Author's note: no. I'm not giving up on my two other Snamione, The Assistant and Becoming One. The first one is near the end, while the second is just in the beginnings.

I'm writting I'll Be Your Guide for a kind of French Harry Potter NaNoWriMo, and more than 16 000 words are already written. It will be a kind of triptych (I don't want to use the word 'trilogy' because it's not exactly one). The first part is composed of two chapters, and the next ones will be longer.

Anyway, this story will be a short one I guess, I don't plan to write more than 40 000 words on this one (and it will be done in the next few weeks with luck). Let's see it like a novel then. I'm trying to find a unconventionnal plot, and I hope that you'll like it. Don't hesitate to let me know what you think.

Status: un-beta'ed, I have to see if my amazing Beta wants to work on this one. :o)

I'll Be Your Guide

Part I - Chapter I

Feeding bottles: ready. Diapers? Delicately placed in a large bag, near the wipes and the talc. Rose Weasley's toys had suffered the same fate, and it is with a satisfied smile that Hermione Granger quickly closed the bag that she had prepared a few minutes before. A glance at her watch was the origin of the umpteenth sigh of her day which was not yet very advanced. The nurse who cared for Rose since a little over than four months was supposed to pick the little girl up at the stroke of eight, as she usually did. But it was already ten past eight, and Hermione feared not being able to open the bookshop on time.

It was Rose's cries that interrupted her thoughts. Nervously biting her lower lip, Hermione walked to the room of her daughter who had already taken her first feeding bottle of the day earlier. Her face starting to blush since she was screaming her lungs out, Rose held out both arms to meet the warmth of her mother's chest.

"I am here, Rose..." Hermione whispered, gently raising the head of the little girl in the hollow of her shoulder, squeezing her against her chest. A kiss behind her ear was enough to appease her, and Hermione began to rock her daughter.

"Gloria will be here in a couple of minutes," she added, close to Rose's ear. "You do love Gloria, don't you?"

The little girl with the chestnut hair had a delighted smile before burying her face again in her mother's shoulder, embarrassed. The doorbell ended this intimate moment that Hermione loved to share with her daughter, and it is with Rose in her arms and her diaper bag carelessly thrown over her shoulder that she took the direction of the front door, passing through the living room at the same time.

The door opened on the red face of Gloria, a young woman of almost thirty year-old, obviously out of breath.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione, I had to pick up Ethan before Rose," she explained, breathlessly, pointing to the little two year-old boy who was quietly seated in the two-seater stroller.

"It's okay, don't worry," Hermione reassured her with a smile. "I know that you didn't accept in the first place, but if it suits you better, I can totally drop Rose every morning at your place..."

"No, no, no," Gloria interrupted her, gently taking Rose from her mother's arms. "It's not a problem at all, it's my job," she explained proudly. "Isn't is, Rosie?"

Rose smiled at her before putting her head on the shoulder of his nurse, her gaze fixed on her mother, while Gloria took her diaper bag from Hermione's hand.

"Be good, Rose, mom will get you around seven o'clock if everything goes well," she said, sending her a kiss with her fingertips. "I prepared everything, even the feeding bottles," she explained to Gloria's attention.

"Oh, I trust you, Hermione. You are one of the best organized moms I know," she replied, gently depositing Rose in the stroller. "Say goodbye to mom, Rose!"

"Mama!" Rose exclaimed by sending her a kiss too, as Hermione had taught her.

Gloria, Ethan and Rose slipped away in the hallway of the building, and Hermione quietly closed the door behind them, a smile on her face. She took advantage of finally being alone to go to the bathroom to put a final touch of makeup, necessary to give her a little more freshness for the day. Rose had settled down since a long time, but it was true that being a mother was exhausting. A single mother on top of that. A glance at the mirror above the sink told her that her shadows under her eyes were no less visible than yesterday, despite this miracle cream praised by every magazine that she read on her nights of loneliness, Rose already asleep in her cradle. With a sigh, she quickly closed the tube of cream without delicacy and placed it on the sink before going to put her shoes.

To run her own bookshop allowed her a freedom that she couldn't normally afford. To manage her time as she wanted was an important asset, and Hermione couldn't thank her parents enough. Almost a year ago, they had helped her in so many ways. They had given her a considerable sum of money, helping her to build a decent future for herself and Rose. Her first reaction had been, of course, to go looking for a fairly spacious apartment to welcome the both of them. This small three rooms nestled in the outer suburbs of London, over an hour from the capital, was an idea of her mother, and Hermione had fallen in love at first sight. The building was small, since only three homes had taken residence there. Hermione didn't regret this investment, and having chosen to go into exile away from the bustle of London had allowed her to keep enough money aside to carry out a project close to her heart since many years, but that she never had the opportunity to achieve: to open her own bookstore.

The location hadn't been easy to find, since Hermione hadn't wanted to return to London. Her argument was clear and simple: she didn't want to live more than an hour away from work. How would she do if Rose was sick? Her parents hadn't necessarily agreed with this choice, but when, two months after moving into her new apartment with her daughter, she had heard about the retirement of a bookseller at less than fifteen minutes from her home, Hermione hadn't hesitated. She had taken her courage in both hands, and had met with the owner, a certain Edward who looked strangely like Dumbledore. Edward was certainly not as old as the former headmaster of Hogwarts, but his paternal attitude and his sometimes incomprehensible humor reminded her Albus Dumbledore and his half moon glasses in many ways.

They developed some kind of father-daughter relationship with time, and Rose adored him. Thus, Hermione had offered Edward to redeem his business, something the old man had accepted without hesitation.

"It is rare to come across someone as caring as you are, Hermione," he had said to her the day he had given her the keys of the library.

Thus, the former Gryffindor had became the owner of a small bookstore, with the desire and courage that had always characterized her. "Where there's a will, there's a way" she had a habit of repeating like a mantra when the urge to give up became overwhelming. More than once she had been complimented by the customers for the advices that she was always happy to share. This comforted her in the idea that this career choice was definitely a good idea.

Shaking her head to chase those memories , Hermione pulled on her trench coat and left her apartment. She walked over to the car she had bought two months ago, just after obtaining her license. Having grown up in a Muggle environment had significantly helped her not to feel like a total stranger to these habits and customs. This was her life now, she thought, turning the ignition key, ready to face a new day.

XxX

"A candy, Severus?," the Healer said in a languid tone.

The sorcerer looked up from his potion, visibly irritated by the rantings of the young woman who gently slipped a Bertie Bott's bean in her mouth, staring at him.

"It will not be necessary, Miss," he managed to whisper before turning his attention to the potion gently simmering in the cauldron.

"You know, I have a foolproof method to avoid falling on a treacherous Bean," she continued, approaching him, crunching the candy at the same time.

"I do not doubt it," Severus muttered, giving her a sidelong glance.

Samantha was not his favorite colleague, far from it. The eyes full of desire that she used to throw him since his arrival at St. Mungo's hospital a little more than six months earlier made him increasingly uncomfortable, and he couldn't understand why. Why did this young woman, ten years his junior, keep making him advances after he has made it clear in a thousand possible ways that he was not interested? She was highly desirable, Severus didn't deny it. Her long blond hair caressing her back seemed silky, and her bright blue eyes were splendid. But Severus was not interested in her, or any other woman for that matter. The only things that were interesting to his eyes were his potions. And it was enough for him.

"You just need to..." Samantha began, putting her hands on the chair where the former Potions Master was sitting.

"I do not doubt your... capacity, Miss, but as you can see, someone is trying to work right now," he interrupted her coldly, looking right in the eyes of the Healer. "I guess that you have to visit some patients too, am I wrong?"

He saw Samantha swallow hard, eating at the same time her damn candy, and nodded.

"Have a nice day, Severus," she mumbled before quitting his office, leaving the door open behind her .

Finding himself alone at last, Severus Snape sighed. For several months, he had been working on a way to prevent and cure the cancer, and for the umpteenth time, his potion had failed. A grayish color was coloring it, and it was the only sign that he needed to understand that it wasn't a success.

And yet... For months, he had spent his days and nights trying to develop this miraculous potion. For some reason that no one knew about, cancer had not affected wizards for centuries. This disease that everyone had thought to linked to the condition of Muggle had managed to hit them with full force somehow, and it was not one, nor ten, but more than a hundred of sorcerers who were facing this disease, and nobody could explain it.

There was only one thing that wizards were not able to heal: death. But cancer? Come on, there had to be a cure, a treat, a potion against this simple illness! But when some wizards had died due to complications, not necessary linked to the disease itself though, the wizarding world had been alerted: a solution had to be find. Muggle treatments were deployed in hospitals, and St. Mungo's was no exception to the rule. Chemotherapy, radiotherapy became the rule. But the knowledge of wizards about Muggle medicine was not the best, and they had to rely only on what they had found in books.

Out of rage, Severus rose hurriedly, nearly overthrowing the cauldron at his feet. Everyone was counting on him, on his expertise in the potion field in order to develop an effective potion against this cancer that gnawed the wizarding world without giving them a breather.

Running a tired hand through his long black hair, Severus approached his desk and put his parchment on which he had worked all day on it, before opening a drawer at his left, where he used to drag his documents once the day was over.

But this time, the tray didn't open. Frowning, Severus took out his wand and cast an Alohomora on the lock, without success. Exhausted by his day, and not wishing to stay any longer in a place that reeked of disease, he decided to change his ways and opted this time for the right drawer which opposed, fortunately, no resistance.

While he was preparing to file his own parchments blackened with formulas of any kind, his eyes fell on a stack of yellowed parchments. Curiosity finally prevailed, and after depositing his researches on the desk, he passed a quick hand on the documents he had found, in order to remove the dust as best he could. A small layer of dust remained stuck on the tip of his fingers, but he didn't care about it. The title, writting on the first parchment in black letters, was quite evocative:

"Researches on the multiple remedies against cancer"

Severus moved his thumb that prevented him to read the second line of writing, and his heart skipped a beat.

"By Hermione Granger...," he whispered.

XxX

The bundle of parchment slipped from Severus' hands and settled on his own researches. With a trembling hand, he began leafing through the documents, as if he was searching for an answer to his desperate quest. His eyes fell repeatedly on known terms of the ingredients that he had himself used, but nothing seemed to completely overlap his own tests.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Severus quickly weighed the scrolls and realized that the work done by his former student was more than substantial. She had probably spent entire days and nights studying this topic. Yet, he remembered while slightly frowning, that cancer was not a common disease in the wizarding world when she had been employed at St. Mungo's. So why had Hermione Granger researched as extensively on the subject?

Hermione Granger... He had of course heard of her at his arrival at St. Mungo's. More than once, he had smiled to each healer who had extolled the qualities of the young woman in front of him. She seemed to have had some impact on the policy of the medical establishment in the recent years. The waiting time of patients was now much shorter than in the past, and medical monitoring was more advanced. A true healer/patient relationship had been created over the years, and the influence of Hermione Granger hadn't been negligible. The war had left many families destroyed, and she had wanted to find a way to put her knowledge to the greatest good : she had managed to do it brilliantly.

For several years, she had worked tirelessly, conducting important research leading to discoveries altogether surprising at times: the latter had been to find a potion in order to regenerate the brain's nerves connections, a first in the magical world.

But it hadn't been her latest discovery, Severus thought, turning carelessly the parchments that were now scattered on his desk. Hermione Granger tried to go further, but after reading the last parchment, he realized that she had not managed to get to the end of her research.

Cursing softly, Severus leaned against the back of his chair. This research was a basic beginning. He could try to cross the information found by the young woman with his own, crossing fingers that something interesting could come out of this work.

He eventually crossed his hands on his stomach, stretching his legs as best he could. The day had been long, and once again, going back to Spinner 's End wasn't something that he was waiting for. And yet he could not stay here in St. Mungo's, while the hallways emptied gradually. Suddenly, a woman stopped at the open door of his office, looking surprised.

"Severus Snape doesn't close the door to his office? That's a first," said a healer with green eyes of a fairly advanced age, clutching a bundle of documents against her chest.

"The truth is, Mrs. Jones, that a certain blonde – that I will not name - seems not to have learned the basic rules of community life," he explained with a slight grin.

" Ah, Samantha has done her own," explained the healer with a slight laugh. "She doesn't want to let things go, does she?"

"She should...," Severus finally sighed. "You're on guard tonight?"

"Hmm," Eterna Jones nodded. "Besides, I have to go see a patient now. Do not spend too much time here, Severus. Good evening."

Severus greeted her with a nod as she disappeared down the hallway, taking care to close the door behind her. The gaze of the man in the black cloak once again fell on the name of Hermione Granger, and it is with haste that he regrouped all the parchments that were on his desk. A night of research was waiting.

XxX

Hermione slid the key into the lock of the door of her bookstore at around half past eight, thus ending her workday. The night began to fall, and she was eager to pick Rose up. Gloria's house was located only a few minutes by car from her work, and the trip went off without a hitch. She finally stopped in front of a house made from pale pink bricks and parked in front of the painted wooden fence. Hermione noticed that Gloria had planted some new plants of roses, and she had a tender smile as she walked toward the front door, ringing twice.

"Oh Hermione," Gloria exclaimed, with her delicious Spanish accent. "Rose awaits you in the living room, come in."

Hermione went into the charming house, full of children chirping . Ethan was the first child who she laid her eyes on, and she leaned over in order to kiss him on the forehead. After four months, she had learned to appreciate these children who lived almost daily alongside his daughter. She was happy to have had the opportunity to convince Gloria to become Rose's nurse. And yet, the game hadn't been a sure thing, Gloria refusing to deal with more than two children at a time. It had played in the nurse's favor somehow: it had been a sign of seriousness to Hermione's eyes. But Gloria had been already busy with Ethan and Chloe, an adorable little blonde. Hermione had had to insist several days to make the nurse give up. Actually, it had been Rose who had made her give up, with her smiles and tranquil character.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes caught her daughter, and the latter began to crawl, avoiding as best she could the toys that were piled on the floor.

"Miss Rose Weasley, I think that you can walk, can't you?" Hermione said, taking her in her arms. "Were you good with Gloria?"

Gloria let out a delighted laugh, taking Ethan in her arms.

"Better than this one, for sure! Ethan did not stop bothering Chloe today. Rose was lucky not to have to endure him this time," the nurse explained.

Rose put her head in the crook of her mother's neck and began to gently close her eyes.

"Well," Hermione said, I see that this little girl is tired. We are going home, Gloria, and thank you for everything."

"It was a pleasure as always, Hermione. I will be here tomorrow at eight o'clock this time, be sure of that."

Hermione gave her a kiss goodbye and slipped out of the house, after taking Rose's diaper bag. She hugged her daughter against her chest to protect her from the cool nights of October and moved to the rear of the car, taking care not to wake her.

There was a ten minutes drive which separated the house of Gloria to her own apartment, and they were quickly reached. Rose did not wake up when she got to her room, and Hermione laid her in her crib with soft movement, slightly closing the door behind her as she walked into the living room. There, she took off her boots and walked to the open window in order to close it. Hermione frowned; she was almost sure that she had closed the window the night before.

Suddenly her eyes fell at her feet, and she saw a red envelope, closed by a wax seal on the back. She rolled her eyes, knowing what it was: a howler. With haste, she went to shut the door of Rose's room after casting a spell on the room so the little girl couldn't hear anything that was going on outside and joined the living room once again. Without using her wand, she cast various spells on the red parchment that was still sealed in order to reduce the intensity of the message that would be issued shortly. She had thought to throw the letter into the fire, but she knew that it would not help her problems: the letter would open in the fire anyway.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the letter and dropped it on the coffee table, as if it had burned her.

The parchment seemed to take life, and it twisted into a grotesque mouth paper.

"Hermione Granger Jane, said the letter with a loud voice, but as muffled by a gag. "For several days, several weeks even, I have not laid a single eye on my grandaughter, Rose Weasley! I hope that you'll fix this problem in the coming days. But you have to know," the parchment said in a softer voice, " thatour door is always open to you, my dear. We await you."

The letter fell on the coffee table, and Hermione ventured to take it in her hands. As she expected, the parchment was signed by Molly Weasley, Rose's grandmother. Hermione sighed. She knew that not bringing Rose to see her grandparents was a mistake, and yet she could not bear to take her to the Burrow all weekends as Molly seemed to want it. Their last visit to the Weasley's had been more than two months ago, and since then, the young woman had the greatest difficulty to get there again.

Not that their last visit had been a nightmare, far from it. But it turned out that the Terrier reminded her too many memories, so many memories she had been trying somehow to put aside. Memories of her life before, memories of her life alongside Ron.

Hermione gently folded the letter and put it on old letters she had received since her departure. Letters from Ginny, Harry, Neville... These letters were all expressions of support from her friends, but that she had never bothered to respond. What could she say after this? At twenty-seven, she was trying to turn over a new life, and dwell on the past was not a good idea. This is why the only photograph of Ron that she had kept was in Rose's room, near her cradle. Even if she did not want to think about her past, her daughter had the right to know her father after all.

With a trembling hand, Hermione took a blank parchment that was on the small table next to the couch, close to the lamp that her mother had bought for her a year earlier, and a quill. It was one of the few relics of her old life she had kept: her quill and some ink. Sometimes, she had to face suprised looks from her customers mainly, but she argued as she liked to write in an old fashion. Holding a pen was so inappropriate for her after all these years with a quill that she hadn't even tried to give it a shot.

Her quill stopped a few inches from the parchment, while Hermione bended a little more over in order to be closer to the coffee table. Finally, she began to write.

"Dear Molly, dear Arthur,

I understand your sorrow at the thought of not seeing Rose as often as you want, but taking care of the bookstore represents much of my time. As you may know, I just use Muggle transport now and coming to the Burrow takes me several hours. However, I will make an effort to come with Rose this weekend, so that you can see her. She often asks me about you.

With all my love,

Hermione"

Once the letter was written, she folded the parchment in three and walked to the window that she had just closed a few minutes ago. She certainly had not seen any owl, but she knew that it had remained close to her apartment, Molly knowing that she had no owl. As she had anticipated it, an owl came to rest at the window once she had opened it, and opened its beak to take the freshly written letter in its beak.

"Return to your sender," she whispered, patting his head awkwardly.

The owl opened his wings and flew into the night, leaving Hermione alone, leaning on the windowsill, lulled by the gentle breeze of October.

XxX

With his elbows on his desk just lit by a lamp that was beginning to give up the ghost, Severus rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time of the evening. A quick glance at the clock overhanging his office was enough to make him understand that it was high time to go to bed, yet he tried somehow to keep his eyes open. He had just read an interesting quote of Hermione Granger research, interesting enough to keep him awake.

"[...] In the present state of knowledge, it is unlikely that a vaccine, a spell or a potion could emerge in the months and even years to come. But a combination of medical Muggle technology and magical medical technology is possible, and it would be good to dig in this direction. One does not go without the other, and work collaboratively with medical big names of the muggle world seems necessary. However, the track of a combination of Chinese chomping Cabbage, Runespoor eggs and Ruta Graveolens can't be neglected. [...] "

Severus recognized there the fine and tightened writing of his former student, and he could not help but smile thinking about the fact that the young woman was twenty years his junior. Yet this did not obviously prevent her to be the smartest woman he had the opportunity to know during his forty-six years of life.

With haste, the former Potions Professor took a book that was on the bookcase that was on his right, dragging his chair sideways to access it. He returned to his desk by the same gesture, the Book of Magical Ingredients on his lap. He knew of course the three ingredients listed by Miss Granger, but their link was not obvious to Severus. How these three different ingredients could also give a mixture that may be a solution to the problem of hundred of wizards? He flipped over a dozen pages, marking some with small papers he slipped here and there, and after a good half hour, he gently closed the book and laid it on his desk. Sighing, he ran a weary hand through his hair, letting his back go against his chair. Nothing made sense, and yet, Severus knew that the key was not far away, that there was an avenue to explore.

"But surely not at three in the morning..." he muttered, rising from his chair, resting on the desk to stand up.

He then went to his room, where he locked himself and undressed with slow gestures before slipping under the sheets. His eyes closed almost instantly, while a crazy idea began to germinate in his mind.