This is part one of four. This story is complete as of now, though given that the "one shot" ended up turning into a story nearly twenty thousand words in length, I'm breaking it up in chapters. I'll likely post them a few days apart. Plus side, now that this little thorn in my side is done, I should be able to get back to focusing on Lost Founder and Bucket List, among other WIPs. Like Bucket List, this story features a Slytherin Hermione, though not quite the way you'd assume. Far more complicated, and I adored writing this one. Hope you all enjoy!
Two years after the fact, Hermione still wondered if her idea had been a good one. Yes, the children of Death Eaters were likely to be more inclined to side with the Light if they had a fellow Slytherin leading the way, but no matter how much studying she'd done, she still found it difficult to meet them on their level. End of the day, she was still muggleborn, even if nobody but she and her father knew that.
The idea had struck Hermione the night Voldemort had risen again, and Cedric had died. She'd read all about Obliviation, and knew it could be done on a large scale, and so she'd presented the idea to Dumbledore. The idea was that if the greater Wizarding world could be led to believe that she was the daughter of Severus Snape, and that she was placed in Slytherin House, it would not only allow her to be a voice to the sons and daughters of Death Eaters who were still on the fence so far as choosing a side, but it would also allow Severus a partner in his role as spy, who nobody would question. Further, taking her out of Harry's life would mean one less person Voldemort would try to use against the Chosen One.
Dumbledore had been easy to convince, and to her surprise, so had Severus. In fact, while the three of them were the only ones who knew who she really was - courtesy of mass Obliviation - she often times found herself forgetting the farce and just relishing in the pleasure of having a wizarding parent. Merlin knew she loved her Mum and Dad, but they were muggles. They couldn't understand her, and never would, and so along with the wizarding world, Hermione had agreed with Dumbledore that they too would need to forget her. One letter mailed to Hermione Granger would tear a hole in their subterfuge and put her and Severus in dire peril.
This was how she'd come to be in her seventh year at Hogwarts, sitting by the fireplace with her friend, Draco Malfoy, who was enjoying the attention of some younger students, telling them the story about how his father had ordered him to obey Voldemort - to kill Dumbledore - and how he'd spat in his sire's face. This was also why Draco stayed at Order Headquarters over the holidays. With Voldemort residing in Malfoy Manor, and Lucius clearly supporting him, it was the last place Draco could be safe.
Hermione let out a sigh as she thought about punching Draco in the face not too many years ago, after he'd called her a mudblood, and how so much had changed since then. For him, that had never happened. He remembered that day as the day he'd gotten into a fight with Harry and Ron, and Hermione had stepped to his defense. He remembered it as the day they'd become friends. Before then, in Draco's memory, nobody had ever stood up for him that hadn't been paid to do so. He'd stopped hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle after that. Neither of those two had returned to Hogwarts this year. While the Hogwarts rumor mill claimed they'd both been expelled for getting too many bad marks, she knew the truth. Gregory Goyle had been branded a Death Eater and chosen not to return in favor of serving his Dark Lord, and Vincent Crabbe had been killed over the summer while attempting to rob a muggle liquor store. Magical or not, a shotgun to the chest would do in anyone.
While it was difficult enough to deal with Harry and Ron treating her much the way Harry's father and the other Marauders had treated Severus, it was almost more difficult for Hermione to adjust to a world in which Professor Minerva McGonagall treated her like any other Slytherin. Fair, but strict, and decidedly emotionless. Gone was the tender look of understanding, and gone were the encouragements and freely given smiles of approval. It had taken most of Hermione's sixth year to figure out why the disregard bothered her so much. She'd anticipating losing friends when she'd agreed to do this. She'd not anticipated driving a wedge between herself and the woman she was in love with.
She supposed this just made her father and daughter dynamic with Severus even more realistic. He hadn't gotten the girl either.
"Malfoy, I'm going down to the kitchens for a snack," she announced. "Want anything?"
"Nah, Snape, I'm good," the blond replied, barely sparing her a glance before continuing to tell his tale to the younger students. While the two of them were friends, Draco had to keep up appearances just as much as she did. As far as the school was concerned, they'd been friends for a time, though in recent years they'd grown distant due to conflicting political positions. In private, he was the best friend a girl could hope for, though in public, he remained distant, aloof, and often quite rude to her.
She couldn't criticise him for it, either. He was doing exactly what she'd hoped he, and others like him, would do. He'd stood up for himself, chosen not to follow Voldemort, and was inspiring the next generation of Slytherins to do the same. He was proud, and she was happy for him, and the unfettered joy he'd found in his own freedom of choice made her own decisions, and the losses and hurts along the way, worth it.
Her thoughts were so occupied with grief that she didn't notice she wasn't the only person to have thought to get a late snack until a voice spoke, startling her. "Miss Snape," Minerva said crisply. "It's nearly curfew."
"I'm aware," she replied sadly. She remembered, not long before the Obliviation, being in this exact situation. She'd come down to the kitchen for a snack, and run into Minerva. That time, however, Minerva had been pleased to see her, not even mentioned how late it was, and they'd enjoyed chatting for nearly an hour over tea. "I'll just be getting a small snack and be on my way."
"Good."
The coldness in Minerva's voice cut Hermione deeply. As much as she wished she could, too much was at stake for Hermione to undo the Obliviate that had so altered her relationship with the woman in front of her. The damning part of this is that while Draco spoke up about being allied to the Light, given her role as a fellow spy alongside Severus, she was not as able to show her true colors. As such, Minerva judged her based on her frequent confrontations with Harry and Ron - most of which were actually her helping them, though they couldn't and didn't know that. All any of them saw was a girl who was just like her father - cold, calculating, and prone to pick on Gryffindors.
No, she couldn't undo the spell that locked Minerva's memory of a girl she'd once cared for away. Still, grief coiling in her gut, she couldn't stop the words coming out of her mouth. "You know," she said, locking eyes with the older witch, "in another life, you could have loved me."
Minerva looked surprised at the comment - surprised enough not to offer a rebuttal, and with a heavy sigh Hermione picked up her plate of biscuits and left the kitchen. From there, she made her way up to Severus' quarters. While she called him Father in public, and in many ways they had developed that sort of relationship, there was a level of equality between them that almost allowed for friendship. They were the two people in the wizarding world with the greatest secrets to hide, and so the trust between them was absolute, and in a platonic manner, intimate. He was her confidant, and there was nothing about her that he didn't know. Either she just told him things, or he'd learn via ongoing Occlumency lessons. Merlin knew she was more than proficient by now, but the practice was good for both of them.
"Hermione?" Severus asked, coming out of his bedroom upon hearing the door to his quarters open. "What's wrong?"
"I ran into Minerva in the kitchen," she sulked. "As usual…"
"She treated you like an enemy," he finished for her, sighing. "I'm sorry."
"Tell me it's worth it," Hermione begged, sinking into his waiting embrace. "Just… tell me it's worth it."
He held her tightly, just letting her cry, and as usual his response was unfailingly honest. "I'm not sure anything is worth a broken heart," he replied. "However, the good we are doing, the students who have a chance of a future free of darkness because of you, and the wizarding world that has hope of a better future… it's worth something. The rest, unfortunately, is life."
It wasn't that unusual to run into Hermione Snape down in the kitchens. Like Minerva, Miss Snape seemed prone to have tea and biscuits prior to calling it a night, and surprisingly, she didn't often opt to just call for a House Elf to get it for her. Minerva doubted that the young Slytherin had any sort of respect for the kind, little creatures. More likely she just enjoyed the solitude of a walk. That much the Head of Gryffindor could understand.
The words still ringing in Minerva's head, however, were beyond comprehension. "In another life, you could have loved me," Hermione had said. Had the words just been words, she might have dismissed them as a certain arrogance; a feeling the young woman had that stated that everyone should think she was worthy of their attention and affection. However, there had been a sadness in Hermione's tone that just baffled Minerva, and alarmed her. Above that, there was something inside of her insisting that the young woman had been right, which the logical side of the Professor was entirely dismissive of.
No. Hermione Snape was the daughter of a Death Eater, and regularly was excused from classes by her father to attend meetings. She had the Dark Mark - Minerva had seen that ugly thing - and in no reality would the Scottish witch ever associate willingly with an agent of Voldemort.
So why the wave of affection coursing through her? Why was she currently fighting the impulse to get up and go after Hermione, and for the love of Merlin, why was she referring to Miss Snape in her mind as Hermione? The girl was nothing to her. She was a menace, and a fine example of everything she didn't want to see in a student! She was disruptive in class, disrespectful to Professors, and she handed in work that was obviously below what she was capable of. Minerva didn't expect every student to be brilliant, but she did expect them to try their best. Hermione Snape was obviously decently intelligent, and yet she was handing in homework that, on a good day, would give her an Exceeds Expectations. More and more these days, Minerva was considering the merits of introducing the same weed out method that Severus did - no student got into his NEWT level classes without having an Outstanding on their Potions OWL.
Shaking her head, Minerva finished up her cup of tea and made for her quarters, intent on calling it a night. Hours later, as she lay sleeping, she dreamt about a young woman with curly brown hair, who was excitedly debating the finer points of Transfiguration with her. Also of note, the girl that even Minerva's subconscious was pretending she didn't recognize was wearing a Gryffindor tie.
The following morning, Minerva saw Severus at a staff meeting, and not for the first time looked at the man and wondered what sort of woman might have mothered his only child, and where she was now. Severus had never said, and the school records listed Hermione's mother as unspecified. Given that Severus did live, when not here at Hogwarts, in a muggle area, it was likely that the girl's mother was muggle, but to save his daughter from ridicule upon her sorting to Slytherin House, he'd simply declined to say one way or another.
As the meeting concluded, she went up to the Potions Master. "I had an interesting conversation with your daughter last evening," she remarked.
He growled at her. "Leave her alone, Minerva."
"I didn't seek her out," she replied, surprised by his roughly issued demand. "And I can hardly ignore her when she continues to be a plague on my Transfiguration class."
"Then avoid her," he suggested. "And I'll see if I can convince her to drop your class."
"Why?" Minerva asked, beginning to feel like not only was she missing something, but also that the something was rather important. "She's got the intellect to excel - you can tell by how she does in Potions - but in every other class, she hands in mediocre work. Why wouldn't you encourage her to work harder, rather than allow her to drop a class?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What did Hermione say to you?"
"That in another life, I might have loved her," she shared, desperately seeking some insight, even if it did mean talking to one of her least favorite coworkers. "What did that mean?"
Severus frowned. "Why do you care?"
"I don't know."
"Then I'd suggest you figure out the answer to the latter, and you may already know what she meant," he said after a pause. "And if not, then you're an idiot."
With that said, he stormed out of the room, violently slamming the door behind him. Minerva opted to avoid him for the rest of the day. Obviously, he was a bit touchy when it came to his daughter, and she supposed that was to be expected. The man loved very seldom, but when he did, he loved with his entire being. No matter how irritating she found both of the Snapes, she supposed she considered Hermione to be lucky, to have such a protective father. Granted, she still had no idea what she was supposedly guilty of, to earn his wrath.
"Meeting tonight, Hermione," Severus said, catching her after class two days later. "Meet me in the Entry Hall at six."
"Alright," she nodded.
Granted, she already knew about the meeting. Same as his, her Dark Mark had burned just after sunrise this morning, and like him, she knew that sunrise summons meant there was a meeting at six in the evening, just as noontime summons meant the upcoming Saturday at three in the afternoon, and a summons anytime after the dinner hour meant there was a meeting the following dawn. Otherwise, word was passed through the usual means; Owl or on the word of a known contact. The Order often communicated via Patronus, though the Death Eaters never did. Hermione supposed it was because a group of people so surrounded by darkness would be hard pressed to find a happy enough memory to conjure one.
Severus merely told her for show, in front of other students, to help maintain her cover as a young Death Eater among those of the students who still reported to their parents within Voldemort's ranks. Draco, as per his role in things, glared at her to further support her claim to darkness, given his clear support of the light. Her father's announcement was for Draco's benefit as well. He was not marked, but he was planning to become a Mediwizard and given that he did know the truth of her loyalty, he habitually joined Dumbledore in the Head's office about an hour after a scheduled meeting, where the two of them would wait for Severus and Hermione to return, tending their wounds as necessary. Dumbledore didn't even trust Madam Pomfrey with the identities of his spies.
After leaving Potions, Hermione made her way toward Transfiguration class, which she would not be dropping no matter what the hell her father said. What did he know, anyway? Alright, so maybe it was a special kind of hell to see Minerva in class, and deal with the brutish way she was treated, but even if she was handing in mediocre homework, she was actually learning a good deal. Upon rounding the last corner before coming to the Transfiguration Corridor, Hermione saw her fellow Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, cornering Harry. She sighed, and set her face to the cold mask she wore around her former friend, and approached.
Unlike Draco, Pansy was not interested in changing sides, thinking for herself, or anything of the sort. The girl reminded Hermione a good deal of Bellatrix, and she wondered if the mad witch she saw at meetings had once been like this - a simple bully.
"What have we here?" Hermione asked. "Parkinson?"
"Scared little kitty," Pansy replied, cackling. "Mama cat is right down the hall, and doesn't even notice her precious little Potter is about to get eaten by a couple of big, bad snakes."
Hermione rolled her eyes, mentally going over Pansy's psychological profile, and trying to decide how best to avoid Harry getting cursed or beaten to a pulp. "Bit scrawny for a meal, isn't he?" she asked.
Pansy shrugged, and Harry glared at her, defiance in his eyes even though his wand was held by Hermione's dorm-mate, leaving him defenseless. "The Dark Lord wants him dead. It hardly matters how little he is."
"You can't hurt me!" Harry challenged, in typical Gryffindor form.
"She can, I assure you, Potter," Hermione replied. "Though seriously Parkinson, it's hardly any fun if you've got his wand already."
By showing Harry to be an easy mark with his lack of wand, she'd appealed to Pansy's insanely large ego, subtly insinuating that it would make her seem a lesser witch to do Harry in when he clearly couldn't put up a fight she could later brag about.
Pansy grumbled, then tossed Harry's wand on the ground at his feet. "True. Another time, Potter. Watch your back."
Hermione resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief as Pansy sauntered toward class, and as much as she wanted to offer Harry a reassuring smile, she forced herself to look him over with an expression that showed boredom, before turning to follow her fellow Slytherin.
"You won't be able to hide behind your father forever, Snape!" Harry called from behind her.
Bracing herself for what she knew would be a hurtful comment to him, but knowing she had to put on a show, Hermione glanced back and offered a smug look. "At least I have a father."
She turned away quickly, not wanting to see the pain in his eyes. Of course, leaving Harry meant going to class, which meant being in a room with Minerva for the next hour. Damn.
Hermione was limping, Minerva noticed at breakfast the next morning. She couldn't see any evidence of a wound, but the Head of Gryffindor had heard from Lavender Brown that Severus had told his daughter they were expected for a meeting, yesterday in Potions. Minerva knew what that meant, and so supposed that Miss Snape was suffering the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse, much like she supposed Severus was. It was par for the course with Death Eater meetings, so she'd been told, though Severus had been dealing with it longer than his daughter, and was likely used to masking the pain.
It was beyond her understanding how a man who so clearly loved his child could put her in a situation to be tortured like that. It made absolutely no sense to Minerva. For that matter, Minerva didn't understand how Severus could buy into the malarkey that Voldemort spewed. He was an intelligent man, who knew how to think for himself, and other than his affiliation with his Dark Bloody Lord, he showed no sign that he was the sort of man who got off on power. This, of course, was a common character trait among other known Death Eaters.
Another thing Minerva didn't understand was how Albus could be so fooled by Severus. No matter what anyone in the Order told him, the Headmaster insisted that while yes, Severus bore the Dark Mark, he was reformed and trustworthy. Further, according to Albus, Miss Snape had not followed in her father's footsteps and been branded by Voldemort. Never mind that Minerva had personally seen the mark on the young woman's arm!
"I'll be fine."
Minerva, startled, looked up to realize that she'd been so lost in thought, staring at Miss Snape, that the young woman in question had approached unnoticed. "Who said I cared?" she replied haughtily.
Hermione sighed. "You looked concerned. In any case, Father told me that you've been unsatisfied with my classwork of late, and I wanted to assure you that I will try to do better. I don't want to drop Transfiguration. I quite enjoy it, actually."
"I'm pleased to hear that," the Professor replied insincerely, glaring. While one part of her did want to see Miss Snape apply herself properly, the seed of thought Severus had planted in her mind that suggested a world in which she didn't have to teach this particular student anymore had its own sort of appeal.
That evening, after Minerva had taken her nightly tea and laid down for bed, she found herself dreaming about the same girl she'd been dreaming about since the night she'd run into Miss Snape in the kitchen. This time, the conversation they were having was more vivid than any of the previous dreams she'd had.
"Honestly, Professor," the girl said, "I just can't decide between mastery subjects. I know I'm only in my fourth year, but I feel like I should know before my OWLs what I'm going to do for my career, so that I can put in the extra time to get the best possible grades in the subjects required."
"Most students aren't this forward thinking," she heard herself reply. "Though I confess, I was much the same as you are, my dear. That's likely why I broke records when I took my Transfiguration NEWT. How about this for an idea - weekly teas with me for the rest of term, during which we can talk about the different fields you're interested in, and I can try to help you narrow it down."
"That would be wonderful, Professor!"
Dream Minerva put her glasses on the coffee table, looking thoughtful. "You know, if you like, you can call me Minerva when it's just us. Obviously, you're my student and there are professional boundaries to consider, but I can't help but hope that even after you graduate, we might remain in contact, and become friends."
The girl's smile couldn't have gotten any brighter. "I'd like that...Minerva."
"I'm pleased to hear that," she heard herself say to the young Gryffindor in front of her, and she truly meant it. Hermione Granger meant something to her - more than any other student she'd ever met - though she had yet to work out what that implied for the future of their relationship.
Minerva woke with a start, panting. "Granger?" she asked her dark room. She lay there for hours, trying to figure out where she'd heard that name before, but couldn't come up with an answer. She also couldn't figure out how she could feel so fond of this… alternate reality Hermione, when the real Hermione drove her mad. What did any of it mean?
Then she remembered Miss Snape's comment. In another life, you could have loved me. "Ah," she reasoned out loud. "This is just my subconscious playing with the idea of if, in another life, Miss Snape had been sorted to Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. That has to be it!"
While she was able to fall back asleep after that conclusion was formed, somewhere in the back of her mind remained a shadow of doubt, still trying to figure out where she'd ever heard the name Granger.
This story may have cliffhangers. PLEASE REVIEW!
