—————H—————

Severus,

I've made it back to Hogwarts by train but arriving ahead of everyone else has made the journey quite strange. Professor Dellard, Elinor, has been as eager for me to begin as I have been. It feels strange to be in the castle to learn, yet not be required to dress the part of a student. It feels like I've been at Hogwarts for the majority of my life, but that's because it often seems as though life only began when I arrived here in this era.

And now I've grown maudlin, which wasn't my intention.

Missing you has become easier since our friends and I have gone our separate ways. It feels more natural now for you to be where you are, since we're embarking on the journey to apprenticeship together. Though I do wish I could have maintained a friendship with Remus, but he seems to hold little interest in that. Sirius, I'm afraid, is the only one I'm still in contact with, as it seems even Lily has disappeared.

I wish I had more to say, but really, I merely wanted to write you a letter to tell you that I love you. I love you and I miss you, always.

Yours,

H.

Hermione clutched the letter in her hand as she walked through the silent school to the Owlery. Occasionally, as she would walk through a beam of light, she would look down at her left hand and inspect the emerald and diamond ring as its facets shone. She loved her ring, everything about it. She'd penned a letter to both Prince women to extend her thank yous for letting Severus give it to her, and both wrote back how they looked forward to seeing it on her hand in person. She loved that it was more Severus' house colors than her own, because she was not at all ashamed to be a Gryffindor marrying a Slytherin. It made her smile as her heart warmed with every look at it, so much so that for the short time she was with the McGonagalls, Delia teased her mercilessly over her examination of it.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said from behind her, and Hermione stopped, slowly raising her Occluding walls more than her norm as she turned to face the headmaster. He smiled at her. "I was wondering if I might have a word with you?"

"Of course," Hermione replied. "Could I meet you in your office? I'll only post this letter and I will be there shortly.

"Of course," he agreed as Hermione felt him prodding her mind. She slipped an image of Sirius past her walls, just a flash, and she felt the headmaster retreat. "We'll say fifteen minutes?"

She nodded in acceptance and continued on her way.

Severus had told her the night of their engagement party of his interaction with Dumbledore.

"He's dead set against it," he had said, lying next to her in their borrowed bed at Malfoy Manor, nothing but a blanket covering him. "He is utterly adamant that I remain alone. Unattached."

She hadn't said anything, merely smirked.

It made Severus smirk back. "You know something."

"I always know something," she retorted.

"Yes, but something that means this is—"

"I know enough to know for sure that Dumbledore will not get his way."

She had, of course, been thinking of Severus' daughter. The daughter who bore a slight resemblance to her, enough that some even remarked on it. The daughter she was now confident was her own. And she remembered from her former life that Dumbledore wasn't so convinced that Severus...

No, she had to keep that line of thought tucked away. Thinking of the lovely dark-haired girl yet-to-be was fine, but if the headmaster thought there was a chance that that girl could be someone else's, he would only increase his meddling.

Hermione arrived at the Owlery, posted her letter, and then made her way to the headmaster's office.

The gargoyle moved aside when she recited the password, and she moved up the stairs to the door where he bid her enter and stepped in.

It had been too long since she had last stood in the office. Even the official acceptance of her apprenticeship had been done in Professor Dellard's office. The last time Hermione had been inside the room had been the night Severus was nearly attacked by Remus.

"Hello, Hermione. May I call you that?" Dumbledore asked as she came in.

"You're my boss now, Headmaster. Hermione is fine."

"And you may call me Albus, when away from the students. Hermione, I know you're going to be quite busy with your apprenticeship, but I was hoping that you would be willing to join the Order of the Phoenix, now that you're of age."

"I suppose you mean now that I've graduated."

"Yes." He smiled genially. "That's right. Now, with your knowledge of the future—"

"One that I cannot change."

"—I think that you could be vital in helping us avoid any losses that may happen from a Death Eater attack."

Hermione blinked. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I'm afraid that my knowledge is not that extensive. I only know about larger significant events. If anyone has knowledge about their activities, it's Severus."

"Yes," the headmaster agreed. "You are correct, Hermione. More than just your knowledge of the future, however, is the fact that... oh, I see."

"Do you?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yes," he answered, and Hermione noticed the sly shift in that stupid twinkle. "You see, you can work with us, go on scouting missions, fight against the Death Eaters when necessary. But so long as you're with Severus, you cannot be with us. You would tip the Death Eaters off to one of the reasons Severus is there, and he could never be trusted. And if someone from the Order who doesn't know you—"

"Well, while I think someone from the Order who doesn't know me wouldn't know Severus, making that point moot, you do bring up an excellent point, Headmaster. I shall have to consider what can be done so that I may help the cause," Hermione cut in, rising from her seat lest her emotions get the better of her. Rage simmered beneath the surface, behind the increasingly weak Occlumency shields. So that was his plan? Withhold her chance to do something for the cause unless she ended her connection with Severus. Nothing would be worth that, and so she would find another way.

—————S—————

"You gave letter with Amortentia last year, no?" Nikola asked Severus as he gently misted the parchment with a small amount of the love potion. His letter was already written, and he hadn't planned on adding the potion to the parchment, but he liked the idea of making it a tradition while they spent her birthdays apart.

"I plan on giving her more than this," Severus said, reaching into his frock coat pocket and taking out the Advanced Arithmancy text he'd purchased.

"A book," Igor sneered from his corner of the work space.

"Yes," Severus threw over his shoulder. "My future wife is an avid reader and scholar. Yvonne does ... what, exactly?"

Nikola smirked, then nodded at the book. "You don't do frivolous with her."

"No. She's not the sort of witch who would want trinkets. She is practical."

"She is good choice," Nikola approved with confidence before hissing and swearing in Russian, clasping his left arm. He looked up, confused that neither Severus nor Igor felt the pull of a call. "I must go," he said simply, summoning his cloak and mask before putting his wand to his Dark Mark.

"Why did we not get summoned?" Igor wondered, and Severus was wondering the same thing. It seemed strange that their master would be called to the Dark Lord on his own.

Severus continued preparing Hermione's gift while trying to think of a way to alert Dumbledore. He couldn't very well cast his Patronus and send it on its merry way, even attempting something like that would leave most, if not all, Death Eaters as maggot meal. It would be suspicious to run off to the nearest Floo, even with the excuse of speaking with Hermione. There really wasn't a way; it would have to wait.

Severus assembled his gift, took it to the only owl they had access to, and sent it off to his witch.

He then sat down and resumed working on the counter-curse for Sectumsempra . He was close, but there was something about the incantations he had tried that didn't feel right. His past creations had been fairly simple, the runes were easy, the incantation perfect. Yet the Latin kept troubling him. He tried it a bit longer, and then set it aside.

He thought of Hermione's letter from just a week ago. She had told him that Dumbledore would keep her out of the Order as long as she remained with him, using the excuse of her being seen by either side. That had a simple solution, didn't it? They could use Polyjuice and a few random Muggle hairs. Well, maybe not that simple, he supposed. It was just a matter of disguise, and he was sure Dumbledore knew that. Well, they would simply need some sort of charm. There were plenty of them that witches and wizards used to conceal flaws, to change hair color. All they needed was for Hermione to hide in plain sight.

Hide in plain sight. Latere Aparto .

Severus rose, heading for the washroom down the hall. He added a locking charm and a Muffliato to stop Igor from snooping, something the odd man tended to do from time to time. Severus looked at the mirror, pointed his wand at himself, and repeated a few times, "Latere Aparto."

With his intent clear, he felt the new spell recognize the command. His hair lightened, curling just a bit. His eyes changed too, to a deep hazel, and his nose looked less hooked. And his face was fuller. All in all, Severus found himself looking at his reflection with the sensation of having seen himself before, but not quite remembering where or when. He smiled, because at least this came easily. He was losing faith in his spell-creating abilities after spending a year trying to find the counter-curse to Sectumsempra .

" Finite ," he said, and a wave of panic hit him when he continued to look the same.

He thought things through after taking a deep breath. He asked to hide in plain sight, so why should a simple Finite work?

"Seipsum revelare," he said, and nearly sobbed when he felt the magic drain away, revealing himself. Satisfied at having accomplished something, Severus left the washroom and returned to the workroom within an appropriate time frame.

The way he had come up with a simple solution to Hermione's dilemma, made Severus take another look at the counter-curse to Sectumsempra. He wanted it to heal wounds, of course. The wounds would heal. Would? Present tense would be are... wounds are being healed. Vulnera Sanentur. He made sure that Igor was preoccupied and rolled up his left sleeve. He pointed his wand just above the Dark Mark.

" Sectumsempra ," he whispered, angling his wand just so, so the cut wouldn't be too deep. He barely waited for his blood to appear before he said the counter-curse.

He felt it working but noticed saying it once wasn't enough. He repeated it, seeing it work a bit more, but still not enough. Anyone with more damage would die. So, he said it again and again, the constant chant working best. In fact, he found he was nearly singing the incantation, soft though it was. And the wound closed entirely without a scar, as if he had never had a wound.

He had to tell the Order, ASAP.

Thoughts of the Order reminded him that Nikola still hadn't returned. A glance at Igor revealed his own concern. It wasn't just him.

Just before Severus could ask, a loud crack of Apparition sounded from the sitting room. When he didn't hear anything more, Severus moved to investigate.

He found his master on his knees, panting, sweat on his brow trailing down his face and temples. And his left arm, gripped tightly in his right hand, was bleeding.

Nikola looked up and met Severus' eyes. He knew then that Igor had not followed, for Nikola did not look away.

"It seems our esteemed Lord decided the first of us are too old to stand for old ways," he panted raggedly, removing his right hand to reveal the bloody sleeve of his white oxford. Severus knelt beside him, realizing with a sickening twist in his gut that the bloodstain on the sleeve was a perfect outline of the Dark Mark. He helped Nikola push up his sleeve, revealing flesh that looked as if it had been cut with a jagged knife.

"May I try a spell I have been working on, Master?" Severus asked quietly, putting as much respect into the request as he could, emphasizing the title in an attempt to relay to the man that he was the only one Severus served to whom he genuinely wished to apply the title.

"Da," Nikola replied, wincing in pain, gripping his arm just above the wound.

Severus hovered his wand over the area and began to chant his spell. He was mildly surprised it worked and watched with fascination and euphoria as the wound healed itself. And as it did, Nikola's breathing evened out, his grip on the arm slacking. Tension left his body, and as the last of the ugly wound turned to a scar, he let out a sigh of relief.

Severus accioed a scar treatment and handed it to the man. Nikola took it, lifting the jar in thanks before unscrewing it with shaky hands.

As he applied the ointment to his arm, he said, "Two died. Could not live without Dark Mark. Think one is mad. All first Death Eaters, all friends of Tom Riddle, cast out. Not strong enough. Too old. Less willing. Was supposed to be about purity. About preserving magical blood. Purity, not so good over time. Need new blood. Preserving, that's good. Tom Riddle, he doesn't see like that no more. Not so sure man is even still wizard."

"I could turn you in to him for speaking like that," Severus warned, meeting his master's eye.

"You don't want what he wants. You do not want Mark. You want Hermonee, quiet life. Apothecary."

"See right through me, do you?" Severus said sarcastically, masking how much hearing the truth terrified him.

Nikola shrugged. "See myself in you."

That, at least, offered some relief.

"Where is wretched one? Did not even come to see if I was tortured. Or dead." Severus let a gust of air that sounded distinctly like a snort.

"He's trying to perfect his alterations to the growth potion, I believe."

Nikola began to rant in Russian, and Severus knew enough of the language to barely keep the smirk off his face at the colorful choices Nikola made in insulting his other apprentice.

—————H—————

She was thinking about the spell's creator when she used Latere Aparto for the first time. The results stopped her heart a moment.

There, in her bedroom mirror, was Aurora Snape. The memory of what the girl looked like had faded since her arrival, having not known the girl for long. But when she cast the spell, thinking of her future husband, Hermione had inadvertently placed some of his features upon herself, and the result was a slightly older version of the girl she was now certain was her daughter.

"Bloody hell," she murmured to herself, shocked to find her voice sounded different. She immediately cast the counter-curse, then forced herself to clear her mind.

Before she could cast the spell again, there was a knock on her door.

"Enter," she called, rising from her vanity table and heading to the door just as it opened.

She paused at the sight of black hair coming through her door, her heart dropping when she saw the face under it, and the roguish grin that came with it. "Sirius," she said warmly, quickening her step a bit and pulling her friend into a tight embrace. "I've missed you."

"Have you?" he asked, rocking her around in a semicircle.

"Of course, it hasn't been the same without you," she said as she pulled back. "Though I confess, you're not the dark-haired man I was hoping would walk through my door."

"Would that have been me?" The drawling voice had Hermione practically shoving Sirius away to see if Severus was really in her doorway, and she ignored her friend's chuckles as she threw herself into her fiancé's arms.

The strength of Severus' embrace was precisely what she craved, what Sirius' arms had nearly calmed but not quite enough.

It had been one of the toughest birthdays since she'd left the nineties. She had no friends in the castle, only Minerva as anything close to family, and Dumbledore constantly niggling at her Occlumency walls made her nineteenth birthday feel more like any other day. At least there had been a drink in Minerva's chambers, which led to a good chat and laugh, and a package from Severus that she greatly appreciated. But she'd missed the others. Mostly, her favorite men.

Hermione kissed Severus as passionately as acceptable in Sirius' company.

"You're going to make me jealous that I haven't had a decent snog in far too long," Sirius said, making Hermione pull back.

"You can't have him, he's mine," she said simply.

"Oddly enough, I'm not attracted to blokes with black hair," Sirius replied. Severus must have made a face, because Sirius gave him a devilish grin and added, " Most blokes with black hair."

"You mean you aren't trying to sway Potter to your side?" Severus asked, turning to face their friend while keeping Hermione close.

Sirius looked mildly disgusted. "Prongs most certainly isn't my type. And even if he were mildly attractive to me, he's nearly back together with Miss Petal."

Severus groaned and rolled his eyes but said nothing.

After a beat of silence, Hermione said, "Much as I adore having you both here, I would very much like to know why."

"Dumbledore," they said in unison, and Severus waved to Sirius to go first.

"He wants me to take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Honestly?" Hermione asked, and the dubiousness must have been too obvious, since Severus barked a laugh.

Sirius looked a mix of hurt and humored. "I may not have been top of our class like some, but I did get an O in my DADA N.E.W.T., thank you. And it's mostly as an assistant."

"Because Professor Sagan looks ready to fall over?"

"Or sleep," Sirius agreed.

"So why did Dumbledore allow him to fill the post?" Severus asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Sirius admitted. "I think they were friends at one point or another."

"Or lovers," Severus mused. "In fact, perhaps he's one now."

"They're easily a hundred or more." Sirius grimaced.

"Yes," Severus replied, "only about three quarters through their life, if all goes well."

"And why were you here?" Sirius asked, clearly not wanting to think of the headmaster and the professor he was meant to be shadowing.

"A report," Severus replied. "Things happened and since Nikola is feeling under the weather, he let us have the weekend free."

"So, you're here...?" Hermione asked with a hopeful lilt.

"Until I must return."

"Shall we head down to the Three Broomsticks, then?" Sirius suggested.