Chapter Two

Author's Notes: Tremendous thanks goes out to my incredibly capable and persistent beta, mw48, who truly did not let me get away with ANYTHING. She plugged scores of plot holes, disdained my excessive use of hyphens, and made me strive to be better. *hugs!* Also, thank you to Annietalbot for holding my hand and giving this piece a look through and mrs_helenesnape for being one of my biggest cheerleaders! And finally, thank you, Exchange MODS for putting up with my endless excuses and whinging, you all truly are amazing!

Kribu's Prompt: The Grangers meet Snape. Could be a "parents meet daughter's new boyfriend," could be a series of meetings for random reasons, could be them meeting Snape-as-Hermione's-friend (or colleague) and mistaking him for something more, could be them walking in on something, etc.

Back to the man, though. Like I told you, there was nothing too odd about him. With Jeanie, we saw lame kittens rescued from the river rise like Lazarus from the dead, moss she had somehow dug from under a rock weighing ten times as much as she did, leaf piles on the lawn every morning spelling out the weather forecast. At first we were worried that she'd fallen in with a bad crowd or something, but her grades were still top of her form, she certainly didn't listen to any horrid rock music, and she wasn't even interested in makeup. After a bit, we shrugged it off. Lots of strange things happened around Jeanie. I suppose she got it from her mother. So, a man in a black cape standing on the doorstep on a Sunday afternoon? I'd definitely seen worse.

"Dr. Granger?"

He spoke with a strange accent in clipped, economical tones.

I narrowed my eyes. Well, now I was slightly concerned. I'd originally had him pegged as some poor feeble-minded bloke who'd taken a wrong turn at the intersection, but this man was no village idiot.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

He inclined his head slightly and said, "I am here to deliver a missive to Miss Hermione Granger."

Missive? Who says that nowadays? And why the devil would he be delivering a letter to Jeanie?

I raised the arm that I was bracing against the entryway slightly higher and asked pointedly, "My daughter?"

Black eyes flashed in a way that I didn't like, but the voice remained neutral. "If you please, sir."

"I'm sure you'll understand if I insist on knowing what business you have with an eleven-year-old girl."

"Certainly," he replied stiffly. He was still standing awkwardly on our front steps, looking rather uncomfortable, and it occurred to me how very inhospitable I was being towards this caller. Manners be damned. I didn't trust him. "However, I recommend that you assemble your entire family first..."

"Oh, you're finally here!"

Astonished, I turned behind me and saw my daughter bounding down the staircase two steps at a time.

"Jeanie," I barked as she sped to a stop before me, "do you know this man?"

Though she had raced to the door, she seemed to only really look at the stranger after I pointed him out. She glanced over him, tipping her head backwards to accommodate his considerable height, then wrinkled her nose. "No, Daddy, I don't know him. I just know what he's here for."

That seemed to startle the man, and one simply knew that he wasn't a man who startled easily. He stood up even straighter, if that was possible, then lifted thin eyebrows.

I gripped Jeanie's shoulder and demanded, "And what might that be, young lady?"

She cocked her head matter-of-factly. "He's come to take me to school."

"What..."

"Dr. Granger. Perhaps it is time to show me inside and summon your wife," the dour man interrupted forcefully.

I glared at him. He glared back.

Fifteen minutes later (I had insisted upon patting the man down for concealed weapons, which he had consented to with a sneer that could curdle milk), he was finally settled in an armchair, holding a cup of tea between long, disturbingly pale fingers. I'd called Jane in from her weekend gardening, as instructed, and now we sat with Jeanie between us on the couch.

"Madam," he acknowledged.

Dirt-smudged and tetchy, my wife snapped, "Well? We haven't got all day!"

"Then I will dispense with the formalities," the man rejoined dryly. "I am Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your daughter is endowed with magical abilities. I was sent here by the Headmaster of Hogwarts with an offer of admission to the school, where she will receive a magical education that will allow her to competently use her powers." He reached inside the cape thing he was wearing and pulled out an envelope, which he proffered wordlessly to Jeanie.

We took in this absurd pronouncement, listened to the incomprehensible words which were being spoken to us. After a moment of blank staring, I could only manage to ask, "School? There's a school for this?"

"Shite," I heard Jane curse under her breath.

"Yes, there is!" came the answer from a voice we didn't expect. Both Jane and I fastened suspicious stares on our daughter.

Our guest was also directing his attention toward Jeanie now, a subtle shift in his demeanor evident. "Though I have broken this news to families on many occasions, this is the first time that any Muggle-born student has been cognizant of her abilities and expecting my arrival."

The conversation was spiraling far beyond my control, and I could only try to follow dazedly.

"Well, I've always known I was different. I didn't understand why these weird things were always happening around me, so I went to the library and found all the books that could possibly contain information."

That much I could believe at least. Jeanie's world was books. Of course if there was anything to work out, she would have worked it out. She looked like she would burst with excitement now.

The man...Severus, he called himself...asked, "You were able to find out about the magical world through books available in a Muggle library?"

"Muggle?" interjected Jane. "What does that mean?"

"It means a non-magical person. And no, I didn't find it all, not in one place. I had to piece it together from little tidbits I found scattered across lots of different books, most of them written by... well, I guess my teacher at school would call them quacks."

With the exchange growing more outlandish by the moment, I finally overcame the sheer incredulity that was keeping me from saying my fill. As if awakening from a bad dream, I found my voice again. "Magic? Witchcraft? You have a lot of nerve, sauntering into my house and accusing my daughter of this fairytale nonsense!"

The infuriating man threw a haughty expression my way. "You would do well to reserve judgment, sir, for you know nothing of this. The concept is... difficult for minds such as yours to grasp without evidence."

"Minds such as mine?" I began, but he stood before I had a chance to pummel his nasty attitude into the ground. Something about him...his steely eyes or perhaps the unnerving steadiness of his voice...caused me to reconsider the wisdom in sinking my fists into him.

"Observe," he said coldly, taking out a stick from inside his cape. He muttered then waved it about, and the coffee table took to the air, bobbing right before our disbelieving eyes.

"Oh!" our daughter cried in delight.

"This has got to be a joke," Jane whispered.

Spinning around, he aimed the stick at the fireplace where a flame immediately flared to life in spite of the July heat.

"Most Muggles require a parlor trick or two in order to convince themselves of a very simple truth." The man returned to his seat, movements filled with fluid grace. "Your daughter is magical. Ignore this fact at your own peril."

"Well," I bit out, "I'm not convinced, I hope you'll understand. You're expecting two individuals with multiple post-graduate degrees to believe in magic. Jeanie, you think you can do these sorts of tricks, too? "

The man rose from his chair, causing me to immediately follow suit. "She cannot be prevailed upon to demonstrate, Dr. Granger. She is not yet adequately trained, and in our world, it is not permissible for an underage witch to practice magic. You have seen what I have done with your own eyes. Trust your senses or not, it is entirely up to you."

Jane took a hold of Jeanie's chin and peered into the rich brown hues of the eyes we had come to know so well and swept a hand over the wild curls which were a carbon copy of her own. "Are...are you sure?" my wife whispered as she held Jeanie close, cupping her cheeks and examining her as if she might find proof somewhere. "How can this be? All this time, we didn't know about this... world."

"Judging by your current reactions, is it any wonder the knowledge was kept from you?" the man scoffed. "Would you have been willing to renounce your logic, your vaunted laws of physics, your infallible doctrines and theories, and your impenetrable understanding of the world to accept a magical being in your midst who could sweep all that aside with a wave of her wand?"

"That is an unfair assessment, Mr. Snape!" I replied heatedly. "We love Jeanie... no matter what she is," I finished the last bit hesitantly. I simply could not believe that I was accepting the premise that she really was a... witch.

"Commendable, certainly," the professor pronounced. "However, I have no doubt you would have institutionalized your daughter had she come to you on her own with her discoveries. It has been happening for centuries to witches and wizards, and it still continues today. The tendency to mistrust those who are different is universal." The professor's tone was strangely hard.

An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air.

Finally, Jane cleared her throat. "Jeanie, why don't you go ahead and open that letter?"

"Dear Miss Granger," my daughter read in her clear, strong voice. "We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress..."

She lowered the letter and looked at me with eyes that shone bright with pleasure. I opened my mouth then shut it again as I clumsily shifted through the jumble of thoughts in my brain. Shakily, I turned to Mr. Snape and inquired, "What must I do?"

"Affix your signature to the Terms of Acceptance. And submit to a Fidelius Charm in keeping with the International Statute of Secrecy."

I took a deep breath and nodded. One look at Jeanie's eyes had cemented my decision. Even if this magic school business was codswallop, her birth...her very existence...was pure magic.