Author's note: this is meant to be an AU look into the lives of those who survived the war. I am taking liberties with the epilogue and obviously with Snape alive I've disregarded some canon. There aren't any specific warnings aside from small episodes of PTSD. The chapters will be closer to 2,000 words this story and overall it will be shorter than my longest fics. Thank you for reading!
'"Fill 'em up." Harry smirked, serving the new mixed cocktail recipe that Draco had brought back from Ibiza, placing a sour cherry in each before passing them around.
"We've spilled more vodka on this carpet than the entire Black family did in six centuries, Potter." Draco toasted him, smirking right back to him and clinking his drink with Seamus and Dean, Hermione and Ginny, Ron and Luna, and finally his fiancée, Astoria, before they turned towards a knock at the door.
"What's the point of having all this house if I never have people around, even if they spill lemon or cherry vodka on the carpets?" Harry remarked as he looked through the tiny foe glass at his door, sure no one on the other side was meant to do them harm. He saw Bill, George, Fleur, and Angelina, and the night continued as it normally did, drinks and games, a bit of tapas and song before people effortlessly drifted home, safely of course with the new magical version of Uber and lyft, Portas, and some found rooms upstairs. It was a typical Friday night for the crowd, moving from the odd years of training and university, to adulthood with legitimate jobs and meaningful relationships. Sometimes they met at a pub near the Ministry, usually littered with other colleagues or former classmates, sometimes they retreated further away, to avoid the prying eyes and ears of those who seemed only to covet their fame. In these times, they met in a quaint little pub a mile north of the English border, where the bartender seemed to not mind the rousing debate of young witches and wizards over reform, quidditch, who was going to apply for which jobs or why the current administration was setting itself up for repeat if the chaos that immediately followed the Second Wizarding War, the odd return to normalcy and nostalgia, reflecting the lives of those who'd fought in the First Wizarding War. Sometimes it was all they could do, the young who survived trying to make it as adults, not to scream, pack it all up and move abroad. Wizarding Britain seemed stuck in a time loop. But life was good for them, to them, and though things hadn't turned out quite like they'd imagined, they were happy to be alive.'
Hermione finished writing a snippet of memoir, her observations of her friends and coworkers and all of the experiences they were having post war. She'd already devoted an entire chapter to their pub-hoping shenanigans, but it all suddenly seemed trite, how they galavanted between towns and worlds, Wizarding and muggle, and how easy it seemed their professions had come to them. Sure, she'd gone back to Hogwarts for her seventh year, worked hard for Magical Law Enforcement and on Elf rights, but getting interviews and finding placements seemed rather perfect. The only thorn in her side, the only piece of the puzzle she could never figure out was her cantankerous old professor, Severus Snape. Once he'd healed and disappeared, he rarely showed up again, maybe once or twice a year for Ministry gatherings, obviously baited by Kingsley Shacklebolt, and once she saw him at the Quidditch World Cup in Budapest, but other than that, she'd almost forgotten he'd even survived until suddenly, he was at their favorite pub in Northumberland and she couldn't help but wonder and worry about his life. It became an obsession.
The first time she remembered seeing him outside of the ministry and sporting events was with Bill Weasley in Cyprus. Bill had consulted her office after five elves, who'd been reported kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy had been found in Nicosia and since she was working to further elf rights and as a foreign liaison for Shacklebolt, it seemed only fitting that Hermione go to Cyprus. It was simply jarring to see him, Professor Snape, someone she hadn't really seen for more than her last class meeting sixth year, in khaki pants and a white linen shirt, looking incredibly Greek. She almost didn't recognize him at all, except for the massive scars on his neck, the telling reminder that he had suffered greatly. Otherwise, he was tanned, his hair was shorter, and the clothes he wore seemed so atypical to what he wore when she was in school.
"You know it's impolite to stare." He quipped, shifting his casually folded arms to the strictly bound ones she remembered from her youth. She saw the faded dark mark through his shirt sleeve, peeking through even though it was not nearly as dark as it had been the last time she'd seen it in the Shrieking shack.
"I'm just surprised to see you, sir, I meant no offense." She refused to cower, to make herself appear lesser in any way, to give him the satisfaction she had so many times when she was a student . The satisfaction of her disappointment or pain of the memories of years he'd tainted her, made a joke of her willingness to learn, of her appearance even.
"Come, Hermione, we need to get started on the paperwork straight away." It was Bill's natural ebullient nature that made her feel instantly calm. If she had only been able to love Ron and to be the woman he wanted, a wife who would take care of him as his mother had, but she just hadn't been able, not for even a few months of dating. They were so mismatched once they finally came together that it easy to fall back into friendship, awkward for less than a few weeks before she didn't feel the need to sneak around Grimmauld Place to avoid him, nor he. She'd wished to be a Weasley if only to be part of a family so tight-knit and connected, but found she didn't have to be Ron's girlfriend for that to be achieved, she was already accepted by them and had been for years. All of these thoughts made her a bit weary as she followed Bill, the Cypriot sun baking the tip of her nose and crisping her cheeks the longer they stood out front of the elaborate building.
"So you aren't going to tell me why Professor Snape is here?" Hermione finally said, walking through the museum doors, each step echoing from the marble stairs.
"I am no longer a professor, you may refer to me as Master Snape or not at all." She heard from behind her, so shocked that he'd been following him that she tripped up two stairs and smacked her knee cap, instantly spouting such foul language Bill couldn't stop himself from laughing. Severus hadn't expected the words to come from the petite woman raised by dentists in a swanky suburb of London. "Do be careful, Ms. Granger." He'd offered his arm to her to complete the stairs, but Hermione cast a quick spell on her knee and tucked her wand away, annoyed and shaken. When she followed Bill into what she had assumed would be a conference room, she realized immediately that the situation was far more dire than she'd expected and certainly not about five missing house elves.
After being in the room for ten minutes or so, Hermione saw detailed maps all over the walls, ancient and new these maps shows every nook and cranny of Cyprus. It was like re-learning runes as she looked around the room, ancient languages with bits and pieces of other mixed in, creatures I such detail that she'd never seen or heard of before and suddenly she could not, even briefly, surmise the reason they'd brought her from her office in London to a museum in Cyprus.
"Is this when I get briefed? Because I'm formulating theories here and none of them involve a lowly MLE agent who defends creature rights." Hermione looked over her shoulder at the men and wasn't surprised for a moment when she saw Harry enter the room, trailed slowly by Kingsley Shacklebolt and a woman who was so beautiful it was thought she lit the room with merely her presence.
"Good day, Ms. Granger, I am Filla Drakas, Minister for Magic of the independent magical community of Cyprus. I have heard many wonderful things of you, please, join me." Suddenly a table appeared near of the maps Hermione had been studying intently, but now she could not remove her eyes from the Minister.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Minister." Hermione swiftly sat, folded a napkin across her lap and felt Harry's hand on hers for a moment. Although she was confident and competent, since the war some parts of her personality had shifted, made her second guess herself when she clearly she needn't have, because she was still employed and doing something she actually cared about.
"Now that we have one more member of the team, I suggest we fill in Harry and Hermione." Bringing his glass to his lips, Bill turned to a projector and started playing some kind of recording.
"In 1965, we came across this map, it was expertly hand-copied from one that our ministry kept secret for milenia. We do not know who was able to view it or how, but if was found in Scotland, in a cave near the Caithness. Professor Dumbledore," at this she paused, Hermione could clearly see pain in her eyes and then a swift, note devilish sneer towards Snape before continuing, "He brought it immediately to my predecessor, but noted that nothing appeared changed, no curses or spells on the document, nothing was altered in the slightest. It wasn't until four years ago that one of our researchers noticed this." Minister Drakas used her wand, a rather long, knotty pine to point to an very small spot on the map, near a section of odd formations and she saw some topographical shapes that appeared altered from all of the other maps. It was the Cape Greko region, a port famous to the Romans.
"Good, I knew you would spot it." Bill whispered, smiling towards her and nodding to Shacklebolt.
"There is a curse on this region, a serious business of people getting stuck in a time warp, forever driving the same day, except they have no realization of this. Deep within the rock formation there is a set of runes, we don't quite recognize them and we cannot get close enough to see them now, there are two barriers, the curse and a creature." Even with all the information she'd been presented, Hermione still couldn't quite out why they'd brought her. Suddenly her tea was full again and new biscuits and baklava appeared before her, the immense pull of the honey made her want to dive in, how long had it been since she had real baklava?
"Mr. Potter, you will continue to shadow Aurors Whitehall and Benault, this will go towards the final hours you need to complete stage three training. Bill, we need you and your team down at the site as soon as Famagusta Bay is cleared. Hermione, we need your help not only translating the runes but working with the creatures, specifically the merpeople."
"I'm not ungrateful for this opportunity, Minister Drakas, but my expertise is lacking at best when it comes to runes, I haven't studied them since I was at Hogwarts and my communications with merpeople, I-" but Kingsley cut her off.
"Before you protest again, let us remember your NEWT scores in Ancient Runes and your essay in Care of Magical Creatures, a class you ceased taking your third year and yet, you earned an outstanding NEWT score. We would not have asked you here if we did not have faith in your knowledge, your abilities as it were. You will not be working alone, there are six other translators you'll be working with, and Severus of course." Hermione eyebrow quirked as she turned to the curmudgeon next to her. She had no idea he could translate much, aside from the requirements of his former profession as a potion professor.
"I simply want to restate that I feel this beyond my abilities but am willing to assist." The thought there were others who would be researching and working with the different creatures and the runes. She hadn't known that Master Snape had experience with runes, the other languages they were working with, and the creatures. And though knowing that the British Minister for Magic, regardless of their history, felt that she, Hermione Granger, had done well enough on her NEWTs to be considered for international work was enough to make her feel that she'd earned her place in Cyprus. Kingsley had shown a soft spot for them for years, but she hadn't expected this level of special treatment, even if he would not admit to it.
"We will meet tomorrow at seven sharp to debrief, but now I believe it would benefit all to have rest." Hermione bowed awkwardly to the Cypriot and then followed Bill out of the museum, her mind racing with what was being asked of her, though it didn't quite make sense, this curse and possible creature situation seemed to amount to a small kerfuffle compared to something larger, something they were perhaps discussing. Bill hesitated only a moment before he apparated them both to a rather nice location, olive trees and figs, air smelling of history, the building was traditional old, she could tell.
"Welcome to my home, Ms. Granger." HIs voice, the once effortlessly baritine voice of her former professor now a bit scratchy, still jarring and never anticipated. So she was to stay in Severus Snape's home, it appeared Harry and Bill were as well.
"The aurors will be in the annex, Potter, your room will be on the third floor, as usual Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger you will have this room." The moment she walked in, she thought it was a joke, it was magnificent, marble, full wardrobes, an ensuite bathroom, balcony overlooking the sea. Her amazement shown keenly on her face and she could hardly thank him before he turned and left her. After setting her bag down, she let the magnanimity of the day catch up to her, she was actually in Cyprus assisting a mission to break a curse and perhaps free a people.
"Dinner will be served at half eight." She hadn't known he was still watching her, but upon hearing his words, Hermione nodded and smiled at him, trying to imagine how much nicer his life must be in Cyprus than in the United Kingdom, where innocence was subjective. It never seemed he was able to live a typical life after he was cleared, the prejudice against him mounted only more so as time went on. Signing, she took her beaded bag and set a few things in the wardrobe, took some books from the small library she carried, on runes, the languages of ancient peoples, and curses. Becoming too enamored both with the literature and the sea, Hermione missed dinner time, falling asleep in the balcony sofa, books strewn about. An elf came to tidy up and leave a warm tray for her, but when the sweet little elf reported back to Snape, he made it a point to check on Granger himself. Quietly, he cast a few charms to keep any bugs from her, and made the chair she was sitting far more comfortable, the crick in her neck would be disastrous if she wasn't pushed into a new sleeping arrangement and he did not want to deal with her ire in the morning. More than anything he wanted her to be safe, though his home was extremely well-protected by spells and enchantments, he didn't quite trust anyone and certainly not a former student who had stolen from him before.