Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to JKR. I make no money.

A/N: This story was written as a series of drabbles. It is complete and will be posted in five chapters. Thanks to my wonderful beta a bees buzz!

'Mum! Guess what?'

'Hello to you too,' said Hermione, as her daughter skidded to a halt and took the seat beside her in The Three Broomsticks, visibly struggling to contain her excitement.

'The Shrieking Shack! It's haunted! Really haunted!'

'Don't be silly, Rose. It's never been haunted; it was only a rumour.'

'But it is! Albus and I just went to take a look inside, and there was this really weird noise, like someone was crying. And then we saw a ghost, a really scary, angry looking ghost! I'm not so sure, but Albus swears it looked like Headmaster Snape!'

oOo

Once Rose had finished her lunch and said goodbye to her mother, Hermione had time to consider the news.

She didn't know whether to believe Rose or not. On the one hand, she was sure her daughter really had seen something – or someone – but on the other, neither Rose nor young Albus Potter had ever seen the late Headmaster alive. Only on some old photos, but that was a long time ago, and neither her nor Harry's family made a habit of showing the kids pictures of Snape.

'Well,' she thought. 'There's just one way to find out for sure.'

oOo

When Hermione entered the Shrieking Shack, it was quiet. And dark. There was barely any light coming from the windows – no wonder, as it was late November and the sun was already setting.

'Anyone here?' she called out, feeling vaguely silly for asking questions of an empty house.

Upstairs, the floorboards creaked.

As a sudden gust of wind closed the door with a loud bang, Hermione jumped, only to admonish herself for being scared of nothing. Until she heard a voice – one she had not heard for over two decades but could never forget.

'That depends on who is asking.'

oOo

Hermione stood still for a few moments.

'This is impossible,' she told herself. 'We'd have known if Snape returned as a ghost. All these years, and no one has found out before? This has to be a trick – did the kids set it up somehow?'

Encouraged by her thoughts, she lit her wand and started climbing the stairs.

Something cold touched her hand, passing through her fingers and nearly making her drop the wand. She swallowed nervously, her throat dry. Suddenly she was not so sure any more that this was a trick.

'Well, well. If it isn't Miss Granger.'

oOo

'Professor?' she whispered.

A few steps above her, the air flickered. A moment later, it took a shape she instantly recognised.

'Indeed,' came his response. 'To what do I owe the honour of this … unexpected visit?'

Hermione took a deep breath. She was a Gryffindor, she reminded herself. Familiar with ghosts. A grown-up. A mother, for Merlin's sake! This was a mystery to be solved, and she'd be damned if she allowed herself to seem like a bumbling, scared schoolgirl.

'My daughter informed me that she and her friend saw a ghost here. Your ghost. I came to investigate.'

oOo

'That red-headed brat was yours, then. I had wondered how someone looking like a Weasley would have come to be in Ravenclaw.'

The familiar sneer she remembered too well from her Hogwarts days looked oddly misplaced in the translucent face. In fact, nothing about him seemed quite right. It looked like Severus Snape – hooked nose, hair that still looked greasy, two bite marks on his neck – but something was off.

'Your robes … They're not black!' she exclaimed.

'Quite. How wonderful to see that you've put your vaunted intelligence to good use. Have you ever seen a ghost wearing colours?'

oOo