This is more of an idea than an actual fic, because I'm still working on it. Be nice and leave rew.

Ideas are gladly taken

Everything belongs to J.K Rowling but my OCs.

Hope. What a word. A feeling so strong that can only be compared with love and hate. That's what Hannah White thought the moment she saw her baby girl for the first time. She still remember what the mediwitch told her when she laid the little bundle on Hannah's arms: "she's meant to change people's lives. Don't ask me how I know, but I do".

She also knew. The war was rising, Voldemort was killing innocent people everywhere, and the baby's father was a Death Eater who knew nothing about his newly born daughter. "Thanks Merlin", she thought bitterly. Neither she nor her baby needed that kind of life.

And hope was the only thing the Wizarding World could feel at the moment…

Almost a year later, Hannah was mourning over her death friends. James and Lily Potter had been her friends since school years and their murder –plus the supposed death of Voldemort- were headline all over magic England. She felt the anger, the hate but most of all she felt left alone. They were gone forever and there were nobody left to tell her things were going to be all right. Eventually she moved on; she got to, her daughter needed her. Hope was only a little baby who didn't know what was going on around her and Hannah felt relieved because of that, she had enough problems dealing with her own misery.

And so another 3 years passed slowly and Hannah had found a job at the Ministry, in the department of mysteries. She didn't enjoy the work so much, but it gave her money to feed and dressed her little girl.

Hope was an average girl with her jet black hair, her deep dark eyes and her natural light tan skin. "Quite bright", Hannah believed; Hope could talk very clearly and speak her mind pretty quickly when she needed to. She also had this scowl that reminded Hannah of him: Hope's father.

That man had been in her mind a lot in those days, since she received a letter from him where he told her that he was working hard to redeem himself from all the damage he had caused; that the death of Lily gave him a reason to come back to the bright side. That he needed her to give him a second chance.

But how would a man such as Severus Snape take the fact that she had hidden a daughter from him? Not nicely, she could tell. Severus was stubborn and he could take offense pretty quickly if pushing the wrong buttons for too long. But she loved him, even after all he put her trough, she long for him. And she wouldn't be able to hide Hope any longer if he kept trying to reach her. She had to tell him.

Severus was shocked after first reading her letter, telling him she accepted meeting with him. And so excited that he didn't find estrange the place for the meeting at all.

A playground was the scenery; kids running and screaming around were getting into Severus patience while he waited for Hannah: "who is taking her time as always", he thought with a grin.

"Sev?" at the sound of his name Snape turn around to find himself with the woman who once he could call his, and so stupidly lost, because of what? Some stupid belief and the love he felt for a death woman.

Lost in her baby blue eyes he didn't take notice of the little girl beside her until she emitted a sound; "was that little brat calling her mum?"

Stunned Snape looked at the child with a questioning look in his face and asked: "is she yours?"

"Yes". Hannah answered simply, "and yours too".

And there it was, the same Hannah of school days, always to the point, not caring in wasting time with nonsense words.

"I really hope this is a bad joke of your part?" he spat coldly at her

"Hope…" Hannah said dreamily, " what a word, ahh?"

"you are not joking…" Snape said with hurt written all over his face.

"no, I'm not" answered Hannah looking at him straight in the eye. "what are we going to do now?"

And that's how Hope began changing people's lives, first of all her father's. A man who was destined to live his days alone was since that day in that playground presented with the possibility of love in his life. But the question was: was he willing to let himself been loved?