September 2nd, 1994

—————S—————

"Have you discovered anything in your calculations?" Severus asked as he gave Hermione a large plate holding a bowl of soup and crusty bread brought to his rooms by the elves.

"There should be nothing for you to worry about, Severus." She replied, taking the plate and casting a charm to allow it to hover over her lap. "With Harry not being old enough to enter the tournament, there should be no cause for alarm. It looks as if the year should proceed, unusually, as normal. Well, except for having a bunch of foreign witches and wizards, but that's hardly going to affect any possible poor outcomes."

"Good," He replied as he discarded his robes. He began to work on the buttons of his frock coat when he realized Hermione was watching him very attentively. He cocked an eyebrow, his lips barely stopping the smirk. "Yes, wife?"

"Just enjoying the show." Hermione replied casually.

"I was your professor dressed like this." He reminded her, slipping the top few buttons out.

"You were my professor twenty years ago. And not for all that long. You've been at least my lover most of the time I've known you. And the buttons are quite sexy, considering I know what they conceal from the rest of the world."

"Awe, yes," He said, pausing in the buttons to loosen his collar and cravat. "Curse and battle scars, the ultimate in sex appeal. The wizarding world is missing out, aren't they?" He glanced to his wife as she gave a snort of a giggle, just beginning to wonder if maybe soup could wait for something far more satisfying, when the wards around his office tripped. "Bloody hell." He said, re-tightening everything, and re-doing his buttons as he headed for the door to his office. "Start without me," He called, hearing Hermione say something though not catching what it was as he was already through the door.

As he entered the room, so did Moody and Draco.

"Alastor, this had best be bloody important." Severus snapped, looked at Draco sternly.

"Got a date or something, Snape?" Moody hissed.

Which was ... odd. Really odd, now that he thought about it. Alastor was never the teasing sort, per se, but he always did have a knowing twinkle and a touch of innuendo to his voice when he spoke of Hermione to Severus. Always had. And he knew that Draco was friends with Harry, so the need to act like the auror who caught him was entirely unnecessary.

A tingle like spiders crawling up the back of Severus' neck reminded him of a time nearly thirteen years ago, when it was absolutely critical to wear many masks while walking the tightest of ropes. Something wasn't right.

"My wife has come to have lunch with me." He said simply. "What is it?"

"This one attempted to curse Potter in the back. No greater coward, I say. McGonagall reminded me I needed to speak with you 'bout it."

"He turned me into a Ferret!" Draco screeched, his voice cracking.

"Hush." Alastor snapped.

McGonagall. It was never McGonagall. Min or Minnie, maybe Minerva, but never anything less than casual. Student or not.

"Interesting." Severus said slowly, eyes darting between the two. "Thank you, Moody. I'll take it from here."

"A word later, Snape?" Alastor asked, a coldness to his tone that made Severus narrow his eyes.

"We shall see." He said. It took a moment for Alastor to leave, be he did so, and closed the door behind him.

Severus took out his wand and immediately cast wards, silencing charms, and a few spells he created in his spying days to misdirect anyone trying to break them.

He then turned to Draco who looked utterly petrified.

"I was under the impression that you and Potter were friends." He asked his godson while crossing his arms.

"We are!" Draco screeched. "But I can't exactly shake the blubberworms off first day in! I need to distract them first. So I had handed Harry a not in Hagrid's class saying I was going to be a foul git to him and Weasley at lunch time. It was pre-planned, a show. I mean, Weasley took it a bit serious, but I think the first five off spring likely got all the male brain cells and only left him brawn, anyway."

Severus arched a brow and demanded his lips not to twitch.

"So they knew. They knew I was going to get into it with them. I was going to miss them, and even if I didn't, it was a bloody jelly-leg jinx. Worse that would happen is Potter'd fall on his face, and Rory or Luna would need to fix it. Then Moody showed up and turned me into a bloody ferrat! Then proceeded to bounce me all about."

Severus nodded, finding that a bit odd, too. Even if Moody had got after Draco for show, he'd have pulled the boy aside and asked what was going on. Moody was mad after everything that had happened to him, and a more than a bit paranoid, but he wasn't as bad as the rumors led people to believe.

"Draco," Severus asked slowly. "First of all, are you injured in any way?" When Draco shook his head, Severus nodded. "Second, do not let that man even get a hint that you and Potter are close. Be weary. I don't trust that all is well."

"Unc-Professor, what ... does this have to do with ...?"

"The revel you and Aurora ended up witnessing? I don't know. Nor do I know if it has anything to do with why Arthur had to go assist Moody. Just keep a cautious eye out, trust no one."

Draco nodded, and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Draco." Severus stopped him. "Should anyone ask, you'll be having detention with me this Saturday evening in my classroom." He said the word heavily, hoping the hint would drop, and it would seem it had.

When Draco was out the door, Severus headed back towards his rooms, checking his pocket watch on the way. Plenty of time left, thankfully.

Hermione was on the sofa, still, a book in her lap, soup untouched.

"Didn't take quite as long as I was expecting." She remarked, not looking up from her book right away.

Severus came toward her, kneeling at her feet, waiting for her to finish and mark her page before speaking.

"I may need you to run another equation." He said as her warm, brown eyes met his.

"I expect you'll have me doing so frequently, and was already prepared to try a few with different factors. What do you need this time?"

"For you to run the equation factoring in Alastor Moody not being quite himself." Severus said as he reached up and began to undo the buttons on his frock coat once more.

He allowed the smirk when Hermione's eyes darted to his hands. "How so?" She asked.

"I will explain later. However, first, I need to devour something quite decadent. And then, time permitting, enjoy the lunch that was brought to us."

"Well if it wasn't the soup you planned to devour, then what was ... it...."

Hermione didn't get her answer, but Severus was fairly certain she understood precisely what he was thinking of by the time she headed back to her office at the cottage. Her soup was taken with her.

Severus barely had time to finish his.

September 5th, 1994

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"Bloody psychopath, is what he is," Draco ranted, and Aurora, Ginny, and Luna allowed him to as they took a stroll through the grounds on a decently fine day. "That thing could have bitten and killed any of us. And then to show us the bloody curses. If my father hears about this-"

"Are you really going to tell him?" Luna asked.

Draco shrugged. "It's against the ministry, isn't it? Showing the curses."

Aurora could hear the uncertainty in Draco's voice, the old habit of wanting to run to daddy so he could fix everything, and the broken trust that took place when he realized his father had been among the men to torment a family of muggles, children included, and burn the tents of witches and wizards for merely staying on muggle grounds.

"Maybe so," Ginny said. "But remember the whole Buckbeak thing last year."

"Shove it, Weasley." Draco said with a grin, elbowing Ginny for good measure.

They continued on talking about classes in general, walking about when Aurora noticed Neville sitting by the black lake, seeming to be staring off into the distance. She paused, frowning, glancing around to see if Dean and Seamus, or even Harry and Ron were anywhere nearby, and found Neville alone.

"Rory?" Ginny called, and Aurora looked to see the other three had paused.

"You lot go on, I'll catch up." She waved them off, then headed over to the bench Neville sat on. She came around, plopped down beside him, and studied him before he really snapped out of his stupor.

Prior to realizing she was there, he looked ... sad. Pained. When he noticed her, he still did, but now his cheeks were turning as red as his tie.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi," She said back. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." He said, sounding automatic in his response.

He started to look distant again. "Draco told me about the lesson. It sounded horrible." She added.

"It was."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, and he looked at her as if she were a Cerberus. "You don't have to if you don't want to...."

"You know your dad is my boggart, right?" He said suddenly.

"I'm ... yeah, I did." She said, face pinched in confusion. "But what has that to do with me?"

"You aren't ... you aren't going to tell him so he can use it against me in class?"

At this, her jaw dropped. "Why would you think I would do anything of the sort? I don't exactly tell him every little detail of everything I hear. I hardly talk to him throughout the year of anything but my studies and asking if he's heard from mum. You can trust me, Neville. I promise, I'm not some sort of spy for him."

She felt her face color at the phrase, and vaguely wondered if he ever would have asked it of her. She doubted it.

Neville nodded sheepishly, looking out to the lake again. "It was ... it was the cruciatus curse." He said quietly. "My Gran, she told me that's how ...." He darted his eyes to her a few times before he spoke the words barely louder than a whisper. "It's how they lost their minds." When Aurora frowned, Neville cleared his throat, and seemed to find some courage. "They were aurors. Went into training together, got married, had me. She always said my mum working while pregnant was what made me not be so magical."

"What rubbish," Aurora smirked, seeing a very faint smile pull on Neville's lips at her opinion.

"Not so sure about that. An Uncle tossed me out the window just to make sure I wasn't a squib. Anyway. They were ... they were rounding up the last of the Death Eaters when ... when they found some. The worst ones, those who were really loyal to You-Know-Who and really believed he was still out there. They were outnumbered. And ....

"Moody showed it to us. You said Malfoy told you about it, so I won't go in the details. He showed ... showed Harry how his parents died. And, I was actually jealous of him. His parents didn't suffer. His parents were given an end. Mine? They don't speak. They don't do anything. I doubt they remember anything. I'm not even sure they know who each other are, let alone me."

She wasn't sure if he realized he was crying through his anger, and she didn't want to draw attention to his tears. But Aurora still acted on the overwhelming need to hug him, wrapping one arm around his back and clutching his shoulder while she wrapped her other arm around his front in a vain attempt to reach her other hand.

Neville half surprised her when he reached up and clutched her arm, holding it tight.

"I get it." She said softly. "I can't understand, but I empathize."

She allowed Neville the comfort, which he didn't seem to need as long as she expected him to. Eventually, he let go of her arm, allowing her to withdraw.

"Moody gave me this fascinating book." He said, gesturing to the one on his lap. "Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. It's quite an interesting read, really. It's got a whole section on -"

"Neville," Aurora cut him off. "Much as I don't mind lending you an ear for your woes, I've had quite enough Herbology for the day." She said as she got up, satisfied he was calm.

Neville frowned. "But herbology and potions ... they go together."

"So?" She asked, and when he sat silent a moment longer, she rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm Professor Snape's daughter doesn't mean I like potions, you know."

"What do you like, then?" Neville asked, turning to watch her as she backed up the slight slop.

"I quite like Transfiguration. And I'm very interested in Charms and Runes."

She left out the part that included how she actually did like Potions. It was hardly the point, was it? And it was worth the tease, seeing Neville brighten up. She could almost get used to it, putting a different idea to the name of Snape. Maybe they would all think warm and welcoming and cheerful instead of dungeon bat.

But, then again, her father's reputation preceded her. Perhaps she'd settle for just expanding her circle of friends.

September 18th, 1976

—————S—————

He sat on the step, caressing the broomstick. His broomstick.

Severus had nearly bought himself one the year before, spending money such a foreign concept that he wanted to purchase just about anything that would make him one of the purebloods. But he withheld, a hope in his chest that maybe he would need new dress robes, and counting all the opportunities there would be to possibly impress Hermione or turn his favor with a gift.

He should have known she wouldn't have been materialistic, though he'd never have guessed she'd have barely required much pursuing. Admittedly, her mutual attraction to him had certainly aided in boosting his confidence.

But after knowing her heart was as much his as his was hers, that Hermione wouldn't need to be kept with gifts like he noted many of the girls in Slytherin were, he spoiled himself.

Was the broom top of the line? Hardly. A Cleansweep five, it was significantly cheaper than most of the others to make way for the newer model. But it was brand new, black and silver, and everything Severus dreamed of having when it came to a broom. It had arrived at breakfast, just after Hermione had came (nervously) toward the Slytherin table to inform him she had to go deliver a couple letters to the owlery, and she'd meet him in the courtyard nearest the lake as soon as possible. She had no idea he had it.

Which reminded him.

Reaching in his cloak pocket, he pulled out the small vial of shimmering gold liquid. Oh he would love to be able to brew it, and Slughorn had actually offered to allow him the opportunity if he so chose. But there was something about the glimmer in Slughorn's eye that made Severus weary enough to decline, citing never having a social life should he attempt such a long term and monumental project while still a student.

He watched the gold liquid roll around inside before glancing about, ensuring no one else was around to see, and taking three drops on his tongue. After all, he knew he needed a small bit of luck for his plan, but certainly not enough for a true dose.

He'd just recapped and tucked away the vial when he sensed her coming toward him.

He liked that, that since their first becoming physically intimate, he could sense Hermione when she was relatively near.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her curls tickling his skin as she frowned at the broom on his lap. "Is that yours?"

"It is."

"When did you get it? It seems like this is something I would remember you carrying about." She smirked.

"You had slipped into a more ... feminine shop."

"Ah," Hermione said with a nod. "So ...." She chewed her lip, looking distrustfully at the broom.

"Have you ridden with someone else before?" He asked.

"Well ... not a broom." She mumbled.

Severus reared back a moment, grinning slightly, "Not something I can know about, I take it?"

"No." She smirked.

He stood, something telling him to assert some authority in this case. He held out his hand to her, and Hermione took it, first as leverage to get to her feet again, and then to hold on to as they headed toward the quidditch pitch.

She made no protest, and he was sure that, with the Slytherin try outs to take place in an hour, no one would really question why a Slytherin sixth year was heading that way.

"Did your friends play quidditch?" He asked, curious if she would be able to answer. He shifted the broom slung over his shoulder as he took in the rings peeking over the walls of the pitch.

"Two of them were seekers." She said, taking a deep breath. He squeezed her hand, and she pressed on. "Two were beaters," She added easier. "The rest were just hopping to get on a team eventually."

Severus nodded. "And you were not one of them." He smirked.

"I am ashamed to say that flying was likely my only merely acceptable grade ever."

"Well," He said as they came to the field. He swung the broom down, mounted, and kicked off.

Oh he did so love to fly. He was a natural at it, and from time to time, the young flying instructor had taken pity on the poor half blood and allowed him to fly about and escape, well, everything. He hadn't done so much in fourth year, and even less last year.

He darted around the pitch, feeling the wind rush through his hair, against his face, wanting to close his eyes for the pleasure of it. But there was another sort of pleasure he sought, so he darted down, and hovered near Hermione.

"You want me to ride, don't you?" She asked in a half whine.

"With me. I'll hold you, or you can hold on to me, but I would prefer it the other way around, if I am to be frank." He said with a grin, holding out his hand toward her.

"Severus." She groaned.

"Where's that Gryffindor bravery now?" He taunted, knowing it would be precisely the thing to incite her indignation enough to get her to come up with him.

She groaned, stomped her foot, but held her hand out to him. He hoisted her up and on to the stick in front of her, allowing Hermione to hold on to the handle with both hands, and for him to put his arms around her.

There was a bit of extra direction needed of course, but the balance was pretty much there. He took off a bit slower than he had before, and he could feel how utterly terrified she was merely by the stiffness of her spine, but she never made a peep of fear.

In fact, he had thought flying with Hermione would have been heady for the physical aspect. He never would have expected that the greatest pleasure he would get from it was from how much it showed that she trusted him. Eventually, after about the fourth lap around the pitch, she even relaxed a fraction.

He almost said it up there, just after making a quick divergence, Hermione yelping before letting out a peel of laughter as they flew through the center ring on the far end of the field. He almost told her he loved her. That he wanted to marry her. That sixteen or not, he was never going to want to be with anyone else. It would have been simple, but he couldn't.

The liquid luck had left his veins, and he no longer felt like he could do anything.

October 31st, 1994

—————A—————