Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: All praise and much thanks to my betas, Alienor and Septentrion, for their kind words, hard work and input.

King's Cross: Nineteen years later.

Hugo's shoulders slumped as the Hogwarts Express gathered speed and chuffed its way out of the station. He had run alongside for a while, hoping at least to catch a glimpse of his twin brothers, but they hadn't so much as stuck their heads out of the window, the meanies. They could have at least said goodbye to him, even if they were cross with Mum and Dad. Hugo hadn't seen them in ages...seeing as they'd spent most of the summer holidays with Uncle George, earning pocket money in the shop. And now Rosie, too, was gone.

Panting slightly, Hugo turned and peered through the smoke and steam. All around him, the pops of Disapparition could be heard as those adults without additional children vanished from the platform. Hugo wished he could just disappear like that and didn't have to return home. What would it be like, he wondered, not to have brothers and sisters stealing his things and drawing over his precious books? He glanced down the platform, watching those people like his parents who had younger children in tow, making their way to the barrier. Mum and Dad were talking to Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry while they waited for the crowd to clear. A very thin, pale lady stepped towards them, only to be pulled away by an equally pale, blond man who, Hugo assumed, had to be her husband.

Uncle Harry shook his head, smiled at Aunt Ginny, and brushed a stray cinder out of her hair. Mum looked upset; Dad stared at the clock. Even to Hugo's eight-year-old eyes, the difference in behaviour between the two couples was all too apparent, and this wasn't the first time he'd noticed it. He'd actually caught his aunt and uncle kissing in their kitchen once and had been even more appalled when Lily informed him that they did it all the time. Hugo had never seen his parents so much as touch each other, and these days, when Dad came home early enough to actually eat supper with them, all he and Mum ever seemed to do was argue. Hugo sighed. Rosie and the twins were lucky. They were out of the house now. He would have to wait another two years before he could join them. Hugo stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and slowly made his way back down the platform.

~*~

'Gods,' said Ginny, staring after the retreating figure of Luna Malfoy. 'She looks like a wraith.'

Hermione couldn't dispute it. 'Is she ill, Harry? Does Draco mention her at all?'

'No.' Harry shook his head. 'Not at all, but I'm going to ask him if she's all right at the next trustees' meeting.'

'Do that,' said Ginny. 'I don't think I've seen her since the War Orphans' Charity Ball last Christmas...and even then, Draco didn't leave her side for a minute, so I didn't have a chance to talk to her.'

Hermione hadn't managed to get a babysitter for Harry's charity bash that year. 'I can't remember the last time I spoke to her. Does she ever leave Malfoy Manor unchaperoned?'

Ginny shook her head sadly. 'Not since she appeared at that fund raiser wearing a Brussels sprout necklace. Narcissa Malfoy accused her of trying to make a laughing stock out of the family...and you know how Luna usually says the first thing that comes into her head. Well...'

'I can imagine,' said Hermione. 'One careless word, and she could ruin all of Lucius Malfoy's attempts to make his family seem respectable. They must see her as a bit of a loose cannon.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Lily, come here, please.' She reached for her daughter's hand. 'I think that's something of an understatement.'

'Aren't you worried that Harry's taking too much of a risk appointing Draco as a trustee of the Orphans Fund, though?'

'Well...' Ginny shrugged. 'Lucius did make a big donation, and Harry was willing to give Draco the benefit of the doubt.'

Hermione sighed, thinking that nothing good could come of it, and turned her head to look for Hugo. 'Three down, five to go,' she muttered, watching the small figure ambling his way towards them.

'Do you want a lift?' Ron asked.

'No, it's all right, thanks.' Hermione turned to face her husband, feeling the familiar tug of longing. 'I thought I'd go shopping...Hugo could do with some new shoes.'

Ron nodded. 'Okay. I'll see you tonight.'

'Will you be home in time for supper?'

'Erm... probably not.' Ron looked around everywhere but at her. 'There's this case I'm working on... I'll, um, have to work late.'

'Fine,' Hermione said, wondering whether it was the blonde case or the new redhead that was demanding his attention. Not that she was particularly bothered, either way. She just hated making excuses for him to the children. 'I'll see you when I see you, then.'

Ron waited for Hugo to catch up before saying his goodbyes and leaving for work. Harry lifted a squealing Lily onto his shoulders and followed through the barrier soon after.

'Come around for coffee and a chat tomorrow.' Hermione turned to Ginny. 'Your mother's taking the kids on a nature ramble.'

'Okay.' Ginny smiled at her nephew and ruffled Hugo's hair...much to his annoyance. 'See you tomorrow, then.'

Hermione watched her sister-in-law disappear in the direction of Muggle King's Cross. 'Right, then, Hugo,' she said. 'What's it going to be? Bus or Tube?'

Hugo's face lit up in delight. 'Tube!'

It looked like he was going to get a train ride today, after all.

~*~

Later that afternoon in Florean Fortescue's, as he prepared to tackle the enormous Knickerbockerglory on the table in front of him, Hugo came to the conclusion that today had been as close to perfect as any day could get. Mum had bought him a pair of Muggle trainers...with flashing lights on the heels, no less...which were attracting the attention of all the other kids in the ice-cream parlour. They were, by far, the coolest things he'd ever owned. Not only that, he'd been on the Tube twice...Mum had allowed him to handle Muggle money and pay for the tickets...and they'd visited an Art Gallery where the pictures didn't move. He couldn't wait to Owl Rose. Hugo grasped the long-handled spoon and picked off the cherry and some of the whipped cream while he pondered how best to attack his ice-cream sundae. He looked up and grinned. This was the bestest treat of the day; he had Mum all to himself and could talk to her about all kinds of stuff without anyone else butting in and spoiling it.

Hermione smiled back at her son as he stood up to plunge the spoon into the glass of ice-cream that seemed almost as tall as he was. Hugo was a good kid; in fact, he was probably the favourite out of all her children...although she would never have admitted to any such thing. He reminded her so much of her eight-year-old self...infinitely curious and endlessly asking questions.

This was just how she had once imagined motherhood would be: one or two intelligent and politely enquiring children, interesting days out, educational visits to art galleries, museums and the like... Unfortunately, the reality was quite different: eight children in six pregnancies, with a set of twins at each end, sibling rivalry, perpetual wiping of noses and bottoms and a never ending round of feeding, washing and tidying up...it was monotonous, unrelenting, drudgery. Hermione was rarely anything other than exhausted, and with the children simultaneously clamouring for her attention all day long, it was virtually impossible to give them the individual attention they needed. It was more like crowd control than parenting.

'Good?' Hermione asked.

Hugo nodded. 'Mmm...'

Hermione stirred her coffee and stared out of the window, savouring the peace. It wasn't very often she could sit down and do nothing, and she was determined to make the most of it. Molly could look after the four youngest children a bit longer.

Florean's hadn't really changed that much since Hermione had first come to Diagon Alley, although old Mr Fortescue had never recovered from his kidnapping by Death Eaters, and the shop was now run by his son. But the ice-cream, Hermione would have sworn on Hogwarts: A History, was not nearly as good...this may have been due to the fact that the new proprietor skimped on the ingredients or was more likely because the place reminded her of a more innocent time when life was sweeter and the future held all kinds of exciting possibilities. She took a sip of espresso and wiggled in her seat, wondering if the chairs had shrunk since she'd been in here last, or her bum had got noticeably bigger. She very much suspected it was the latter.

Nineteen years, Hermione thought bitterly. Where had they gone? Another six before the twins go to school. She'd be well into her forties by then, and it would probably be too late for her to start a career...not that she really knew what she wanted to do anymore.

Hermione glanced at Hugo, who now had a moustache of vanilla ice-cream on his top lip, resisting the automatic response to lean forward and clean it off. He was old enough and more than capable of wiping his own face. Instead, she sighed and sipped her coffee. If only we'd stopped at four.

Hermione had hoped after the birth of their two very demanding twin boys that Ron would change his mind about the number of children he wanted her to bear, but he'd remained adamant that he wanted seven. In fact, the only deviation from the original contract she had managed to negotiate was the timescale involved. Hermione had scored a small victory by persuading Ron that having children before they had both gained some qualifications was not a good idea. 'You want a big family,' she informed him, 'you're going to need a well-paid job to provide for it.' Hermione had also suggested, seeing as she'd obtained more N.E.W.Ts than him (with better grades), that she should become the breadwinner while he stayed at home with all the children he wanted her to have. But Ron wouldn't hear of it. As far as he was concerned, bringing up children was woman's work. Now, with a middle-management desk job at the Auror department, Ron was earning the kind of money that would have comfortably supported a small family, but with eight children to feed and clothe, Hermione had to budget her housekeeping money carefully.

So treats like visits to Florean's were few and far between, but on the rare occasion that she indulged herself or her children, Hermione refused to feel guilty about it...just as she refused to feel guilty about not loving Ron or being the dutiful wife her in-laws expected her to be. In the beginning, she had tried to make the best of a bad situation, but the forced intimacy demanded by the enchantment had killed off any chance of rekindling their love and destroyed what little remained of their friendship. The only good thing was that once the last of the children had been born, and Hermione had fulfilled her part of the contract, the charm-induced lust had dissipated. Unfortunately, the longing for Ron's presence had not.

It was a horrible feeling, continually needing the physical proximity of someone one would rather not have to see at all. Even though Hermione constantly reminded herself that it wasn't real, that it was spell-induced, the yearning persisted in spite of what her heart and intellect repeatedly told her.

If only I could break that part... If only...

But it was a component of the binding, this gnawing ache. A craving...together with the children...that made Hermione tolerate Ron's extra-marital affairs and prevented her from throwing him out of the house. It was the last flimsy, but unbreakable thread that held their travesty of a marriage together...a marriage that had been virtually celibate since the birth of their twin daughters. That, however, was a state of affairs which suited Hermione just fine since it was infinitely preferable to wanting to constantly jump a man for whom she had long lost all respect.

Hugo sat back contentedly and wiped his mouth with the napkin provided.

'We'd better be going,' Hermione said. 'Granny Weasley will be wondering where we've got to.'

'Oh, can we go and look at the owls first, Mummy? Ple-ease.

'All right.' Hermione took her purse out of her bag to pay the waitress. 'But remember; we can't afford to buy one.'

~*~

Hermione followed Hugo through the Floo, stepping into her kitchen via the inglenook fireplace. She quickly surveyed the scene as Hugo ran over to the table to show off his new trainers to his brother and sisters. Her four youngest children were sitting quietly at the scrub-topped pine table busily colouring in while Molly cooed over their efforts. The kitchen was spotless. It couldn't have been cleaner if a team of Hogwarts' house-elves had been let loose in there for five minutes. Hermione wasn't sure whether Molly cleaned up to highlight her inadequacies as a housewife and mother, or whether she genuinely thought she was helping, and in all honesty, Hermione couldn't care less either way. She had long ago stopped bristling every time her mother-in-law ran a finger over the mantelpiece, tutting at the dust she found there. In fact, she didn't so much as twitch anymore. Hermione took each day as it came...and went...drifting through the weeks and months that held very little to distinguish between them.

'Hermione,' Molly greeted her warmly. 'There you are at last, dear. Have you seen the news?'

'What news?' Hermione replied, gathering the twins into a hug.

Molly waved a copy of the Evening Prophet at her. 'It's in the paper. Look! Severus Snape is alive!'

'What!' Hermione grabbed the paper off her. 'He can't be. I saw him... With my own eyes... I saw him...' She trailed off as she took in the photograph on the front page, still not believing it. But it was him, all right. She'd recognise that nose anywhere, but he must be... what... in his late fifties by now, yet he could have passed for forty. Hermione's knees felt weak. She collapsed into the nearest chair, staring at the photo of a man she had watched bleed to death on a filthy floor a lifetime ago and shaking her head in disbelief. Snape peered back indifferently but without malice or any sign of the trademark sneer.

'He's changed a bit, hasn't he?' Molly began to tidy up the children's things. 'Those robes look like they cost him a Galleon or two.'

'Yes,' Hermione replied weakly. 'But how... I saw him... I saw him...' She tore her eyes away from the photograph to read the accompanying article:

A hero of the Voldemort war, presumed dead since the Battle of Hogwarts, presented himself to a shocked Ministry official yesterday.

The story of Severus Snape, once Potions master and later Headmaster at Hogwarts, Death Eater, spy and heroic soldier of the War, has almost passed into legend...

Hermione glanced back up at the photo, still not believing what her eyes were telling her. 'I need a drink.'

'I wonder why he's come back now,' Molly said, taking two wine glasses out of the cupboard. 'White, dear?'

'Yes, please, Molly,' Hermione replied. 'There's a bottle in the pantry.'

A green flash flared in the grate. 'Minerva, here. Can I come through?'

'Of course.' Hermione got up to greet her old friend. 'Hello, Minerva. I take it you've seen the paper.'

'Indeed, I have,' Minerva replied, beaming. 'I always suspected... but... Oh, well, never mind.'

Molly brought another glass over to the table with the bottle.

'I can't stay long,' Minerva said, taking the offered glass.

'I've just come to tell you that Kingsley and I have organised a little get together for Severus...mainly surviving Order members and a few old colleagues...for later this evening. You're invited, of course.'

'Oh...' Hermione thought for a moment. 'Okay...if I can find a babysitter at short notice... I'll see if Mum is free.'

'At the Ministry?' Molly asked.

'Yes, for about eight o'clock.'

'Arthur and I will be there for certain.'

'How about Ron?' Minerva turned to Hermione.

'I can't speak for him,' Hermione replied. 'If I see him, I'll tell him.' She raised her glass. 'To Severus Snape: International Man of Mystery.'

The older witches cackled.

'No doubt we shall coax the truth out of him tonight,' said Minerva, clinking glasses with Molly.

A fist clenched in Hermione's stomach making her feel queasy, but she put it down to the quality of the wine.

~*~

It didn't take long for Hermione to come to the conclusion that she had nothing to wear. Every robe she owned was now lying on the bed, discarded in a heap, rejected as either being too small or too unfashionable. The final one, the one she had bought for the last social event she had attended nearly two years ago, was her last hope. It was a bit dressy, she knew, but it fitted and with a few judicious lifting charms... She sighed. Robes had the advantage of hiding a great many faults with the figure, but there was a fine line between a robe and a kaftan. If you knew where to cinch and push up, a robe could create an alluring suggestion of well defined curves. But a sash belted in the wrong place, as she knew only too well, could make you look like a sack of potatoes.

Turning from side to side, Hermione assessed herself critically in the mirror. The robe had a russet, low-cut bodice and sleeves, which emphasised her good points, with an ochre coloured skirt that flowed over her ample hips. She picked up her wand and ruthlessly disposed of the brocade trimmings, leaving a simpler, less fussy effect. 'Better,' she muttered. 'Now for some uplift.'

Reaching towards her little bookcase, she took Damelza's book off the shelf. In spite of its part in the mess that was her life, Hermione felt no animosity towards the small volume of charms. It wasn't the book's fault, after all, that they had stupidly combined two spells, and over the years, she had found one or two useful little gems within its pages. She opened the front cover and stroked the leather lovingly, wondering as usual who had owned it before her. The only clues were the letters 'E.P.' written in a strong, but Hermione suspected, feminine hand. Flicking to the section devoted to 'Improvynge the Fygure', Hermione set to work.

But there was a limit to what enhancing charms could disguise and how much a lifting charm could defy the laws of gravity. To Hermione's eyes, the end result was far from ideal. Undeterred, she rummaged for her cosmetics bag...a little charm to hide the dark circles under her eyes worked a treat, a light foundation evened out her skin tone; mascara, eyeliner and lippy, and she was done. Last but not least was the bane of her life: her hair. Hermione had worn it collar length since Rose's birth in an attempt to make it easier to manage, but without the weight, her hair was even frizzier, sticking out worse than before, and she had long since stopped bothering to fight it. She gamely tried a few straightening charms and tried to flatten it a bit to make it look at least halfway presentable.

'That's the best I can do,' she said to the mirror.

'Very nice, dear,' the mirror replied.

Hermione's face crumpled. 'I look frumpy, fat and forty,' she declared, and promptly burst into tears.

It took a few minutes for Hermione to wonder why she was so bothered. She never normally made this much effort when she went out, so why was she worrying what Severus would think of her?

'Severus? Since when has he been "Severus".'

Pulling herself together, Hermione repaired the damage to her makeup and grabbed her evening bag. 'That will have to do,' she said, taking a final look in the mirror before making her way downstairs.

Her mother, who was making hot chocolate for the children, looked up as she entered the kitchen. 'You look nice,' she said.

Hermione smiled wanly. 'Thanks. Sure you can manage?'

'We'll be fine,' Mrs Granger replied. 'Won't we, Hugo?'

Hugo nodded.

'All right, then. I'll see you later.' Hermione Summoned her cloak. 'Tell the twins not to give Nana any trouble, or there'll be no nature ramble for them tomorrow.' She gave them both a hug, tossed some Floo Powder into the grate and stepped into the flames.

~*~

Quite a crowd had gathered in the Ministry Atrium by the time Hermione got there. She was ushered towards an official reception room where someone took her cloak, and she was offered a glass of champagne. Spotting Ginny and the in-laws in the corner, she went over to join them. There was no sign of Snape.

'Do you know who half these people are?' Hermione asked Ginny.

'Ministers, Ministers' wives... daughters...' She caught Hermione's eye, and they both burst out laughing.

'Oh, the poor things.' Hermione wiped away a tear. 'Imagine being paraded in front of Snape, like so much... livestock.'

'Yes, but he's apparently quite a catch,' Ginny said, raising an eyebrow. 'Made his fortune in the East, or so they say.'

Hermione looked at Ginny, and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles again.

'Stop it!' Ginny fished in her bag for a hankie. 'You're making your mascara run. Here. Hold still.' Ginny dabbed at the splodge of black at the corner of Hermione's eye. 'Oh, there he is. Look!'

Hermione turned around in time to see Snape enter the room flanked by Minerva on one side and Kingsley on the other. A sea of people immediately surrounded them, and Kingsley had to call for order. Hermione hung back; after all, she only really knew Snape as a teacher. There were people here who had known him for years. She could wait her turn to personally thank him for all he'd done for them.

So Hermione patiently stood by and watched as people who could never known him at all, people who had despised him, people who had called him coward, tried to monopolise him, and she felt very angry on his behalf. She saw Harry shake his hand, but couldn't hear what words passed between them. Snape worked his way towards the buffet table, politely responding to all the well-wishers, and at the same time glancing about, scanning the faces in the room, obviously looking for someone. Hermione studied him surreptitiously. He looked lean and fit, and Molly had been right about his robes; they looked tailored and expensive. His hair was pulled back into a small pony tail, emphasising his sharp cheekbones, and while he would always be pale skinned, his face had a healthier, less chalky look to it.

Hardly surprising he looks healthier, Hermione mused. Last time I saw him, he was a corpse. It's bound to be an improvement.

It took a while for Hermione to pluck up the courage to approach him, but eventually the crowd thinned, and she saw her chance.

'Prof-er, Mr Snape,' she began.

'Yes,' he replied wearily, placing a chicken drumstick on his plate. 'And you are?'

Hermione flushed. 'I-I don't suppose you'd remember me, sir. Hermione. Hermione Weasley...Granger as was.'

Severus' eyes widened. Hermione noted a look of shock pass over his face, although he hid it quickly.

He swallowed. 'Miss-Mrs... Weasley,' he stuttered, offering her his hand.

Hermione leaned towards him to take it but stopped, letting her hand fall back to her side.

Face clouding in anger, Severus slowly withdrew his hand. 'Excuse me, Madam.' He started to turn away.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione said, dropping her voice. 'I didn't mean to insult you. I'm subject to a bond of fidelity, you see. I can't touch you.'

Severus blinked, and Hermione noticed a muscle twitch on his cheek. 'Weasley,' he said through clenched teeth, 'imposed a fidelity charm on you?'

'No,' she replied, 'no, he didn't. It's a long story...'

'There you are, Severus. The Chief Mugwump would like a word.' Minerva pointed in the direction of a short, bald wizard in turquoise robes. 'Would you excuse us, Hermione?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Forgive me.' Severus inclined his head and bowed slightly, holding her gaze for a little longer than was absolutely necessary before walking away.

A shiver went down Hermione's spine. For some reason, she had the most peculiar feeling that he was apologising for a great deal more than leaving her with only the canapés and cocktail sausages for company.

~*~

'Mummy, tell him.'

'It's mine!'

'But I want it.'

'It's mine.'

'Stop it!' Hermione screeched. 'Both of you.'

'She started it.'

'Did not.'

'Ow! That hurt.'

'Now, see what you've done? You've made your sister cry.'

The front doorbell rang twice.

'Hugo, would you see who that is for me, please?'

'Yes, Mum.'

'Where was I?' Hermione picked up her wand. 'Oh, yes. Which one of you did that?' She pointed to a stick figure of a man on a broomstick drawn in crayon on the wall.

'It was him.'

'You fibber.'

'Mum, there's a man to see you.'

Hermione spun around to see Severus Snape standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

'Have I come at an inconvenient time?' he asked.

'No, it's just...'

'Mum, he's doing it again.'

'How many times do I have to tell you? Stop pinching your sister.'

'But she kicked me.'

'I don't care.'

'SILENCE!'

Five shocked young faces stared at the tall, dark man.

Hermione immediately took advantage of the situation. 'You remember me telling you about Hogwarts and Professor Snape? This is him.'

'Yes,' Severus said with a smirk, 'and every word of it was true. So. It is a fine, sunny day. No doubt you can busy yourselves in the garden while I converse with your mother.'

There was a scraping of chairs and a mad rush for the door.

Hermione laughed. 'I see you haven't lost your touch. It's a pity you can't give them detention.'

'They're a little young for cauldron scrubbing, don't you think?' Smirking, Severus pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. 'Minerva told me you had eight children. I'm afraid I didn't believe it.'

'Well, it's true.' She ran her hands through her hair, feeling embarrassed. 'Please excuse the mess. I'll make some tea, shall I? And then perhaps you can tell me why you're here.'

'Thank you, yes,' Severus replied. 'That would be most kind.'

Hermione boiled some water and spooned the tea leaves into the pot. 'I'm glad you came by, actually. I didn't get the chance to thank you at the Ministry...for all you did in the War and so forth.'

'I did what I had to do.'

Severus did not volunteer anything further on the subject, and Hermione did not press him, but she could feel his eyes boring into her back as she moved around the kitchen. It was quite unnerving.

'Milk and sugar?'

'Just milk, thank you.'

Once the tea had been poured, Severus sat back in the chair and took a sip. 'I apologise for calling on you unannounced, but I only received my official pardon today, and my movements were restricted before that. I took the chance that you would be at home.'

'It's quite all right.' Hermione smiled and waited for him to continue.

'You must be wondering what this is all about.' Severus put his cup and saucer down and folded his hands in his lap. 'And I shall explain soon, but first I should like to know how one of the most intelligent witches it was ever my privilege to teach ended up here.'

Hermione would have normally been annoyed at being asked such a personal question, but the way he'd just managed to compliment her and sound so... disappointed in her at the same time totally threw her. 'What has Minerva told you?'

'Not very much,' Severus admitted, 'but I should like to hear it from you. You mentioned something about a fidelity bond at the Ministry.'

'Yes...' Hermione sighed and told him the whole story. Severus watched her closely as she gave him an account of the past nineteen years of her life, never interrupting her once. Feeling like she was back in school again, Hermione grew increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

Severus remained silent for a while after she had finished her tale. 'I have only one question,' he said eventually. 'If you had your time again, would you change it?'

Hermione snorted. 'Do you think I haven't pondered the "what ifs" over and over again? But what's done is done. I have to live with the consequences of my stupidity.' She sighed, gathering her nerve. 'There is one other thing... All these years, I have lived with the guilt that I did nothing to help you... in the Shrieking Shack, I mean. I want to apologise. I should have done something.'

'Oh, but you did.'

'Pardon?'

Severus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'I wasn't sure what I would find when I returned home, or the welcome I would receive. Of course, I expected you would be married...' He dropped his gaze to the floor. 'I did not know whether it would be better to leave sleeping dogs lie...at least until I'd ascertained your circumstances... but, now that I have seen for myself... and I owe you my life...'

'Sorry, you've lost me,' Hermione said shaking her head. 'I don't understand...'

'You will.' Severus took a deep breath. 'I-I modified your memories, you see...'

'You did WHAT?' Hermione cried. 'When?' To her horror, Severus drew his wand. 'Wha-what are you doing?'

'I've no intention of harming you, Hermione. Trust me, please. Just close your eyes.'

And trust him she did. Without questioning him further, Hermione closed her eyes and let the magic wash over her, the wisps of a deceptively gentle breeze dancing through her mind, tickling the edges of her sub-conscious, poking, prodding...

Hermione's eyes flew open, wide with shock, as barriers she didn't know existed fell away, allowing the missing chunk of her life to crash back into place...her brain linking up formerly severed pathways, making connections, turning half-remembered dreams into fully-formed memories:

Images of the battle. The Shrieking Shack (blood, so much blood): Voldemort's voice, Harry coming back from the dead, Neville decapitating Nagini, the headmasters' portraits applauding, fixing the elder wand... Is there a limit to magic...? The Great Hall: Ginny running towards them, the Weasleys... Is there a limit to magic...? The headmasters applauding... all the headmasters... all except... Snape. The Shrieking Shack: blood, so much blood but... something else...a smell... almost masked by the stench...

Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands. 'Make it stop! Make it stop!'

Severus leaned towards her. 'What do you remember?' he asked gently.

'Everything, Severus,' Hermione whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes. 'I remember... everything.'