Chapter 3

A/N: I must crave the pardon of all and sundry as I confess my shame: I have neither the patience nor the desire to write the speech of Fleur Delacour as Jo does, with the French accent. If I tried to do it, I would be spending half my time searching the books to see if she ever said a particular word, and the canon-proper way of representing that word. I will instead write Fleur as if she speaks English like a pro, and ask all of the canon-hounds to forgive me. By all means, do as I do, and supply her with a French accent in your mind as you read.

Deepest curtseys to the doyennes of the beta world: Keladry Lupin and LariLee

These characters and this entire Potterverse are the property of the incomparable JKR.

Thou are not lovelier than lilacs, -- no,

Edna St. Vincent Millay

It was not until three days later that Hermione Granger arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She Apparated into the back garden, where a safe Apparition point had long been established, with Crookshanks and her trunk. Stormy Snape and her sixteen-year-old sister, Shadow, were in the basement kitchen baking cookies. They heard the ward alarm, which had been set to alert those in the house to the presence of visitors. The Snape girls raced up the steps to the solarium and threw the door open to see who had arrived.

Hermione was getting her bearings when the solarium door banged open, and two tow-headed girls erupted from the house; simultaneously, she heard her name shouted and whirled to see Harry and Ron racing across from the house whose back garden shared a common gated fence with the Black house.

She was laughing and hugging her best friends before she caught her breath properly; then she turned to greet the unfamiliar girls in the solarium doorway, who were looking a bit uncomfortable in the presence of the young wizards.

"Hullo," Hermione said with her friendliest Head-Girl smile. "I'm Hermione Granger."

The older girl spoke up. "We know! Ginny has photographs of you in her room." This young lady cast a look at the boys. "Of all of you, really."

Harry stepped forward and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Harry. You must be Professor Snape's sisters."

The smaller girl hopped up and down. "Harry Potter! Look, Shadow! It's really him!"

Ron squatted down so that he was on eye-level with the little girl. "And my name's Ron," he told her with a Weasley grin.

Shadow Snape regretfully released Harry's hand and touched her younger sister's shoulder. "This is Stormy -- she's eight," she said. She smiled at Hermione and offered her hand to Ron. "I'm Shadow and I'm sixteen. And we have an older sister; her name is Skye, and she's nineteen."

Ron shook the offered hand, a slight frown marring his freckled face. "Sixteen? I don't remember seeing you at Hogwarts."

Shadow shook her head, causing her yellow hair to fly about her face. "We always had tutors and a governess," she explained. "Papa said that we couldn't go to Hogwarts because our brother taught there."

"I believe that's enough family history for one day, Shadow," a stern voice said from the solarium doorway.

Snape stood just inside the room, watching with near-physical distaste while his sisters fawned over the Dunderheaded Duo. The girls, chastened, filed back into the room. "Is that your mess in the kitchen?" he asked them. When they nodded, he said, "Perhaps you had best return to your project, so that the house-elves won't be complaining to your mama about extra work."

Having dispatched the girls handily, he turned his attention to the three still standing on the lawn. "I see you found us, Miss Granger," he said, ignoring Potter and Weasley.

Hermione gave him a cheeky smile. "Hullo, Professor! Your sisters are lovely girls!"

Snape gave her an icy stare. "Do you need assistance to bring your luggage inside?" he inquired pointedly.

"We'll get it, Hermione," Harry said, levitating the trunk with his wand. "We were coming over to talk to Ginny anyway," he added in Snape's direction.

Snape stood aside to allow Potter and Weasley to pass him with the trunk. In the split moment that he took his eyes off Granger, a large black dog came bounding up, barking and wagging its tail. Snape felt himself bristling, as if he were the Animagus. Before he could think of anything appropriately nasty to say, the dog had become Sirius Black, and he had Hermione in a rib-cracking embrace.

With a muttered oath, Snape slammed the solarium door and stalked back to the library.

Sirius grinned at the door. "In a snit this morning, is he?"

Hermione linked her arm through his and led him over to a bench set beneath a beech tree. "Is he ever not in a snit?" She sat down and waited for the handsome wizard to sit beside her. He had finally begun to lose that starved, stretched look that twelve years in Azkaban Prison had left on him, and was once again recognizable as the man who laughed in the elder Potters' wedding photographs.

Sirius was fully aware of her scrutiny, as he settled himself on the bench. He shook his black hair back and slanted a look down at Hermione's inquisitive face with his laughing grey eyes. "Did I miss a spot shaving?" he asked her teasingly.

"No, Sirius, you look smashing, as I'm sure your mirror has told you," she replied with some asperity. "You really are enjoying yourself these days, aren't you?"

He let loose the laugh he had been containing. "Immensely, love. I've gone from Death Eater Black, convicted murderer and denizen of Azkaban Prison, to War Hero Black, eligible bachelor and prize of the marriage market, almost overnight. I have women chasing me all over town. I don't know when I've had such a good time."

Crookshanks jumped up into Sirius' lap, purring. Sirius began to scratch the ginger cat's head, watching the slightly disapproving look on Hermione's face. "You really can't object, you know," he reminded her.

Hermione snorted. "You were drunk, Sirius. I make it a habit to never accept marriage proposals from drunken men."

Sirius set Crookshanks on the grass and stood, brushing cat fur from his trousers. "How many times have I asked since then?"

Hermione waved a hand at him. "You know you would never have asked if Harry hadn't put the idea in your head, Sirius."

"I might have done, Hermione." He reached out and touched her hair. "We have to marry someone before the New Year. Wouldn't you prefer to marry someone who loves you?"

Hermione smiled up at him. "We aren't in love, Sirius. I would rather not marry someone whom I consider as family, if I can help it."

Sirius shrugged and looked away from her, directing his attention to the back windows of the house.

"Why in the name of Merlin is Snape glaring at me from my father's library?" he wondered out loud.

Hermione looked up at the window Sirius indicated. "I don't see him."

Sirius shook his head, a crooked grin on his face. "No, he moved right quickly when he saw me looking." He took Hermione's hands and pulled her to her feet. "I have to get back over to the house; Remus and I are supervising the boys to the Ministry do tonight, and we have some counselling to do beforehand."

"Sirius," Hermione said, hesitantly, "what are you doing with Tonks?"

"Second cousins can marry," he said, defensively.

"MARRY?" she said.

"Never mind. I'm not doing anything with Tonks, Hermione. I've got to go, now."

Hermione stood chewing on her lip as she watched Sirius cross the garden and go through the gate to the other house; then she scooped up her cat and headed into the solarium of Grimmauld Place. So many people with so many problems! It was a good thing her parents had taken her suggestion to go to Ibiza for the summer; she was definitely needed here.

Hermione sat in the chair in her bedroom, stroking Crookshanks and watching Winky as she unpacked her trunk. After a moment, there was a swift knock at her bedroom door, and a vision of loveliness appeared in the doorway. Hermione smiled broadly.

"Please come in! I don't have to ask who you are; I met your sisters in the garden. You must be Skye! I'm Hermione Granger."

The other girl came forward eagerly, a small smile on her lips. "Yes, I'm Skye. It's good to meet you."

Skye's hair was golden blonde and was French braided into a long plait down her back. Her eyes were the same bright blue as her sisters'. Her skin seemed to have a faint glow, tinted in damask and rose, and her lips were a perfect bow. Hermione couldn't help thinking that the girl was a piece of perfection.

"Are you sure you're related to Professor Snape?" she said unguardedly.

Skye laughed. "We aren't much alike, are we? Everyone says we girls look just like our mum. Severus looks like Papa. But all four of us have the Snape bump."

Hermione wondered for a moment if she really wanted to know. "The Snape bump?"

Skye turned her head, showing her classical profile, and indicated the upper lobe of her ear. Hermione leaned forward politely, to watch as Skye ran a fingertip along the topmost portion of the outer rim of her ear; near the apex, there was indeed a very slight irregularity.

"I would never have noticed that if you hadn't pointed it out to me," Hermione commented.

"It is a very small thing, but both of my sisters have the same oddity; it's the kind of thing children will notice, you know." Skye slipped down to sit on the rug near Hermione's feet, her legs curled under her, before continuing with her explanation. "We hardly ever saw our brother when we were growing up; it was all very mysterious. Later, we understood that it was because of his part in the War. But one time, when he came to visit us over the summer hols, we went on a picnic with him. Shadow showed him the bump on her ear, and then Stormy and I showed ours."

Hermione kept an attentive expression on her face, trying not to let her fertile imagination run away with the vision of her Potions professor on a picnic, buttoned up to the throat in black wool and eating hard-boiled eggs with his fingers.

Skye smiled reminiscently. "It was the oddest thing because Severus was always so stiff with us, while we just swarmed all over him like kittens. We had photographs of him, but because he seldom visited, he was just so puzzling to us. We made up the silliest stories about him and the adventures we imagined him to be having, living away from us all the time.

"Anyway, when he had looked at the bumps on our ears, he pulled his hair back from his face and showed us the very same bump on his own ear -- and, do you know, from that time on, he became much friendlier to us. Almost like a real brother."

Hermione was distracted by Winky's announcement that the unpacking was complete; she thanked the house-elf courteously and told her she could go. After Winky Disapparated, Hermione stood and went to open the door to her wardrobe. "We're going to a Ministry party tonight, aren't we?"

Skye nodded. "Yes, we'll be going after dinner." She went to stand beside the other girl, considering the clothes hanging before them. "Oh, you have so many Muggle things!" she said enviously.

"Yes, my parents are Muggles, so I never knew I was a witch until I got my Hogwarts letter," Hermione explained. She eyed Skye carefully. "We're very much the same size, if you'd like to borrow something to wear tonight."

Skye's face lit up. "Could I? That would be brilliant!" She lifted a sky blue mini-dress with a halter neck and held it before her, eagerly looking into the mirror.

Hermione stood back. "That exactly matches your eyes -- it's perfect!" She rummaged about in a drawer and pulled out a silvery shawl. "I always wear this with it; your back will be rather bare, and it can get chilly."

At the word "bare," Skye's face fell. "Severus will never let me wear this."

Hermione snorted. "Stuff! What has he to say about it, pray tell? Isn't your mum here?"

"Yes, Mum is here, but she always does what Severus wants her to do. He is... difficult to withstand."

Hermione lifted her chin. "Yes, I know all about his bossy and overbearing ways." There was a slight narrowing of her eyes, as if she were seeing a distant memory. "However, I am no longer his student, and I do not intend to allow him to act like a despot where I'm concerned -- not ever again! And you mustn't let him compel you to do what you don't wish to do, Skye. It only encourages him. He isn't your papa, after all."

Skye watched this unaccountable girl with mingled doubt and hope. She had yet to see anyone win out over her autocratic brother, but perhaps this young witch would do so. Hermione wasn't really a pretty girl, in the usual sense, but her large brown eyes and expressive mouth gave her a striking appearance, and she was certainly full of resolution. Skye decided that Hermione probably had plenty of boys who liked her -- especially if she got to wear these clothes!

In a trice, Hermione had helped Skye change into the blue dress and carefully arranged the shawl over her elbows.

"Do I dare?" Skye breathed, staring at her own reflection in the mirror.

Hermione headed for the door. "Let's go and ask your mum; if she gives her permission, then Severus can have nothing to say about it."

Skye followed her into the corridor. "Mum's room is on the next floor up... Oh, I hope she says yes!"

Snape strode out of his room and headed down the stairs to the sitting room. It was the habit of the house for everyone to meet in the sitting room for a drink before dinner was served; Severus hoped there would be fewer dunderheaded wizards present to disturb his enjoyment of his meal tonight than had been his luck earlier this week. McGonagall permitted any and all male callers to receive dinner invitations from the young ladies, with no notice whatsoever. It was true that the house-elves prepared enough food at each meal to feed an army, but the strain of being sociable with former students was almost more than Snape could bear.

He reached the first floor sitting room just as the doorbell chimed, and McGonagall's voice floated up, greeting the newcomer. Severus went quickly into the sitting room and found himself unexpectedly face to face with his fiancée.

Fleur Delacour, a stunning beauty with a sheet of silvery blond hair falling down her back, advanced on Snape with her hands outstretched and a pleasant smile fixed on her face. He was forced to take her hands, though he released them again as quickly as possible, much to the apparent amusement of the other occupants of the room, who had already served themselves from the drinks tray.

"Is it not wonderful that Mère could spare me to dine with you tonight?" she said to him, taking hold of his upper arm in a proprietary way.

"I count myself most fortunate," he said, escorting her to a chair away from the chattering youngsters. "May I pour you a drink?" he inquired with faultless courtesy, his hand hovering between the sherry and the claret.

Snape poured the sherry she requested and handed her the goblet, staying on his feet near her chair, engaging her in quiet conversation, all the while keeping a sharp eye on the couples seated on the settees. Katie Bell was sitting beside George Weasley, who was telling a particularly funny story, if one were to judge by the volume of laughter. Cho Chang sat beside Roger Davies, her pretty face animated in enjoyment. Ginny Weasley sat beside her brother, laughing with the others, but Snape could clearly see that her heart wasn't in it. He made a mental note to ask McGonagall what -- or whom -- Miss Weasley was mooning over. Luna Lovegood and Alicia Spinnet sat together, poring over some sort of catalogue.

Sophronia Snape entered the room with her daughters surrounding her and Hermione Granger bringing up the rear. Sophronia was a woman of only slightly faded beauty; her luxurious golden waves were perhaps helped along a bit by a charm now, but her face and figure retained a large part of her youthful beauty. Her eyes were a blue so clear that it was almost startling, and each of her three daughters had her eyes, as well as fair hair in various shadings. Granger, following them into the room, looked almost like a gypsy with her dark hair and dark eyes; it was her demeanour, however, that drew all of the eyes in the room to her. George Weasley stood up and greeted her as if she were a long-lost relative. Snape watched with perturbation as she returned Weasley's hug, and then dispensed her greetings to the other occupants of the room like a queen greeting her subjects -- or, so it seemed to him.

With careful cordiality, Granger approached him. "Good evening, Professor Snape. Thank you so much for allowing me to come and stay while my parents are away." Granger then held out a hand to Fleur. "Congratulations on your engagement," she said, including Snape also in the warm smile she gave to his fiancée.

Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement of Granger's felicitations, bothered by some expression that seemed to lurk at the back of her eyes. Was she laughing at him? For what? Did she dare?

Snape became aware of his fiancée's eyes upon him, and quickly looked away from Granger. He spied his eldest sister, Skye, in animated conversation with Davies, apparently much to the annoyance of Miss Chang. Skye was wearing an indecently skimpy dress, like some common trollop. He crossed the room in two strides and spoke to her quietly.

"May I speak to you in the hallway, please?" It was a command, rather than a question.

Skye tilted her chin, in a move eerily familiar to him, and preceded him through the doorway. "What is it, Severus? I was having a nice conversation."

"Where did you get those clothes? Go upstairs and change at once." He was glowering at her, and his tone brooked no argument.

"Mum has approved this outfit, Severus. Why don't you speak to her about it?"

At that moment, McGonagall ascended the stairs, followed by Lee Jordan. McGonagall paused in the hallway to introduce Jordan to Skye; as she did so, Snape went back into the sitting room and once again stationed himself beside his fiancée, resolving to have a discussion with Sophronia at the next possible occasion concerning her lack of control over Skye.

Jordan entered the room, shook hands with the other young men, hugged Granger, and greeted Snape politely, before taking his place on the settee between Lovegood and Spinnet and engaging them in conversation.

Snape was immensely thankful when they were called to the dinner table by a bowing Winky.

The Ministry function that night was an informal dance, followed by a midnight champagne supper. Snape and McGonagall escorted their charges into the Ministry ballroom, which had been magically transformed into a flower-scented garden beneath a clear star-studded sky. At the request of the young people, there was no live band tonight; instead, a committee of the recent Hogwarts graduates had compiled a play list of popular songs, which were even now playing from strategically placed speakers. After seeing each of the girls safely into the building, and carefully patrolling the perimeter of the room for signs of danger, Snape stationed himself near Fleur and the crowd of newly-seventeen-year-old wizards who were currently making fools of themselves to attract her attention.

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, Snape marked the movements of the young women about the room. Miss Bell was dancing with George Weasley, Miss Chang was wrapped about Roger Davies, Miss Spinnet was talking animatedly with Lee Jordan, while Nymphadora Tonks and Ginny Weasley sat together at one of the small round tables drinking punch and watching the others dance. Luna Lovegood was winding her way through the dancers with no apparent destination; she had that oddball, dreamy look on her face that made Snape think it would take an act of the Wizengamot to make a man marry the girl.

Moving about the room, greeting people and exchanging hugs, was Hermione Granger. It appeared that she knew every male in attendance, regardless of whether or not that person had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Scarcely a man was passed by without a hug, or a handshake and a laughing remark. It was true, as Head Girl at Hogwarts, every student had recognized her and known her name; it was also true that her part in the defeat of Voldemort had made her face familiar to anyone who read the Daily Prophet. But did that mean that she had to touch every man in the room? The chit was impossible. McGonagall would have to deal with her; Snape was damned if he'd be fussed.

"She is very popular," an annoyed voice commented.

Snape looked away from Granger to find Fleur watching him with dangerously narrowed eyes.

"Yes, too popular," he said dismissively. "Shall we dance?"

As the current tune was something with a slow tempo, Snape felt confident in leading Fleur into the dance; she came willingly into his arms, mollified for the moment by this mark of attention from him. When she pressed her cheek to his shoulder, closing her eyes with all the appearance of a young woman dancing with the man she loved, she missed the small detail of her betrothed continuing to follow Granger about the ballroom with his obsidian eyes.

Sirius Black arrived with his charges thirty minutes later. The young men of the Order, all of whom had won distinction on the field of battle, caused no small measure of excitement by their dramatic entrance. Young women around the room seemed to converge from every direction; before long, Black was spotted by a number of women in their thirties, and he too was besieged with requests.

Harry Potter took a step back from the crowd of girls surrounding his enthusiastic mates with a look of faint distaste on his face. He had been aware, since the beginning of his sixth year, that girls would do anything to gain the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived. That type of attraction held no allure for him; he was only interested in a girl who would like him for himself. With his hands in his pockets, his shock of black hair in its usual state of disarray, Harry wandered in the direction of the punch bowl, scanning the crowd for a familiar face, for someone he could talk to. Glancing around to make sure he was unobserved by his godfather or his former professors, he loosened his crimson and gold rep tie. From across the room, he heard a shout of laughter and recognized the voice of George Weasley. Turning to look, he spied George and Lee Jordan, surrounded by a number of girls; the prats were waltzing together. A relaxed grin spread across Harry's face, and he began to make his way across the room. He was halfway there when he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

Standing between Katie and Alicia was an angel. Her exquisite face, alight with mirth, was the prettiest he had ever seen. Her hair looked like spun gold, piled high on her head, with tendrils framing her face; her eyes were the exact colour of rain-drenched bluebells. Her figure, in that dress, made his mouth feel suddenly very dry. And in the very next moment, the angel looked up, and her gaze fell upon him. When their eyes met across the dance floor, he knew that she, too, was amazed. Without looking right or left, Harry walked to her with his back straight and his shoulders squared; he was a man with a mission.

Snape had courteously seated Fleur at a table with Nymphadora Tonks and Ginny Weasley, and gone to fetch a cup of punch for her, when he saw his sister glide into the arms of Harry Potter and out onto the dance floor. Damnation! How had Potter escaped from the groupies that had surrounded him when he entered the room? Snape had spoken to Skye about the young men of the Order, and he thought he had made it perfectly plain to her that she was to look elsewhere for a husband; he would not permit his sister to throw herself away on the likes of Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley or, Merlin save him, Neville Longbottom.

Making a slight detour past the throng of girls surrounding Finnegan, Longbottom, and Weasley, he tapped Draco Malfoy on the shoulder.

Draco turned to him, a look of utter boredom on his otherwise handsome features; when he saw Snape, the practiced smile on his lips actually touched his eyes.

"Sir! It's good to see you!" Draco then extended a hand. "Congratulations on your engagement -- when is the happy day?"

Snape placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, ignoring the offered handshake, and compelled Draco to walk with him. "Don't be asinine, Draco. Come with me; there is someone I want you to meet."

Draco agreeably accompanied Snape to the refreshment table. "Are you settled in at the Black house, sir?"

Snape growled at him, levitating three glasses of punch and leading the way back to the table where Fleur sat with Tonks and Miss Weasley, who were speaking together and pointedly ignoring her. Snape civilly presented each of the ladies with a glass of punch, before excusing himself. "I just need to make an introduction," he explained.

Keeping Draco by his side, he made a partial circuit of the room, watching Potter and Skye dancing slowly and deep in conversation. He was momentarily distracted by the Granger minx, dancing by in the arms of Sirius Black, who had escaped from the women his own age and was whispering something in Granger's ear that was outrageous enough to make her blush. Grinding his teeth together, he imagined Black hanging upside down from the ceiling of an empty dungeon at Hogwarts.

The vision was so pleasing to him that he almost missed his opportunity. When the song ended, he plotted a course across the floor that intersected neatly with Skye and Potter; before they properly knew what had happened to them, Snape had introduced Skye to Draco, and Draco had obediently whisked her off for a dance.

Potter's eyes tracked Skye jealously. Snape restrained himself from telling Potter he could damn well forget any pretensions he might have about pursuing his sister. Instead, he said, "You might ask Miss Weasley to dance, Potter. She hasn't stirred from that table since we arrived."

Potter led Miss Weasley out onto the dance floor, the two of them chatting with the ease of old friends. Snape watched them with something akin to approval; he found that he had no objection to Potter marrying into the Weasley family.

Unfortunately, while his mind was wandering, Sirius Black delivered Granger to Snape's table and absconded with Nymphadora Tonks. Snape was only alerted to this circumstance when he saw them dance by, Tonks with both arms shamelessly around Black's waist, while Black whispered undoubtedly indecent things in her ear. Snape thought, sourly, that all he lacked to make this scene complete would be the outraged werewolf, pacing the floor and fighting the urge to urinate on the walls to mark his territory.

"Professor?"

Snape was interrupted in his werewolf reverie by the Granger girl's voice. He turned to face her, seeing Fleur in the background, drinking her punch and keeping a vigilant eye on him.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" His tone conveyed boredom and scarcely veiled contempt.

"Would you dance with me?"

He actually stepped away from her in his apparent aversion. "I beg your pardon; I am pledged to Miss Delacour for this dance."

Fleur immediately stood and moved into his arms, saying, "Of course, darling," and twirling off, unable to prevent herself from throwing a triumphant look at Hermione as they danced away.

Hermione stood on her own at the edge of the dance floor, succumbing to a peal of laughter, wondering what would be the expression on the Potion master's face if he knew that she had cleared her request with Fleur before she asked him to dance.

For the rest of night, Snape alternated between running interference to keep Skye out of Potter's pocket and glowering as Granger danced with every unmarried male under the age of seventy in attendance at the party.

Except for him, of course.

Fleur went home early, pleading a headache.

Snape watched Tonks slip off with Black while Skye stole another dance with Potter and Granger laughed with yet another handsome young wizard. When his own migraine became unbearable, Snape consigned his charges to McGonagall's care, and with a thunderous look upon his pinched face, he Apparated to Grimmauld Place.

Slamming his way into the house, he entered the library, grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky from the table, and flung himself into a chair. Disdaining the goblets set out for his use, he put the bottle to his lips and felt the liquor burn its way down his throat. At least he would be spared the spectacle of Granger's behaviour at the champagne supper.

As he steadily drank his way through several ounces liquor, he did not stop to question why Granger's actions overshadowed those of his own sister in his troubled mind.

Nor did he stop to wonder why his affianced wife, Fleur Delacour, never once entered his thoughts.

A/N: The "Snape bump" has an origin in reality; my beloved Slytherin of a husband has this bump, which both of our children inherited from him.

I would like to give credit where credit is due; MagicAlly was kind enough to take time from her work day in London to answer my goofy e-mails with questions such as, "What do y'all eat on picnics over in England?"

On an amusing note, my dear Keladry Lupin sent me a link to a test to deterimine, "Which Harry Potter character has the same personality as you?" I took the test, and I'm Dumbledore. My husband took the test, and he's....SNAPE. Talk about laughing your arse off. He was still denying everything as I was writing to of all my particular friends to tell them I knew all along I was married to Snape. If you would like to take the test, the link is here: http://piratemonkeysinc.com/quiz.htm