As Past and Present Collide

Thank you to Pookah for acting as a sounding board when I had a brain freeze, and to DuchessOfArcadia and EverMystique for their beta work to make this presentable for you.

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As Past and Present Collide

~Summer 1999~

Hermione entered her room on the last day at Hogwarts to find Kippy folding all her clothes and repacking her trunk, his shoulders slumped and his ears hanging low as if sad to see the students leaving. “Kippy almost done, miss,” the elf said as he made sure every pleat of her skirt was sitting perfectly before folding it neatly.

Hermione was flabbergasted, watching how carefully he was treating her clothes and books. She looked around, trying to recall a time, if there ever was a time, when a house-elf was seen in her dorms. She knew that they came in here, but not while the students were about, surely.

The house-elf stood and looked up at her. “Kippy takes your library books back for you, miss, and Kippy brushes your half-kneazle. But he runs off, miss, and Kippy cannot finds him to puts him in his carrier,” he said, wringing his hands, his eyes larger than normal and his lips quivering.

“Kippy, don’t worry about Crookshanks,” Hermione said, hoping that she sounded reassuring. She knew how much Crooks liked being brushed, but he didn’t like being put in his carrier until the very last minute. “He always comes around when I’m ready to leave.”

Kippy nodded and look relieved, but his shoulders were still stooped and his ears were droopy.

“Kippy, stop a moment,” she said, sitting down on her bed. The elf slowly set her jumper in her trunk and then turned to face her. “Kippy, what’s wrong? I know something is wrong.”

Huge tears leaked from his eyes. “Kippy is a bad house-elf, miss. I-I – I is g-given CLOTHES!” he wailed, falling onto the floor and sobbing uncontrollably.

“WHAT?!” Hermione jumped down onto the floor and stroked his back. “Kippy, it has to be a mistake! No one would have given you clothes!”

He continued to wail in misery.

“Kippy, please, stop and tell me who gave you clothes!” she beseeched him.

Kippy sat up, reached into the plain, white towel wrapped about his body, and pulled out a poorly knit elongated object. “Kippy – this – I…” he stammered, apparently incapable of saying it, and blew his nose on the offending knit object.

Hermione reached out her hand and grasped one end of the knitted tube. The stitches were uneven and here and there were evidence of missed stitches, but she immediately recognized the item. “Where did you get this?”

“Kippy finds it jammed in the sofa under the cushions when Kippy whisks it, miss,” he said, sniffing loudly, then wailed in grief again, blowing his nose on the object. “The head house-elf t-takes – takes – takes Kippy’s Hogwarts towel!” He threw his head back and cried with deep wracking sobs.

Hermione felt her heart sink into her gut.

“Kippy, is – is – HOMELESS!” he wailed and threw himself on the floor. “Kip-py is t-to l-leave today a-after clean-ning Gryf-if-indor t-tower.” He was crying so hard he was reduced to hiccoughs.

She grabbed his wrist and made him look up at her. “This is all my fault! I’ll talk to the head house-elf and straighten this out. You don’t have to be homeless,” she said.

He sat up and looked at her. “How can nice miss have dones this?” he said, brandishing the sock.

Hermione sighed, not wanting to admit what had to be said. “I made that when I was learning to knit. It wasn’t intended for you,” she said, the last bit a small lie. “I’m sorry, Kippy, I thought that Dobby had found them all!”

Kippy looked at her as if she’d confessed to killing Santa Claus, shaking the sock in his fist. “Miss makes this?”

“Yes.” She hung her head in shame and then looked up at him. “I’ll do anything to make it right,” she said earnestly.

“Miss will makes the pledge with Kippy?”

That wasn’t what she meant. “Kippy, I…”

“Kippy can only be not-disgraced if miss makes pledge with Kippy. Otherwise, Kippy is disgraced and homeless!”

“I can’t!” she said, running her hand through her hair. “I abhor slavery.”

“But if miss do not wants Kippy, and Kippy cannot stay at Hogwarts – Kippy – disgraced house-elf and homeless!” He threw the sock on the floor. “Kippy would serves the House of Granger and be a good house-elf for miss. Miss can makes Kippy honorable again. Kippy needs a home, miss. Makes Kippy haves a home!”

Hermione looked at the offending sock and realized she had little choice. “Okay, but you must have holidays and receive pay. I can’t have anyone enslaved to me… otherwise…”

“Good house-elves will not takes coins, miss. We puts them back! Kippy wants work! Not coins. Not holidays. Holidays are bad!” he said adamantly.

To which Hermione argued, “A Galleon a week and Sundays off.” They haggled, the bargaining literally becoming ridiculous. In the end, Kippy would get a Sickle a week, which he could put in a jar in her closet, and one hour off a week to do whatever he wanted as long as it wasn’t cleaning or cooking anything. Hermione held out her hand to shake on it.

“Kippy swears to serves the noble House of Granger, to keeps miss’ secrets, and serves miss diligently and honorably for as long as Kippy and Kippy’s children, and their children afters them shall live.” A band of light circled and bound their hands and wrists. Hermione tried to pull her hand back but the cords held their hands firmly locked together. “You is to accept, Miss.” His ears sagged. “Unless you refuses Kippy, but then Kippy is forever disgraced and can never have a home again! Kippy would be homeless forever and ever…”

“Oh, Merlin, help me! Fine – I accept,” she said and the light faded into the skin of their wrists. She looked up to see Ginny, Lorraine, and Adrianna standing in the room, looking at her and Kippy in shock from witnessing the bonding.

“Done.” Kippy was beaming with joy. “Kippy takes mistress’ things now,” he stated, looking up at her expectantly. “Er, where is Kippy to takes them, Mistress?”

“You’re taking home a Hogwarts house-elf?” Lorraine asked, gobsmacked. “How did you pull that one off?”

Hermione smiled at Kippy, ignoring Lorraine. “I assume wherever the house-elves take all the students’ belongings for now.”

When Hermione had mentioned taking Kippy on the train, his eyes had grown to the size of saucers, and he’d looked as if he was about to cry, but the mention of Harry’s house made him smile. “I likes working with Kreacher, Miss! Kippy will goes there and make Harry’s house ready for when mistress arrives!” He turned and left, Hermione’s trunk floating in front of him.

“So… Can you explain what just happened?” Ginny asked. “I thought you hated the fact that house-elves were enslaved!”

Hermione tried to explain, “I didn’t really have a choice… well, I didn’t think this through. He was so distraught, and…” She covered her face with her hands. “I have a house-elf and no home. Could my life be any weirder?”

Ginny started to laugh. “Better keep this quiet or you’ll have all the house-elves in trouble.”

“It doesn’t work that way!” Adrianna said in a huff. “Fine, don’t tell us! You and Potter always did get away with everything!”

Lorraine and Adrianna made frequent envious looks as Hermione looked around at the bed and through her window, feeling a sudden sense of loss. This room and the one where the first-years were now packing had been her home for seven years, just as the castle had been, and leaving felt nearly oppressive. She inhaled deeply, fighting back the wave of sorrow that overcame her. She could still smell the lingering scent of Severus’ flowers but the bouquet had already been removed from her bedside table. Turning slowly, Hermione left the room for the last time.

Ginny was waiting in the common room, looking at the chairs by the fireplace that they used to hang around in.

“Odd, isn’t it, leaving?” Hermione asked as she walked over to her side.

Ginny turned and nodded. “I never thought it would be so hard, saying goodbye, but it’s like leaving home for the last time.”

They followed everyone as they made their way to the carriages. The Thestral-drawn carriages were lined up where only a year ago the defenders of the castle and the wizarding world had stood against Voldemort and his followers. Hermione turned to stare at the place Severus had appeared from the trees, defiantly showing the world whose side he truly belonged. Ginny nudged her, indicating that it was their turn to board. Hermione looked up at the castle when she took her seat, her eyes flicking at each place where something significant had happened during her stay: the Astronomy Tower, the Great Hall, the greenhouses, Gryffindor tower, and finally the east tower and her own sanctuary, Raven’s Roost as it had been aptly renamed. The carriage drove past the Whomping Willow, and then Hagrid’s hut as the Thestral pulled the carriage to the gates.

Ginny turned to her, having been watching the same landmarks pass that had played such an important role in their lives. “What are you going to do first when we get to London?” she asked.

“I dunno; send Severus a letter, find my parents, find a place to live, and get a job come to mind, although not necessarily in that order,” Hermione rattled off quickly. “When I find my parents, I have a lot to explain, and I really hope they forgive me. And Severus and I, we need to spend some time together – real time, no sneaking around or hidden tower rooms. I have a life to start, and I don’t know which to do first.”

“It’ll be odd not seeing you every day,” Ginny admitted, looking at her hands.

“We’ll make a promise; we will meet for lunch, every day, no matter what,” Hermione stated then laughed, “or at least try to. You, me, and Luna.”

“And we have to have Sunday dinner at the Burrow, and dinner at Harry’s at least twice a week,” Ginny suggested, smiling at the idea of making such a vow. “Maybe I’ll ask Luna to paint our portraits like she did in her room.”

“You saw that?” Hermione asked, gobsmacked.

Ginny nodded as the carriage stopped. “Over hols. You’re not my only friend!” Ginny said as she climbed from the carriage. She turned to look at the other students disembarking and back to Hermione. “So, I suppose you’ll be talking over your summer plans with Severus. I can call him that, Severus, I mean?”

“I suppose so, but you’ll have to ask him,” Hermione replied.

“No time like the present,” Ginny said with a mischievous smirk, staring ahead at something behind Hermione.

Hermione turned around to follow Ginny’s gaze and gasped. Severus was leaning against the wall of the depot, watching her. He pushed off the wall, his dark eyes never leaving her face as he jumped from the platform and strode forward, walking toward her. The students automatically parted for him as he approached her, just as they had when he was teaching. Hermione felt rooted on the spot, her breath caught in her throat.

“Miss Weasley,” he greeted smoothly as he reached out, slid one hand in Hermione’s hair, cupping her head as his other slipped around her waist and his mouth claimed hers, making her nearly lose her balance. Hermione clung to him, holding him as tightly as he held her.

“Hello, Severus,” Ginny said back, as the other students gaped in shock, made catcalls, whistled, or turned away in embarrassment.

“Humph,” he grunted, and Hermione felt him stiffen momentarily as he slowly broke their kiss, his eyebrow rising at Ginny’s presumptuousness. His hand slid to cup Hermione’s face as he gazed at her lovingly, ignoring the students staring and moving around them to board the train. “I have something to ask you, I’d rather not ask here. Will you come with me?” he asked softly.

Ginny clasped her hands together, beaming happily as Hermione, blushing slightly from his affectionate display, nodded. “Of course,” was all she could utter, her breathing ragged, heart thumping, and her head spinning as if drunk.

Severus clasped Hermione’s hand tightly, nodded to Ginny, saying simply, “Ginevra,” before Disapparating and taking Hermione with him, but not before Hermione heard Ginny yell, “Ginny, if you –”

They landed on a hill overlooking a village in a valley and a small town beyond. “Where are we?” she asked, taking in the view.

“Near my home,” he said with a pleased grin on his face.

“But I thought that you lived in Manchester, a place called Spinner’s End?”

“That damn book. Too many people know of that house now. I moved here in Lancashire, well, down there in Pendleton,” he said, pointing to the village, “just on the outskirts, of course. That’s Clitheroe in the distance. And over there is Mearley Hall.” He dropped his arm and added, “That’s not what I wanted to ask you.”

Hermione turned to face him, looking up at him with expectation, swallowing nervously as she hoped it was something good not bad. He held her hand, as if examining her skin and each finger, then held it firmly as if she’d pull away from him. “I – we – aw, bloody hell! I could court you for months if you’d like, but you and I already know each other – for the most part. I’m not an easy man to live with, but if you could love me in return… You do still feel the same about us, don’t you? You still love me, right?”

Hermione felt that if he hadn’t been holding her hand so tightly her heart would have lifted her off the ground to soar. “Yes, I love you – I still love you!” She yanked her hand free to fling her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, lifting her to her tip-toes, and then set her back down to kiss her.

“Wait,” she gasped, pulling back before his lips touched hers. “I have to go to Australia!”

“Australia? When? Now?” he asked, jerking away from her, his arms still clasped about her waist.

“My parents; I sent them to Australia!” She quickly explained the situation to him and why she’d done it.

He shook his head in amused disbelief. “Well, I’ll have to meet them some time, and I can help you restore their memories,” he replied with a smirk, then became serious. “You’ll have to explain to me exactly how you did it, what spells, but I’m sure their memories can be returned as long as you didn’t Obliviate them.” He reached out and tipped her face up to look her in the eye. “You haven’t answered my question?”

Hermione suppressed the urge to smirk. “Yes I did; I love you.”

“That wasn’t the question,” he asked, a crease appearing between his brows.

“About Australia, I thought we covered that?” she asked, knowing that wasn’t what he’d meant at all.

“No, the – blimey, woman, do you want me to court you or not?” he asked, clearly exasperated by her avoidance.

“Of course I do,” she said, smiling, then bit her lip as she looked up at him, sweetly. “If that’s what you want.”

“What do you want?” he asked, dropping his hands from her waist and looking at her questioningly.

“I want to make a difference in the world, and the magical one really needs a lot of work. Kingsley offered me a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that I want to accept. I don’t want to be an Auror; I’ve done enough fighting for a lifetime,” she rattled off quickly, still pleased at the position he’d offered her, assistant to the head of the Being Division! She quickly added, “And I want kids, at least two, and a crup. I always thought that owning a half-crup-half-terrier would be fun,” and watched his face for his reaction. “That’s if Crookshanks, my half-kneazle, would get along with a crup-terrier mix.”

“Is that all?” he asked, crossing his arms and scowling slightly at her.

“Well, I was hoping you’d already offered me what every girl dreams of,” she said coquettishly.

His eyebrow rose as he asked, “And what’s that?” still standing like he used to when she’d asked him questions in class.

“A home with the man I love,” she stated, still smiling sweetly at him.

His body relaxed, and he reached out again to wrap her in his arms. “So that means your answer is yes.”

“You haven’t asked me that one yet,” she said, toying with one of his buttons.

“I just did?” he snapped questioningly, sounding frustrated again. “Blimey, you’re making this difficult. Will you marry me, Hermione?”

“Yes!” she answered, as she flung her arms up and clasped them around his neck.

“About bloody time,” he mumbled, turning his attention back to thoroughly kissing the witch in his arms.

When he ended the kiss, Hermione had to grab his arms to steady her feet, which made his mouth curve into an amused smirk. He stroked her hair as he watched her face.

“So are you going to show me my new home?” she asked, toying with his buttons again.

He grasped her hands and smiled. “Shall we Apparate, walk, or fly?”

“Walk,” she decided, “and you can tell me about your plans for us.”

Aberforth hauled Severus out the back door and threw him into the alley behind the bar. “Get your lousy arse out of here. If I see you in here again – it will be too soon,” the barkeep said as he wiped his hands on his apron as if Severus had soiled his hands. Severus seethed as Aberforth turned and closed the door.

Severus scrambled to his feet, slipping and landing on his bum in the mud made from the rainfall and whatever else had leaked out of the bins lining the alley. The night was cold, below fifteen Celsius and wet, quite unusual for July, and at the moment quite uncomfortable to be sprawled in the mud, in a drafty alley in northern Scotland. Severus scrambled to his feet and tried to remove the mud with his wand. He was soaked, filthy, and angry from all the indignity and embarrassment he’d had to endure from Dumbledore and his bloody brother. Still seething and flustered, he Apparated home, the tiny house in Spinner’s End that he’d inherited from his parents. He used the rain falling from the gutter to rinse off the mud and grime and shed his clothes in his kitchen. He wiped himself down with a towel and rinsed his hair in the sink, drying himself off with his wand. Upstairs he bathed in the tub he’d put in the box room.

His mind raced over what he’d overheard. ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him… and the Dark Lord will…’ That’s when he had been discovered by that bloody barkeep, Aberforth Dumbledore, and the door had opened. Inside the batty woman from the bar was speaking, only not in the soft, phony, misty voice she’d used downstairs, but harsh and scratchy, ‘…survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…’ Then her head dropped for a moment and she turned, screeching at Severus for eavesdropping on her interview.

As Severus lay in the warm water, he thought about whom, other than Lily, the nutty woman could mean. He’d read about prophecies, but never believed in them or considered them valid. But something of what he’d seen made him feel cold. He knew that Lily was pregnant; he’d seen her briefly in Diagon Alley. So are the Longbottoms; Rosier said she was on maternity leave. Another Weasley brat had both been born in March, so he couldn’t be the child of the prophecy, but there is Mrs. Brocklehurst… Severus had overheard Narcissa talking to Catherine Rosier about the baby shower. Abigail Dexter is pregnant – she left the country after… No not her. Alexthia Corner…? No. And I think I heard that Mrs. Bones is on maternity leave from the MLE, as well as Mrs. Abbott… and they are both resisting the Dark Lord… Those were the only witches he knew to be pregnant.

Severus stood and dried himself, disturbed that the only witches that he knew to be pregnant and to be defiant toward the Dark Lord were Lily, the Longbottoms, and the Bones. The Abbotts, Dexters, and the Brocklehurst were not actively defying the Dark Lord, but they were not openly supporting him either. At least Severus had never seen Mr. Abbott or Mr. Brocklehurst summoned for a raid, and Mr. Dexter was a coward. The more he thought about what he’d overheard the more it bothered him. “That Trelawney witch was as nutters as a loon, there is no way her ranting to impress Dumbledore could mean anything,” he snarled as he pulled on fresh robes.

On the third of August, Severus nearly choked on his morning cup of tea as he glanced at the happy tidings section of the Sunday Daily Prophet. Listed as one of two babies born that week to magical families were Neville Algarius Longbotttom and… Harry James Potter. Severus felt his gut clench and his palms began to sweat. He was so worried that the prophecy made by Sybill Trelawney to Dumbledore that night might be Lily’s son – or worse – that Dumbledore might think so and get his claws into the boy… raising him to be… “Oh, my, gods! To be the great defender of the wizarding world!”

His Mark chose that exact moment to burn.

Severus Snape couldn’t shake off his concerns; he couldn’t calm his worried mind as he answered his summons. He couldn’t suppress his fear for Lily, her and her newborn son.

“Severus, what is this I see in your mind?” Voldemort asked when the connection was broken.

He knew immediately what the dark Lord had caught a glimpse of: that nutter Trelawney talking to Dumbledore in that room above the Hog’s Head. “I’m not sure my Lord? Some babble a strange woman was saying to Dumbledore,” he answered with just a hint of an indifferent disdain, hoping to convey his ambivalence of the situation and his disregard of the witch. “I met her; she’s nutters, a complete imbecile who believes that she has the inner eye, the ability of divination.”

“Tell me what she said, and be specific,” the Dark Lord insisted, leaning forward and staring Severus in the eye.

Severus was entering the Headmaster’s office when Sybill Trelawney almost barreled into him. “The Headmaster is…” He didn’t get to finish the sentence.

“I have important portents to convey to the Headmaster at once!” she said, looking up at him through her thick glasses and brandishing cards at him, her bangles rattling. “The moon – deception, the high priestess – not what he seems, He’s here in the castle – death, doom!”

“I’m sure he is,” Severus said, his tone dripping with disdain. “The same omens you always have for me.”

But Sybill was looking at the Sorting Hat, sitting on the headmaster’s desk on his wicker headstand. Her eyes rolled and her mouth went slack and she began to talk, only in that harsh grating voice, “In Gryffindor they must reside, amongst the brave at heart; the chosen one shall meet the loyal knight and brightest mind will shine. Through adversity and strife, together they’ll be strong, the strength of the founders four united in a bond. So place them together, this trio to befriend, for on them do our hopes rel-l-ly…”

The Hat peeked up as if taking what she said as a dire warning, and Sybill slumped, barely giving Severus enough time to grab her and dump her in a chair before she collapsed on the floor. She came to just as Dumbledore arrived. “Ah, Sybill, more warnings, I presume?” he asked, walking over to her. He handed Severus an old tome, his attention still on the Divination professor.

“Yes, Headmaster. I have seen it in the cards, the same three!” Sybill said, climbing to her feet and showing him the cards.

“And so I shall then be prepared,” Dumbledore said, patiently escorting her to the door. “Thank you so very much for stopping by, but I have important matters to discuss with Professor Snape. I’ll see you at dinner, I hope.”

“Why do you put up with her?” Severus asked, taking the seat she’d evacuated, and pulling a card out from under his leg. She’d left behind the one with a picture of a lovely woman on it.

“I fear the Seer’s right and this boy must not be set alone,” the Sorting Hat stated.

“And how so,” Dumbledore asked, steepling his hands in front of him.

“Hogwarts worked in harmony before discord grew, feeding on our faults, prejudices, and fears,” the Hat answered, “and ever since the four founders were whittled down to three, have the houses been divided, which was not how they were meant to be. You know the warnings our history shows and we must heed these warnings now and unite again or face the perils out there. So I warn you, Headmaster, don’t make me divide them, for together we must hold fast, for divided we shall fall.”

“I’m afraid that this is the tradition of the school, a long standing tradition that I must uphold,” the Headmaster replied solemnly. “But I agree with you. However, I have always thought…” He looked up at Severus.

“I know, we sort too soon,” Severus said, having heard the same thing so many times before. “I doubt that would have changed anything, Albus; my enemies chose to hate me before we even left the train.”

“I still think that you would have done well in my old house,” Dumbledore said sadly, making the Hat peek up again and bristle.

Severus left his meeting with Minerva and the Board of Governors, feeling as if he’d been bowled over by one of Hagrid’s Skrewts! He was offered the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Head of Slytherin house, and Deputy Headmaster all in one go. It was nearly too much to take in. In addition, when he’d dropped off his last shipment of potions for St. Mungo’s, Mr. Nortquist had inquired if he’d changed his mind about working for the hospital in a teaching position in the training program. He could have either; it was mind boggling. The Gupta girls’ shop was still doing well, and his own potions label was very well received, even sought after.

Hermione was doing well. She’d started as assistant head of the Being Division and was making news regularly in regards to changes in the laws for centaurs, house-elves, and especially werewolves. However, since she’d successfully broken into their bank, the Goblins were still disinclined to work with her. Still, Hermione had also championed the reorganization of combining both the Werewolf Services and Werewolf Registration offices under the newly established Werewolf Liaison Office. Unfortunately, that put the Werewolf Hit Squad under the MLE. She was currently working to bring them back under her department in the Being Division. However, currently, both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were keeping an eye on the hit squad activities, something that Severus was sure Kingsley, the Minister of Magic, had a hand in.

Severus stopped on the way home in Clitheroe to pick up some more of the Cocoaball éclairs from Hermione’s favorite bakery, which she’d been asking him frequently for as of late, and some lemon scones for himself. He considered stopping at the greengrocer down the street.

He had a decision to make, and putting it off wouldn’t make it any easier to decide. Truth was, he liked the prospect of both, returning to Hogwarts, or maintaining his own business. He selected a few plums, peaches, and some zucchini from the greengrocer, placing them in a bag.

He still had reservations about working for St. Mungo’s on a permanent basis, but being Deputy Headmaster, under Minerva for a few years until she retired, might not be that bad. She had privately confided in him the desire to retire in three years, long enough for him to become Headmaster after her. Headmaster, without any tyrannical narcissistic megalomaniac pulling my strings and rebellious teens – although it’s no guarantee I won’t have…

“Professor Snape?”

Severus turned to see who had addressed him and was stunned to see Dennis Creevey, standing on the pavement looking up at him excitedly. “It is you! How are you, sir?”

“I am well, Mr. Creevey,” Severus replied, smirking at the small boy, “and yourself?”

“I’m doing great. I go to Hogwarts in a week; I’m on the Quidditch team – Seeker, just like Harry Potter was! I made my Potions OWL, and nine others! I never did thank you for teaching me. You were always so strict, but you were a really great teacher, really made me think things through and organize and plan ahead and all,” the boy babbled on eagerly.

Severus assumed his ramblings were nervous energy from being faced with the feared bat of the dungeons. “Thank you, but you and I were only associated for two years in Potions, if memory serves me,” he said smoothly. Fact was, little Dennis had always rather impressed Severus with how diligently he tried in his subjects. He wasn’t the sharpest whip, but he made up for it in tenacity of practice and paying earnest attention in class. More than once, he’d caught the Creevey brothers practicing spells or brewing potions in a classroom late at night. “I was sorry to hear about your brother. He was a good lad and very brave.”

Dennis’ smile grew even wider. “Thank you. He was afraid of you sometimes, but he always said you were a good guy, really brilliant and that we were lucky to be learning from the likes of you. I still have every essay of Colin’s and have read every book you suggested he read.” The boy turned as if to go, and then faced Severus again. “I heard that you might be coming back? Is that true? Are you? It would be so great if you did! I hope you teach Potions. Slughorn is retiring, and when I heard that I immediately told Alan and Richard that they should bring you back. You were the best. Slughorn doesn’t challenge us like you did.”

He waited a count of five to see if the boy was through before answering. “I have been asked to return, as professor of Defense.”

“Oh that would be awesome!” Dennis exclaimed loudly enough to draw attention. “You were the best we had – well, I only had you, that Umbridge woman and the imposter Professor Moody. We have Professor Podmore now, he’s a retired Auror, you know. I didn’t know he was leaving.”

He turned his head again and Severus was about to answer when Dennis said, “Oh, there’s my dad. So good to see you, Professor. I really look forward to your lessons again. Bye!”

“Good, bye, Mr. Creevey,” Severus replied as the boy turned to run across the street. He paid for his groceries and walked to the road that he often used for Apparation, contemplating what little Creevey had said. He’d always thought the Creevey boys were afraid of him, despising him like all the others. Apparently, he had been wrong. Severus made a mental roll-call of the students in Creevey’s year, smirking at himself when he’d been able to name all forty-nine of them. He tried listing all the students what would be in sixth-year, pleased that he was able to recall the names of all fifty-one students and their faces.

He arrived at the gate to their home with a smile on his face. His roses were in bloom, as was the jasmine along the house and rosemary along the fence. The odoriferous plants were too pungent for his taste, especially combined in a small front garden, but Hermione loved their aroma. He’d even started using their essences with wild fern in her bar soap and bubble bath, which he admitted, was less potent that way, but quite provocative.

“You look happy,” Hermione said, sitting up from beside the tomatoes. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”

“I saw Dennis Creevey in town,” he said, handing her the box from the bakery.

She wiped her hands on her apron and stood up, accepting the box with a smirk. “And that made you happy?”

“It was what he said,” Severus replied, looking at the warm glow on his wife’s face in the evening light. Sunset was only an hour away, and nothing filled him with more joy than having dinner in the garden on a summer night as the sun set. He cupped her face with his hand and kissed her. “Let’s eat. I have something I want to ask you.”

She nodded, holding his hand as they walked into the house. Over dinner in the garden, Severus told Hermione of his two offers and his meeting with Dennis Creevey.

“So which would you like to do?” Hermione asked, sipping on a tall glass of iced grape juice.

He stared at the matching color of his wine. “I never thought I’d ever admit this, but I am leaning toward returning to Hogwarts.”

“You might want to reconsider the implications of leaving your wife alone for nine months before you make your decision,” she said coyly.

His eyes narrowed in reaction to her expression. “Explain.”

“We’ll I’m going to need you around a bit more than normal for the next nineteen months to help me out. Possibly for longer, depending on whether Kippy likes changing nappies,” Hermione said off-handedly. “I’m not going to be able to lift anything once my stomach gets huge.”

Severus was staring at her, gobsmacked, his mind not exactly registering what she meant by nineteen months… But Kippy changing nappies and that her stomach was going to be huge could only mean one thing. “You’re going to have a baby?”

“Yes, I’m two months along actually,” she replied. “Molly said…”

“I’m going to be a father?” he asked, still in a bit of a shock. “How did this happen?”

“If you don’t know, I’m not going to explain,” she chided him, grinning as she sipped on her grape juice.

“No, I know how it happens, but how – when – me, a father?” he babbled incoherently like a first-year.

“Yes, you, a father.” She got up and walked around the small table to sit on his lap. “Are you at least amiable to the idea?”

He pulled her to him and placed his hand on her belly, staring at her abdomen in surprise. Hermione laid her hand over his, and he looked up at her as if she were a miracle. “I’m going to have a child.”

“Well, I am, but I’d rather hoped you’d want a hand in it all, daddy?” she teased him, leaning down to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently, still reeling from the magic she’d brought to his life.

Hermione’s baby was due any day, and once again they were sitting on the sofa with her feet in his lap as he massaged them. “Hugo? Are you trying to set our son up for ridicule?”

“My grandfather’s name is Hubert, but every one called him Hugh or Hugo,” Hermione replied, her eyes closed in bliss as he worked his thumbs along her arch.

“I’ll accept Hubert, as long as no one calls him Hugo,” he stated, watching the blissful expression on her face.

“Hubert Severus Snape… What?” she asked when he’d stopped moving his fingers.

He scowled slightly at her suggestion. “Severus? I never liked the name Severus.”

“Tobias,” she suggested.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned her, going back to massaging her foot. “Sean is acceptable.”

“Hubert Sean Harry Snape,” she suggested with a sigh.

“Hermione…” He squeezed her foot gently, running a finger gently to tickle her.

“Stop that! I was kidding,” she said with a reflex tug of her foot but he held her foot in a firm grip. She settled down since he’d not repeated the action. “If he grows up to be in Gryffindor…”

“Or Slytherin,” he interrupted her.

A log crackled in the fireplace. “He could be in Ravenclaw, I almost was,” she stated.

“What?” he asked, switching feet.

“Ravenclaw, the Sorting Hat strongly considered me for Ravenclaw, but said ‘a bright mind, but your bravery, your loyalty, that I would be needed…’ Oh my gods!” she said, grasping the back of the sofa as she tried to sit up, something her huge belly prevented.

“What?” he asked, calmly, laying his hand on the top of her foot.

Kippy appeared and pushed a pillow behind Hermione’s back. “That’s why I was able to get past the barrier in my first year when I was with Ron and Harry! The Grey Lady said you can only pass the barrier if you are meant to be together… What if…? But how would the Hat know?” Hermione rambled, still straining to sit up to face him.

He was trying to piece together the relevance of what she was saying. “Know what precisely? What are you talking about?”

She lay back down against her pillows and Kippy gave her a glass of iced grape juice. “The Hat had a difficult time placing me and then put me in Gryffindor,” she explained and he nodded, finally getting what she was on about. “After a few months of school, actually in early November, I went to ask Professor Dumbledore to let me be reassigned to Ravenclaw since I didn’t feel that I was fitting in and thought there had been a mistake. The Sorting Hat told me, that I was meant to be in Gryffindor… ‘He would need me to overcome what he faced’; that we were meant to be together – Ron, Harry and me!”

Severus smirked at her logic. It was sound, and fit what he’d overheard Trelawney say in Dumbledore’s office years ago, but still not relevant to the magic of the barrier in his mind. “All right, you were meant to be with Harry and Ronald. Considering the fact that neither boy would have passed a single class or survived their rule breaking and meddling without you, or would have survived your year together on the run or been able to defeat the Dark Lord… the Hat’s statement obviously has merit,” he argued in his soft teaching voice. “I don’t see the connection.”

“The Barrier! I had pushed into the barrier in my first year. If neither Ron or Harry were my soul mate – of which I am most certain you are – it was because I was meant to be with Harry and Ron. You know – the Golden Trio. That’s why when I returned when I was seventeen I was drawn up to the tower room. I’d been affected since my first year, but I hadn’t really felt the pull of the room until I was of age, an adult,” she explained, and frowned at his smirk. “Don’t you see?”

“If you say so.” Severus started laughing, accepting the glass of wine Kippy offered him as he thought about her logic.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, clearly hurt that he was dismissing her theory so casually.

“You’re missing something in that theory of yours.” Severus sipped his wine as he worked out exactly when she’d found the lower chamber room. “Am I correct in assuming that you found the portal the night Potter led you on that fool’s mission to steal the Philosopher’s stone?”

Hermione tried to sit up again, grabbing the back of the sofa to pull herself up. “Not steal – save it – and it wasn’t foolish, we, well, Harry did save it!”

“No, Dumbledore, Minerva and I saved it,” he said pointedly, yet casually, remembering the night in question all too well. “Hermione, I was in that tower that night, when Dumbledore summoned me to help him save you three from the mischief you’d gotten yourselves into – again.” He slid his hand on her leg, appreciating the silky smooth feel of her skin. “You were really quite a handful.”

“You were?” she asked stunned, falling back against her pillows.

He laughed at her. “Yes, I was. I was in the tower room the night you and your friends set out to get the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“But that would mean that you and I – even back then?” she stammered, amazed by the implications. “But you never said anything!”

“And when exactly, wife, was I supposed to?” he asked, his fingers lazily stroking her leg as he sipped his wine. “I tried to warn you to stay away every time you came up there. I even tried to persuade you to meet me in my office, hoping that you’d stay away from the tower room, but you couldn’t. No more than I could, even though I knew what was happening, I was unable to stop it myself. We were both trapped the moment you entered the upper room of that tower.”

She looked at the fingers of her left hand and the lovely emerald surrounded by diamonds he’d bought her. “Do you regret it?”

“Not for one moment. Well at first, but only because I knew I was taking advantage of you in ways that were wholly inappropriate as your professor. But do you think you’d have fallen for me otherwise? I’m not so sure I’d have allowed myself to develop feelings for you since you were my student.”

She examined the perfect princess cut of her stone. “No, maybe not. But…” She looked up at him, her expression worried. “Are you glad that things turned out this way? Do you have any regrets?”

Severus smirked and then laughed softly. “Oh, I have regrets, Hermione. I have many regrets, but very few of them involve you. You are the best thing that’s happened to me, and I wouldn’t allow a Time-Turner in this house to change things any other way.”

She smiled happily at his pronouncement, and he set his glass down, rose up, leaning over her carefully to kiss her. “I love you, Hermione Snape. Don’t ever doubt that,” he said softly as their lips met. After giving her a loving, sensual kiss, he sat back down and pulled her feet back onto his lap.

Hermione was beaming happily, and then became thoughtful. “I heard from Minerva that the new Transfiguration professor goes up there every morning to have tea. There isn’t a door anymore and the house-elves have put furniture up there.”

“Furniture. In our room?” he asked. “What kind of furniture?”

“A chair, a comfortable sofa, a thick rug, and a bookshelf,” she stated, looking at the ice in her glass.

“Too bad they didn’t put that up there before,” he stated, smirking behind his.

“They couldn’t,” she said, adjusting her position and her pillow. “Kippy said it was something about dark, bad magic and evil magic or something like that. They didn’t like the smell and feel of the room. Apparently the smell and bad feeling is gone.” Kippy appeared and helped adjust Hermione’s pillows. “Thank you,” she replied and turned to face Severus as Kippy gave Hermione a glass of water. “Besides, we did fine without furniture. I thought you liked the windowsill?”

He grimaced at the memory of the pain of the hard stone floor on his knees. “It wasn’t the windowsill I minded as much as the floor,” he said, smirking at her.

“That didn’t bother you several months ago if I recall,” she said, smirking back at him adorably. “You did right admirably in my opinion.”

He tipped his wine glass to his lips to hide his satisfied grin at the memory of that particular night. “That was because you were too randy to climb the stairs to our bedroom,” he reminded her. “We did manage to make it to the sofa.”

“That was because it was the place in the house we hadn’t christened,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“Oh – Oh!”

“Yes, oh.”

~ The End ~

Author’s Notes:

The Latin used in this story is from: http://www.archives.nd.edu/cgi-bin/lookdown.pl A terrific site for anyone wanting Latin wording.

“On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn.” (Dumbledore, OoTP) The weather in the UK the summer of 1980 was particularly poor, ( cold and wet) especially from about 18th June to 18th July in 'high summer' during which seven of those days the temperature failed to reach 15C or 59F. The first week of July was particularly cold – the coldest in recorded history for that month.