He was brave, of course. And perceptive. Scarily so. Somehow, he always seemed to know what was going on. Not in an amusedly eye-twinkling, overtly hint-dropping, indulgently encouraging sort of way, like professor Dumbledore had been. No, it was something in the way his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. And though he had never told them in so many words, he had tried to protect them. He gave warnings but carefully masked them as chastisement. He hissed words dripping with venomous sarcasm in angry quiet tones. He told them not to get any ideas in their numb heads and it meant that they were to stay away from this or that, to never do so and so. All caution that the terrible three had thrown to the wind. No, his subtle guidance went woosh, over their heads and spurred them on. He was absolutely, definitely, undeniably up to something and headfirst -reckless and unprepared and oh so Gryffindor- they had dived forward, straight into the danger he had tried again and again to steer them away from.
And then there was what no one had ever suspected. There was Snape before : caustic, proud, evil incarnate, traitor; and Snape after: reliable, selfless, broken and human, so very human. Suddenly professor Snape had become Severus Snape and the notion of the horrible teacher being a burdened man shed a whole new light on things. Ah, how easily public opinion had been swayed. Harry had been all too eager to take the role of fierce defender of the dour Potions Master upon himself. "I must do something, Hermione!" It had worked. It had brought redemption for the spy.
The big turning point was when Harry decided to publish the memories Snape had given them in his dying moments. Unrequited love had a universal, timeless appeal. Severus Snape, hopeless romantic, misunderstood mole, a warrior fighting for a better world. Never before had a brilliant bookworm been a national object of desire but Severus Snape had hordes of swooning fans that sighed at the beautiful injustice of it all and wore pendants around their necks that said "Always".
Hermione, a brilliant bookworm herself, found this blind adoration laughable. Human nature was complex and she no longer believed in the strict divide of dark versus light. There were a billion shades between the simple distinctions of black and white and Snape, like everyone else, fell somewhere in the middle.
Still, when she saw him, many years later, looking much like she remembered, she could not deny that there was something... something attractive about the man. And she thought they might be good together. Two well-read geniuses with a joint past as well as joint passions. Yes, that was something she could work with. And so she forgot about Ronald Weasley.
Instead, she pursued the alchemy artisan relentlessly. She would meet him at the library or the art gallery. They would talk and he would find her amusing. Sometimes they flirted and Hermione enjoyed how he would lose control of his rigid posture and fidget and sway as she refused to avoid his piercing dark eyes. It took a long time for things to progress from there and a lot of effort. Finally, Hermione confessed her attraction and asked him out. On a date. That set the tone. It was Hermione who asked Severus to move in, Hermione who proposed marriage and Hermione who decided they ought to try for a baby.
Casper was beautiful. He had his father's eyes but her nose. Her unruly hair, but with his jet colouring. And he was smart, like his parents, with a penchant for losing himself in books for hours on end. Their little family was perfection itself.
" 'Mione?"
Hermione repeats what she has done many, many times before: she pauses the screen, opens the menu and clicks the save button before she looks up at her husband.
Hm?"
"Still working, are you?"
"Oh. Oh yes. Awfully busy," she says and the lie comes frightfully easily. She loves magic, but she is glad that he doesn't understand the muggle world as she does. To his mind, computers mean work. She is not about to correct him.
"Sorry for disturbing you then, but Rose is saying you were going to take her to Harry's? Something about a transfiguration project she's working on with Albus?"
"Oh. Oh gods, yes. I forgot all about that. I did promise. I'll just finish-" she says and moves to shut her computer down.
"Ah. No, never mind, love. I'll take her. It's no trouble. In fact-" He strides over to her side and Hermione slams the top of the notebook down, hiding the screen from his prying eyes.
"I know I'm not supposed to look," smiles the redhead and he kisses her forehead in a tender gesture of devotion. "Anyway, I was thinking, I could take Hugo out of your hair as well and we'll make do a bit of father-son bonding? It'll give you a few hours of undisturbed peace and quiet to do... whatever you unspeakables do."
"Right. Thank you," she says and she is truly grateful. Even though she is content, she needs this escape, occasionally.
"You're welcome." He turns to leave, pauses, turns back towards her and puts a finger under her chin, tilts her face up and kisses her lips gently, lovingly. "I'll leave you to your terribly important ministry work, then," he finishes with that amiable smile.
"Right," she smiles back, "terribly important."
As Ronald leaves the room, she sighs. She loves him, and she loves her children, certainly. But her life is no fairy tale, no utopia and she sometimes wonders if it could have been.
She opens the laptop again and unfreezes the game. Her fantasy world of stolen moments. What now? A second child perhaps? Or a pet? She clicks and clicks, the bright green diamonds hovering over the pixelated heads evidencing the perfect lives that she sometimes, only sometimes, secretly dreams of.
AN: There we are, thought I'd give this plot bunny a lawn to play on. I can absolutely imagine Hermione having a secret sims addiction so this has been bouncing around in my head for a good while now. I absolutely thrive on reviews so, please, do let me know if you enjoyed this little story.