails scoring his back, eyes glazed over while Severus fucked her closer to orgasm. “I…I can’t last,” Severus croaked, rhythm already starting to falter.
And, really, Hermione was surprised they’d even made this far. She was well aware of how a teenage male’s first time was often over far quicker than either party wanted, but he held out for her, his determination to see her tumble over the edge before him evident in his eyes. “Then don’t,” she whispered.
He pulsed inside her, swelling, grazed over a spot inside her that sent Hermione hurtling into orgasm just as she felt the first splashes of semen in her body, Severus letting out a soft grunt of pleasure as he came. They clung to one another, Severus collapsing a moment before rolling off her. Hermione followed him, threw her leg over his hip and pressed their foreheads together, breath mingling as they panted, each trying to slow their racing hearts.
“I love you, Severus,” Hermione whispered in the dim light.
A pause, blink, before, “And I love you, Hermione.”
Whatever tomorrow brought, Hermione knew in this moment, he meant those words. And if he was furious with her tomorrow and took them back, she would be able to recall forever the way his voice lost its usual drawl to instead be filled with awe and a touch of disbelief, as if he himself could not quite believe he had spoken words with the power to make or break him.
---oo0oo---
Waking to the sounds of birdsong, Hermione was extremely disoriented since the usual sounds that greeted her of a morning were either Narcissa snoring or someone singing from the showers. Birdsong was not a feature of the dungeons. She cracked an eye and last night came flooding back when she recognised the familiar surroundings of the Room of Requirement that had been provided for them.
Severus was still sleeping, his back to her and she shuffled closer, pressed her lips to his bare shoulder and was rewarded with a sleepy mumble of her name. “Good morning,” she murmured.
The dark head turned and equally dark eyes opened, a little glazed from sleeping but alert nonetheless. “Good morning,” he rumbled, sleep roughed voice make him more gravelly.
The sheets around his hips were tented with Severus’ morning erection, and Hermione, feeling rather bold, slid to straddle him and made short work of getting him inside her. Both of them moaned, his hands grasping her hips and her own braced on his thin chest. And thin though he was, Hermione could feel muscle bunching and twitching under her touch as she moved atop him. She quickly found her rhythm and didn’t last more than a few minutes before she shuddered in climax, a soft, breathy cry falling from her lips.
Severus rolled them, taking over and thrusting hard before following and filling her once again. It was then he noticed the slight tinge of blood on the sheets that he seemed to remember Hermione had been a virgin too. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should have taken better care last night instead of going to sleep.”
Hermione laughed and kissed him. “I was fine, Severus, if I’d been hurting I would have said something. Come, we should at least shower and dress, much as I would love to spend all day in bed I actually need your help with something.”
A slight grin worked its way onto Severus’ face at the prospect of being the one to teach Hermione something again, he hopped out of bed and they showered together. She had known that Severus would never be one to shower someone he loved with affection, but he would brush his fingers over her cheek, or she’d catch his dark eyes locked on her, a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
When they were dressed, the fear and worry gnawed at Hermione’s stomach but she forged on. This had to be done. “I noticed the necklace you gave me has runes on it that shouldn’t be able to coexist because each is too strong than another and it should cause a volatile reaction, but they don’t. I asked Narcissa about it and she said that you carved them on by hand. How?”
If he was surprised by the subject of their discussion his face didn’t show it. “It’s quite simple, really. After carving each rune, you seal it with Connexum. It creates a binding connection to each rune so that they form a circle of power, each one powering the one that proceeds it, each stabilised by the connection from the one that precedes it.”
Hermione stared at him, a mixture of awe and anger coursing through her. Not at Severus, of course, at herself for not thinking of something that was literally very simple. She’d never considered sealing them individually to one another. “You really are a bloody genius, Severus.”
He smirked and tipped his head in acknowledgement of her statement. “Why do you need to know?”
Chewing her lip, Hermione pulled her Time Turner from the hidden pocket in her robes. “I know you hate making promises you know you likely can’t keep, but I really need you to try and understand what I’m about to tell you, and try to forgive me.”
Dark eyes shot to hers, narrowing at her though without much heat. It was a start, she supposed. When he finally nodded and promised that he would remain clear headed and open minded until she had finished speaking, Hermione began.
“I never lied about my name, but everything else is, well, either grandly exaggerated, or an outright untruth. I was never sent here because my parents died as a casualty of war, I was sent here because my experiments with the Time Turner went wrong. I’m actually from 2001, I’m really twenty-years-old, and I knew you long before I ever saw you here in 1976.”
She told him everything she was able to, then, only leaving out how she knew him, major events from the future, and anything else that would have dire consequences if Severus knew of them. The more she spoke to darker his expression became until, finally, his eyes were as cold as the first day she’d ever met him, both in her time and in this one.
“Get out,” he hissed.
“Severus, please, I’m sure you think me nothing more than a horrible bitch for lying to you, but I need you to know, at the very least, that anything surrounding us was never a lie. I only intended to befriend you, to let you know that there are those who care about you, I didn’t intend to fall in love with you and even though I did, I never, ever dreamed that you would fall for me too. I’m sorry, I truly am, and no matter how angry you are with me, I do love you.”
“I said get out, stay the fuck away from me, and don’t ever come back. I don’t want to see you again, Granger. ”
She would not cry in front of him, Hermione would not insult him like that. Instead, Hermione rose to her feet and left the room without a backward glance. It didn’t take a genius to know Severus was crying and she had no intention of irking him further by seeing him do so. She hoped, one day, he would forgive her, but right now, she had a Time Turner to fix.
It would take her days to do, and in that time, Severus would not speak to her, look at her, or even so much as acknowledge her existence. Narcissa and the others grew colder towards her, assuming that she had done something wrong, and well, they weren’t incorrect. When Narcissa asked her about it, Hermione told her a vague truth that everything about her wasn’t entirely accurate and that she had been forced to keep the truth from them to keep her future safe.
The youngest Black sister seemed to understand her reasoning, but was still unhappy her friend had been hurt. “Tell me something, if you can. In your time, did you love him then?”
The question shocked Hermione. “Well, Severus in my time is very…cold. He doesn’t suffer fools and he hates Gryffindors even more, unfortunately, I tend to fall into both categories and he has little time for me. But, I always had respect for Severus, and in a way, yes, I had already begun to fall for him, but I didn’t understand my feelings and since I knew there wasn’t a cat in hell’s chance of him ever reciprocating them, I never said anything.”
“Understood. We better get you back home then, I guess. But, Hermione, will you do me a favour? If…if I’m still alive in your time, will you pay a visit?”
Hermione agreed and promised she would visit. After all, it would be hilarious to see Draco Malfoy’s face when Hermione ‘Mudblood’ Granger showed up on their doorstep and wasn’t turned away with a trail of curses following her. She worked tirelessly to get the Time Turner working and when the last rune had been carved, and sealed, she knew she had no excuse not to return to her own timeline. Except…Severus still wouldn’t speak to her.
In a strange turn of events she started to understand how he must have felt when he’d ruined the friendship he’d had with Lily Evans, and then it clicked into place. A previous conversation flitted through her mind, the pair of them overhearing Lily speaking to one of her girlfriend’s on how she wished Severus had bothered to fight a little harder for their friendship. She might have forgiven him if he’d done more than just follow her around.
But Severus wouldn’t want Hermione to follow him around because in all the time he had been doing that, he’d felt humiliated when she refused to even be seen near him, let alone speak to him. Hermione knew then that Severus was waiting for her to apologise, properly, and maybe, just maybe, things would be alright. Because she’d been telling Severus from the word go that he was better in every way than Lily Evans.
One more day here wouldn’t make much difference, she decided, and tracked Severus down to the library. The wizard was reading a text, or rather, he looked like he was but she could tell his eyes were not moving across the page. Either he couldn’t focus, or he’d clocked her presence and was waiting to see what would happen.
Hermione sat the table opposite him and cast Muffliato. “The first time I ever met you, you spoke with such in such a way that I was enraptured during the entire speech, and I still remember every single you word you said despite it being, for me, ten years ago. The first time you were ever truly horrible to me, you made me cry, and the next day, you apologised. You didn’t think I’d heard you, but I did, and even if you hadn’t, I’d have still forgiven you. The first time you were ever truly kind to me was the day after I got this,” she held up her top, revealing the edges of the scar from Dolohov. “I wasn’t bothered about the scarring, and you knew I wasn’t, but it was hurting so much I couldn’t leave the hospital wing. You invented a lotion that reduced the scarring so it wasn’t so thick and didn’t pull at my skin so much, and eventually it healed enough that there was no pain anymore. The very last time I saw you, you let me hold your hand, in a boathouse.”
Dark eyes bored into hers and Hermione felt her own full of tears until they fell, making tracks down her cheeks. Finally, he spoke. “When you were staring at me, and said I reminded you of someone, you were reminded of me.”
It wasn’t really a question but Hermione nodded. “Yes.”
“The time I hurt you, it was your teeth, wasn’t it?”
“Narcissa told you the story?”
“Yes, but you never said who was that cruel to you.”
Hermione chuckled wryly. “How did you know it was you that said it then?”
Severus winced. “It sounded like something I would do.”
“Well, you apologised.”
“And you said if I hadn’t, you’d have still forgiven me. Why?”
She reached across the table and pulled one of his hands between her two smaller ones. “There are things I can’t tell you, because it would change too much and have too much effect on my timeline, but, there were others around and appearances had to be made. It was not outside of anything you would ever say to anyone else, but you admitted to having a grudging respect for my brain and ability to retain everything I read.”
It was definitely a victory when he didn’t pull his hand away. “I reacted poorly, that night.”
“No, you didn’t. I had just told you everything you knew about me was a lie, Severus. I was hurt but that was my own fault for allowing the night before to happen when I should have told you the truth first. Instead, I let my own feelings cloud my head and slept with you, it’s no surprise you felt betrayed.”
Fingers laced with hers and squeezed before pulling back. “Don’t mistake me, I am still very angry, Hermione. You lied to me and slept with me, twice, before telling me something that was important. And, after I admitted to falling in love with you, I have to lose you. I’m sorry, Hermione, but I meant what I said, I don’t want to see you again…” Hermione’s heart shattered. “…unless it’s back in your own time.”
She gave him a watery smile and nodded. “I’ll be going tonight. The longer I stay the more damage I could be doing.”
“Why didn’t you go after that night?” Severus asked her.
“I had to at least try and apologise before I left, I couldn’t go when you were so angry. And, even if you didn’t want to hear it, I wanted to remind you that I love you.”
Smiling, perhaps the widest she’d ever seen, Severus pressed his lips to her knuckles. “As I love you, Hermione. Goodbye.”
Hermione swallowed down her sob and dispelled the Muffliato, turned away and left. If she looked back she knew she wouldn’t leave and she had to, she dreaded to think how much had changed from her being in 1976 and befriending so many people that would be of her future. She made her way down to the Black Lake and pulled out the Time Turner. She turned the dials forwards to her year, set the rings spinning and looked back at the castle, seeing Severus silhouetted in the doorway of the entrance hall. “Goodbye, Severus,” she whispered.
---oo0oo---
In 2001 Hermione landed in her office with a small jolt, everything as she had left it all those months ago. She checked the date and sure enough, she was perhaps a few hours past when she had first disappeared but that was it. Hermione held it together long enough to Apparate home before she collapsed to her knees and screamed in pain, her heart breaking all over again. The last time she had seen Severus and held his hand in the boathouse was the night he’d died, losing his life when Voldemort cut his throat and let Nagini sink her fangs into him.
Unable to leave him alone to die, Hermione had crawled into the boathouse and held his hand, sobbing brokenly, until eventually the light faded from his eyes and his heart had stopped beating. She’d sent Harry and Ron off to do whatever was needed, she would not leave the man until she knew she could save him, or his life ended.
Falling asleep where she was curled on the floor of her living room, Hermione slept until morning, waking to a new kind of pain. Hermione’s head felt like it was going to explode, hundreds of memories swirling around, replacing ones she’d had before. Her chest healed, the scar that had bisected it gone, Dolohov unable to attack the girl who looked like his friend from 1976. Narcissa kept her safe from Bellatrix, the scar on her arm gone from sight.
Sirius Black standing at Harry’s side during the Final Battle, seeing his godson graduate, settling down with a pretty witch and helping raise Teddy Lupin, whose parents unfortunately still died. Sirius looking between Hermione at Gryffindor table, and Severus at the Head Table, and looking annoyed that neither of them were speaking to one another.
So many things had been changed because of Hermione’s influence in the past, and mainly those of the Slytherins she had befriended, each of them still following Voldemort but none of them willing to hurt her. But of all her changing memories, one had a subtle change that made her smile sadly – the boathouse. Severus held her hand tightly, his eyes boring into hers, face pale and bloodied. He’d managed to whisper he loved her, and Hermione had pressed her lips to his forehead in confusion.
The memory blurred a little after that and Hermione guessed in her fragile state of mind she was perhaps blocking it, because at the time she had not yet gone back in time, but now, the memory hurt and it was because current Hermione had fallen in love with Severus and her heart hurt at trying to remember him.
In the days that followed her return, Hermione filed her work with the Ministry and was invited to join the Unspeakables. She declined but thanked them for such a generous offer. It was enough that she’d been able to create this, but the patent she filed meant that no one could ever own one without first purchasing one directly from Hermione herself. And, since she was the only one who knew how to make them, there wouldn’t be idiots running amok changing Merlin only knew what within history.
She was set to make a tidy sum from the Ministry alone after they paid handsomely for ten of the Time Turners to be kept with their Unspeakables. She kept her promise and visited Narcissa, the older woman smiling so brightly and dragging her in for a warm hug. Hermione explained in full detail this time all the things that had changed and Narcissa listened avidly, grateful that each time she had been unsure of a choice laid before her, something had whispered in her mind which to take.
“Severus?” Narcissa asked.
Hermione lowered her head and shook it. “Before I went back to 1976 Severus died in the boathouse, Voldemort slit his throat and let his snake bite him, repeatedly. Severus was dying, and I hadn’t wanted him to be alone, so I held his hand and sent Harry and Ron off. When I returned from 1976, the only thing that changed was Severus telling me he loved me, but I hadn’t gone back in time yet, so I was confused and just kissed his forehead. My memory blurs after that but I’m guessing he still died.”
“Oh, Hermione, I am so sorry,” Narcissa sniffled, holding her hands. “Do you want me to tell you about after you left?”
She considered it, but shook her head. “It’ll only hurt. My memories of him being a teacher haven’t changed, nor him being an ex-Death Eater, so I assume he still followed his path, as he was supposed to.”
They parted ways with promises to keep in touch. After all, Narcissa was Hermione’s only solid link to the events of 1976, the rest of them were either dead or in Azkaban for being in league with Voldemort. Sirius remembered her well, and they would often speak of their shared past, away from Harry and anyone else who could overhear. There was no point going over the same things over and over again, the important thing was Harry had his godfather and Hermione had no intention of ever letting Harry know that there had been a time when he’d lost him.
It was late, all the lights were off and she was heading to bed when someone knocked at her door. Hermione frowned and grabbed her wand. Harry or Ron would have Floo’d over if they needed her for something, Narcissa didn’t have her address yet so who the hell was knocking on her door at eleven at night?
She flung the door open and shoved her wand out, a curse on her lips until her brain caught up with her eyes. “Hello, Hermione,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled softly.
Tears sprang to her eyes and Hermione stumbled backwards, her wand dropping to the floor and clattering as it rolled away. “Severus? Please don’t be a trick, please,” she sobbed. “Prove it’s you!”
He stepped inside her flat, kicked the door shut behind him, and placed his wand on the side table. “You know it’s me.”
She shook her head, hair flying all over, heart hammering in her chest. “No, prove it’s you. Prove you’re him.”
Understanding lit in his dark eyes and Severus dipped his head. “I gave you a necklace made of black onyx, carved with runes and with vines made of silver. I told you it was just a gift between friends, and later, I changed the meaning of my gift because I had fallen in love with you.”
Hermione shot to her feet and ran at him, the tall man catching her with ease and their lips crashed together before her legs had finished wrapping around his waist. Tears mingled with their kisses, Hermione still crying and Severus growling into her mouth, his hold so tight it was painful but she didn’t care. He was here, he was alive, and he was hers.
“How?” She finally asked when they pulled apart.
He frowned and then his expression cleared. “How did I live?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“You knew I died, then?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”
Smirking, Severus pulled out a piece of parchment. “Technically, you did. I found this, a few days after you’d left back for 2001. It was some kind of list that made no sense at first, but then events of it started happening and it allowed me to guide everything to happen as it should, as much of it as I could, anyway.”
Horrified, Hermione buried her face in his neck. “You knew you were supposed to die?”
“Hmmm, supposed is a strong word. Just because it happened in 1998 once, did not mean it was meant to happen again. I developed an anti-venom and took it before you entered the boathouse, I was only unconscious, not dead, when you left.”
“I told Professor McGonagall you were there, but she never said you were still alive when she went to retrieve your body.”
Severus nodded and lowered her to floor. “Indeed, I told her not to. Not to punish you!” He yelled when she went to move away from him. “Not to punish you for leaving, or letting me love you, but because I had a long recovery ahead and I didn’t want you burdened with knowing I was alive only for me to die later down the line.”
She reached for his face and turned his head this way and that, examining the still pink scars despite them being three years old. “Are you…are you here to….do you…”
The wizard took pity and nodded. “Yes, I am here for you, witch. I waited every single fucking day for my path to cross yours again. And when it did, in your first year at Hogwarts, I could have screamed. I had to watch you grow up, say those horrible things to you, and you didn’t remember me.”
“Because I hadn’t gone back yet,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Severus said. “You had yet to make your little trip to 1976. When I told you I loved you in the boathouse and you didn’t say it back I thought what we had was gone, but then you kissed my head not knowing we had already fallen in love yet, and I knew then, somehow, some way, we would always find one another.”
Hermione never expected such heartfelt words from Severus Snape and yet here she was, hearing them from his very lips. “I will love you in every timeline, Severus Snape. You’ve had my heart from even before I went back to our sixth year together, you’ll have it long after we’ve grown old.”
The potions professor snatched her up and kissed her breathless, Hermione clinging to him with all her strength, fearful if she released her grip even a little he would disappear or she would wake from this wonderful dream. “I’ve waited twenty-five years for you, Hermione, I won’t wait another second. Marry me?”
Her eyes were drawn to a small box floating in the air, the lid open to reveal a ring similar to her necklace, which she pulled out from under her top. “Yes, Severus, gods yes!” She cried, slipping the ring on. The black onyx gleamed against her pale skin and her heart ached so much but this time it was with joy and love. One waited twenty-five years to meet again, one never thought they’d never meet again. For them, time stands still.