Chapter One: Renaissance

Chapter One: Renaissance

Hermione paused a moment to let the disagreeable sensation of Apparating pass. But the trip from her parents' home in Cornwall to Ottery St. Catchpole was relatively short, so she was fit to head up the hidden drive soon enough.

The early-June afternoon sunshine was pleasant on her bare arms, and she smiled as the sounds of youthful laughter and joyful shouting penetrated the hedgerow. The Burrow was controlled chaos at its best, and now she was a grandmother, Molly Weasley ensured her home was always a happy place. Realising how much she'd missed being a regular part of that happiness over the past two years, Hermione quickened her pace.

"Hermione! It's about time you got here!" Harry greeted her almost before she'd cleared the privet. Clearly, he'd been watching out for her. "You could have Apparated to the top of the drive, you know," he scolded. "The wards aren't so picky these days."

She noticed Ron was standing just off to Harry's side, and she ran the last few yards to reach them.

"I'm right on time," she said, falling into Harry's exuberant embrace. "And I needed the walk to prepare myself."

Ron's hug was gentler, but no less heartfelt. "Missed you," he murmured in her ear as she squeezed him in return.

"Me too. Thanks for inviting me."

Then he pulled away just enough to smile down at her as he ruffled her hair, and she knew they were all right, despite everything.

She linked arms with both men as they walked towards the rambling, ramshackle house.

Her relationship with Ron hadn't always been so easy. Distance hadn't been a problem once she'd done her seventh year and trained for her new career at Dovewede School for Squib Integration's makeshift Hogwarts unit. She'd chosen Exeter because it was the only university offering her course that was also somewhat near her parents. That the city was practically next door to the Weasleys' village was an added bonus. It should have been perfect.

But the demands of their individual studies and career training – and Hermione's complete inability to speak about most of her new life under most circumstances, combined with her desire to spend as much time as she could with her parents – would probably have taken a toll even if...

"Hermione!"

Angelina Weasley waved happily at them from the side garden, and Hermione found her smile growing. It was hard to remain pensive amid a glut of Weasleys!

Breaking free of the boys, Hermione went to hug Angelina.

"Where's the baby?"

Angelina sighed dramatically and pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead.

"Our resident babysitter has only just rescued me from his clutches," she said. "For the next half hour, at least, I'm as footloose and fancy free as you lot! Or nearly." She tapped her right ear, and for the first time, Hermione noticed a bit of brown string dangling from it. "One of George's latest inventions. Portable Extendable Ear. I wanted one of those Muggle baby monitors, but this is even better! It goes wherever Freddy is without me having to follow too closely."

Hermione laughed and allowed Angelina to lead her to the back of the house. It was a long way round, and the two women chatted about anything and everything (but nothing very important) as they walked. Harry and Ron trailed behind them, engrossed in a conversation consisting of Auror Office gossip from what Hermione caught of it.

"It's like he never died, he's with us so much," Angelina was saying. "I can't think how he manages to do any real work when it seems like he's always at the shop with George!"

Shaking her head and smiling, Hermione wondered about that, too. Then a thought made her stop walking. Angelina stopped beside her.

"What is Fred's real work? He didn't say when he told Ron it was okay to go to Australia with me, and I never thought to ask later."

"Funny you should ask." Angelina giggled and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Come on. I'll show you."

It wasn't long before they'd reached the back garden and the source of all the happy screaming.

A cluster of small children were draped all over a tall, rail-thin man reclining on a battered chaise longue. Two tiny girls with red-gold pigtails and a little boy whose sleek hair fluctuated between teal blue and midnight black surrounded the chaise in an ever-fluctuating dance along the man's prone body. A baby, probably still too small to toddle, clung to the man's shoulders and shook a head full of brown curls that glinted red in the sunlight.

Hermione watched as the children changed position as often as the bigger boy's hair changed colour, the lot of them giggling at whatever game they were playing with their minder. A laughing Fred Weasley – more opaque than she'd seen him since his death – hovered above the fracas while encouraging the kids.

The other man didn't smile or laugh, but as she and Angelina moved closer, she noted that he occasionally stuck out a hand to tickle one of his tormentors with long, pale fingers. Shock compelled Hermione to stop in her tracks for the second time.

The baby started to slide down the man's torso and grabbed two inky-looking hanks of hair to steady himself. Fred laughed, and the man frowned heavily before placing a large hand under the child's bottom. As the other kids continued to dart in and out and around him, he settled the baby against his shoulder again.

Hermione turned to a grinning Angelina to ask, "Severus Snape is Fred's work?"

"See, or rather, hear for yourself."

Angelina pulled an Extendable Ear with Snitch-like wings from the pocket of her jeans and released it into the air. As it winged its way over towards the huge old oak, she dipped into her pocket again and fished out a second brown string.

Almost giddy with curiosity, Hermione let her friend slip the cord into her ear.

"Oh, wow," she murmured as she listened.

"Go' you, Unglewus!"

At least that was how Snape heard it.

Tiny fingers dug into his side, less-than-adroit little fingers (painfully) attempting to tickle. Severus managed to suppress a grimace of distaste lest his audience mistake it for a smile. Snaking an arm about two-year-old Dominique's waist, he lifted the young witch onto his lap. Her happy shrieks made her cousin giggle and coo and flap his arms. Two fat fists, small but powerful (as Severus knew from experience), only just missed his nose.

No wonder the, er... nipper's mother keeps dropping him into my lap. Feisty little thing. I should count my blessings he's too young to participate in this ridiculous game.

Make Uncle Rus Smile was the Lupin brat's invention, and as the oldest and bravest of the pack of wild... children besieging Molly Weasley's garden, he was also usually the victor.

At least "story-time" is over, Severus reminded himself.

Unfortunately, the narrow escape from the Fists of Fred wasn't the end of Snape's torture. As "Uncle Rus" snapped his head out of Freddy Weasley's reach, Teddy took advantage of the momentary distraction to launch a full-scale assault.

He watched the boy's short blue hair darken to midnight black and pool over skinny shoulders. Sun-browned skin faded to a waxen pallor. But the best part was when, eyes on either side of it squeezed shut in concentration, Teddy's nose began to lengthen and take on a discernible curve.

Severus had to bite his tongue to keep from smirking. The werewolf's boy showed improvement every time they met!

"Oi, Sev! Teddy's the one that's got you!" Fred Weasley the First, Irritating Spirit Guide Extraordinaire, pointed a translucent finger and cackled.

"He has not."

Severus thinned his lips to prove his point. But even as he did, Bill Weasley's older girl turned her attention to young Lupin, pawing at the boy as if he really were her fearsome "Uncle Rus" and giggling. The comical sight caught him unawares and he was forced to duck his head, hiding a smile behind a curtain of his own hair and the baby's curls.

"You're smiling, aren't you?" Fred teased.

"No."

"Liar!"

Snape lifted his head to find four pairs of eyes aimed at him. Two each of blue and brown.

Brown?

He watched as Teddy Lupin's face morphed from a reasonable facsimile of his own to... a truly atrocious version of his guide's.

"Merlin, Fred!" he snapped, shifting the spirit's namesake to his side. "Now see what you've done? Ted was looking splendid only moments ago."

"Ded!" said Freddy.

Five pairs of eyes turned to the baby.

"Good boy, Freddy! Ted does look as handsome as Uncle Fred, doesn't he?" Fred asked (fortuitously killing any desire Severus had to smile).

Freddy pointed an accusing finger at his "handsome" uncle. "Ded!" he insisted. Slapping his own chest, he added, "Fed!"

For a moment, a profound silence reigned. The children all stared in wonder at the exaggerated expression of hurt distorting the dead man's face.

Snape threw his head back and howled.

Hermione arranged the last plate-setting to her satisfaction, then stepped aside, giving George space to position two jugs of pumpkin juice and a pitcher of water at the centre of the far end of the table.

"Kid zone," he told her, as if the smaller proliferation of smaller plates interspersed among three larger ones didn't say as much. "We usually take turns. Helping Sev. This week it's Percy and Andromeda. If we're lucky, she'll be too busy seeing to the kiddies to stop him getting hexed!"

Hermione decided not to ask which "him" George meant.

Their assigned tasks complete, they chose to linger outside near the table rather than risk getting chased out of Molly Weasley's kitchen. George filled a few blanks Harry and Ron and Angelina hadn't.

How... bizarre, Hermione couldn't stop thinking. Many things had changed since the end of the war; some changes were stranger than others.

"Harry told you about the cat, yeah? He didn't reckon on this being the result." He gestured towards the little group beneath the tree. "None of us did."

A burst of laugher – only just audible across the garden, but clear as anything via the Extendable Ear – left her wide-eyed and slack-jawed. The sound was deep and full of joy... and like nothing she'd ever before. Like nothing she'd ever expected to hear.

Her companion chuckled at her reaction.

"I can hardly believe what I'm seeing," Hermione murmured, turning back to George. "Or hearing. It was strange enough when he was telling stories, but..."

He grinned, shaking his head. "Happens nearly every Sunday, but it's usually not this good. Though, one time, Fred..."

"Dinner!"

Molly Weasley's call startled the two and started the kids tumbling back towards the house, shouting to all and sundry as they came.

"Gran, Freddy did it!"

"Freddy made Uncle Rus laugh, Papa!"

"Unglewus silly!"

Hermione and Angelina made their way around the long table as Snape followed at a more leisurely pace, Angelina's son nestled in his arms. Just as Hermione started to take her seat, she noticed a brown blur of fur hurtle itself onto his free shoulder.

Like everything about the Burrow, mealtime was controlled chaos. Laughter, chatter and good-natured teasing were traded more often than serving dishes filled with Molly's excellent food.

Snape – the blur with long mousy-brown fur (a cat, Harry claimed) draped round his shoulders – was seated too far away for her to speak with him easily. And besides, he seemed rather occupied. When he wasn't answering one of the children's questions or exhorting another to at least try her broccoli, he was trading jibes and smiles with the rest of the Weasleys.

Hermione noticed Victoire wasn't the only one who hesitated to try the vegetable Snape had called broccolo Romanesco when Molly asked him to repeat its name. The spiralling fractal flowers were clearly not a Weasley staple.

"Everyone is going to try this nice broccoli Severus was kind enough to grow for me," Molly had ordered at the start of the meal. But she, the wizard himself and Hermione had so far been the only ones to actually eat what was on their plates.

It was weird to see how at ease Snape was surrounded by loads of Weasleys, a brace of Potters, a Lupin and a Tonks. But he clearly wasn't uncomfortable, and Hermione thought again of how much she'd missed over the past two years.

Even though Molly had chased most of her children and all of her grandchildren (and her son-in-law's godchild, whom she considered an honorary grandchild, anyway) into the sitting room, the Weasley kitchen was nearly as noisy as the back garden had been.

Percy, Fleur and Harry, wearing aprons and wielding large spoons, dipped into a dozen pots of ice cream while chattering loudly over the clattering of mismatched bowls.

At first Hermione wasn't sure why she'd been asked to stay behind: there didn't seem to be anything for her to do. But then Molly pulled out two small containers from behind some jars in the charmed cold storage, holding up an expensive espresso-flavoured ice cream for Hermione's inspection.

"I've been saving this for you, dear. Ron tells me you prefer this one," the older witch said. "Without any extras?" she added sceptically.

Touched at such thoughtfulness, Hermione smiled and assured her hostess that Ron had been correct.

"I always do Severus's myself, as well," Molly confided. She tapped the lid with her wand and deftly transferred three scoops into a bright orange bowl with her other hand. "I'm the only one who can make it just as he likes it."

Another tap of her wand removed the Chilling Charm from the second pot. In a matter of seconds, Molly filled three scoops of the triple-chocolate dessert in a brown bowl with yellow flowers. She drizzled a generous helping of chocolate syrup over that before crumbling a handful of Chocolate Digestives on top.

"He'll be hiding down under the tree," Molly murmured, jabbing a whole biscuit onto the dark brown mound. "Take this out to him, love, will you?"

Hermione eyed the over-sweet concoction, half-amused, half-doubtful. Who'd have guessed the formerly acerbic former Potions master had a sweet tooth?

Picking up on the doubt, Molly assured her, "Trust me, love it really is his favourite." She turned back to supervise the others, wiping her spotless hands on her equally spotless apron.

Hermione had almost made it out the door when she called out, "Wait, dear! I forgot the Chocolate Tadpoles!"

She found him sitting where she'd first spotted him. This time, instead of four kids poking and prodding at him, there was only a small lump of wildly curling brown fur purring in his lap.

"Harry told me you own a cat." She placed both bowls on the arm the chaise longue, sank down onto the grass and drew her knees up to her chest. "Is it a Selkirk Rex? I read in Felid Fancy there's plans to import them this year."

"She is not."

Hermione flushed at her gaffe. She should have known Snape would be overly fussy about his pet. The cat in question opened blacks just long enough to give her a slow blink.

Great. Even his cat is offended.

"Sorry," she said aloud. "She's lovely, though."

"You would think so," Snape muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

Not wanting quarrel about his manners, she reached over and picked up her bowl. He glanced at her as she brought a spoonful of fragrant espresso ice cream to her mouth, but didn't leave off stroking his cat to try his own chocolate monstrosity.

"If she's not..." she started ask just as he said silkily, "I was surprised you could take time out of your busy schedule to join us today, Ms Granger."

Instinct urged her to snap back, but he smiled almost pleasantly as he lifted his spoon. That was disconcerting enough to still her tongue until a cooler mindset won out.

"Term's over," she said when nothing better came to mind. "Graduation is next month. I expect I did well on my exams."

"Of course."

She looked at him sharply, but couldn't detect any sign of nastiness in his expression. If anything, he looked almost congenial. But the silence that followed his observation was uncomfortable, all the same.

"Is she a part-Kneazle, then?" Hermione nodded at the mass of bushy fur still purring contentedly. Feigning interest in his cat wasn't likely to lead her astray, was it? As long as she used the correct pronoun. "I've never seen a cat with black eyes before."

"Kneazles aren't the only magical felines." Looking as if there was more he wanted to say, but didn't dare, Snape sighed.

"I don't know as much about magical pets as I'd like," Hermione said with a rueful smile. She desperately hoped her admission was a good enough excuse. "I was so focussed on finishing up at Hogwarts, catching up at Dovewede and getting through uni, I didn't really have time for pleasure reading until now. But, what's her name?"

"Why are you wasting your time asking questions you don't really want answered?" he snapped.

The purring stopped as if a switch had been flipped. The cat's back snapped into a high arch, her fur on end and her claws firmly planted into Snape's thighs. Hermione winced at the sight.

The cat turned to face her master and hissed.

"Yes, Mum," Snape said through clenched teeth. "My apologies, Ms Granger: I should not have lost my temper."

The cat settled down as if nothing had happened.

"She's called 'Mum'?" It seemed a silly thing to name a cat – especially a cat owned by Severus Snape. But then, today she'd witnessed Severus Snape playing with children, so... "I mean, it's an... interesting name. I once knew a woman who had sixteen cats. The oldest two were called 'Mother' and 'Daughter' because one was pregnant with the other when she – my neighbour, I mean – rescued them. Even though she was only a kitten, practically. Mother, I mean." Hermione knew she was babbling and had presence of mind enough to stop herself. "So, was there any reason you named her...?"

"No."

"No?"

"As her name is not 'Mum', that is not the reason behind her name."

"But you just..."

"She is a nagging, interfering bossyboots. A role common to mums the world over, don't you agree?" Snape said, not unkindly. Perhaps even fondly. A faint smile crossed his face as he glanced up. It was scary. "Ms Hermione Granger," he said formally, "I should like to introduce you to Miss Knowi Tall."

"Knowi, dear," he added in a saccharine voice that was even more disturbing than the smile had been, "I'm sure you'll be pleased to meet your eponym, Ms Granger."

"My eyes are brown."

"Yes, well, you never were as perfect as you thought you should be, hmm, Miss Granger?" Knowi turned to look at him again, and he muttered a hasty apology. "In order to stop me getting more holes in my skin, perhaps we should talk about something else. Someone else," he suggested. "Try to tell me about your work."

The abrupt change caught Hermione unprepared. "I ca..."

"Try," he repeated firmly.

Completely convinced the words would constrict her throat or devolve into complete gibberish as she spoke, she said, "A few weeks after the end of the war, Kingsley came to me with an offer." She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the discomfort she knew from experience accompanied attempts to explain her position. "It was an opportunity to work for a secret division within the Department of Mysteries – S.A.M.E. It stands for..."

He smiled as she broke off, and Hermione stared at him in wonder.

"How...?" She swallowed again and licked her lips. "I've never been able to do that before!"

Snape chuckled. The sound was surprisingly pleasant, nothing like the derisive laughter she remembered from her student days.

"SAME don't only target Muggle-borns," he told her. "Half-bloods with a Muggle parent are nearly as useful to them."

"You were... But I thought S.A.M.E. was only established after the war!"

He rolled his eyes, but no disdainful sneer followed that action.

"Think, Ms Granger," he said. "Could the Ministry really have established a new division so quickly? Even with Kingsley at the reins, they can't move that fast with something that... far-reaching."

Hermione bit her lip, nodding, but not looking at him.

Of course S.A.M.E. must have been around for ages! She'd known that at least part of the programme must have existed for some time, but the Division of Squib Adjustment and Muggle-born Equality as a whole? Existing even back when the Ministry hadn't believed Voldemort was much of a threat?

"Of course, it must have been conceived when he was at his worst the first time round," she murmured aloud.

"Before that," Snape put in. "As much as it pains me to say it, not everyone in the Ministry was totally incompetent, even then."

She looked at him sharply.

"But they offered you a position?" Realising how that must have sounded, she flushed.

He only laughed – bringing a healthy-looking bit of colour to his pallid face – and said, "Of course they did. You weren't the first brilliant witch or wizard to go through Hogwarts, and I actually remained all seven years."

"You refused?" She didn't know what to make of this teasing Severus Snape, and her tone remained serious. "Why?"

He looked away, and she noticed his cheek lost some of its recently gained colour.

"I had what I thought was a better offer."

Not wanting to stir up troubled waters any more than she already had, she spoke quietly. "And you... never told?"

The left side of his mouth ticked up a bit, but she didn't see any crinkles form at the corner of his eye the way they had done when he'd smiled with the children.

"Need I remind you I am one of the strongest Occlumens known to have ever existed?" He turned to her then, and she could see that the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Besides, the offer was made with a modified Fidelius Charm, just as it is now. That is why you can talk about it with me without choking on your tongue or spewing nonsense."

"Oh." She felt stupid saying it, but what else was there to say that wouldn't invite his ire – and another painful admonition from Knowi?

"My companion," Snape said, apparently apropos nothing, "is rightly called a member of Felis vilicus venencificia, more commonly known as 'Liverpudlian Rex'."

The dark patch just to the right of the back door made a perfect place for spying. The house itself blocked the glow of the moon, and the yellow light spilling from the ancient fixture above the stairs didn't reach very far.

"As much as I hate to admit it," Harry whispered, "I think you might be right."

He waited for Ron to crow in victory. When no such reaction was forthcoming, he let his gaze drift back over to the tableau his friend had never stopped watching. "I didn't see her eyeing him over dinner, but this... this is real, mate. What should we do?"

Ron's smile was slow and sort of scary, Harry thought. His friend's words were even worse.

"We do whatever we can to make sure Hermione gets what she needs," Ron said. "I think we might even find a solution to that other problem in the process."

A/N: Hugest thanks to linlawless for the beta and to karelia for the hand holding (and the "go ahead and post what you're ready to post!").