A;n, Honestly? I have No idea what I'm doing. Wrote one tiny little blip of a bunny that's been chasing me for years (The Rabid kind), saw the reviews, and thought, 'Well that wasn't too painful.' And so I thought I'd give this a go.

My obsession is showing, init?

Not mine. Don't own. Just having fun.

The war's over, for her at least. Voldermort's dead. Harry's alive. Ron's alive. And by some miraculous Twist of Fate, she's alive, and whole. Well, maybe not whole, but she's not broken, that's more than can be said for most. There's joy and grief and, quite possibly, a ham sandwich somewhere in her future.

She's young, and alive, and free, and the world is her mollusc.

...So why, 'Some one please, Why?' can't she feel it. Why does she feel so old? Why does she feel so dead inside, so empty? Why does it feel as though a part of her, the Greatest part of her, died today? Why does she feel so Trapped!? She's eighteen, and Ron's already discussing extensions to the Burrow, and baby names, 'Wha' d'ya recon to Chuddley, tha's alrigh for a boys name, Mione, innit?'.

By accident, subconscious design, or the whim of some perverse cosmic deity that she's not sure she believes in (despite Harry's little OBE), she finds her self standing before the door to the Potion Maters office. The office hasn't been used since Snape gave up the position in her sixth year. (Gods forbid Slughorn should have to climb the extra straircase on his way to lunch.) The office Should be empty. It's quite patently not.

Not that she really expected it to be. She has unfinished business here after all. And he had promised to wait for her.

candles burn in the wall sconces, a heavy iron cauldron chugs away quietly on a bench at the far side of the room. Three rucksacks lay bulging neatly just inside the door. Two blonds argue quietly, but fiercely before the bookshelves that cover the entire left wall, they are almost entirely identical in every feature, save an inch or two in height and breadth, and a slightly more squared jaw. suddenly the cauldron makes sense.

"variation on Polyjuice?" Her voice startles the blonds into silence, but her question wasn't directed at them. It was directed at the raven haired, not quite dead, former Headmaster, that has stood at his desk watching her silently and intently since she walked in. A cautious nod is the only acknowledgement she receives.

She hears the startled, "What's She doing here?" followed by the hushed and slightly deeper, "Be still boy!" to her left.

A beat. And then another. And then, "Have you decided?" His tone is flat, his face expressionless. But there's a burning...Something in his eye's.

There really isn't any choice, is there? And she say's so. "It's either stay here and stagnate, propagating the next generation of Weasleys by squeezing out a ginger menace every two years. confine myself to a life of mediocre drudgery at the Ministry, turning out work that I could have completed in my third year, regardless of the department I end up working for. Or find mum and dad," He has never acknowledged that she is 'Flesh of his Flesh', not from the moment it was discovered, but she's seen it. She's had to learn to look for it, but it's there, in the tightening of his knuckles, the grim line of his mouth every time she mentions her parents. "Not entirely sure that's the better option?"

Something very strange is happening to the laws of time and physics. One minute she's jabbering at him, swaying slightly as she tries to focus on him, and in the next he's right before her, holding her steady as he stares at her in concern. Although, true to form, not an ounce of that concern comes through in his voice. "I'm sorry, but somewhere in among all that verbal dhioria, were you saying you're coming with me?"

There's a naked hope in his eye's. It's terrifying, and strange, and raw, and, she thinks, 'Utterly exhilarating.'

"Yes please, Daddy." It's the first time Hermione Granger, and Severus Snape, come together as father and daughter. This hug, this all encompassing hug that lifts her off her feet, is the acknowledgement she's been waiting for. It's just a shame that it's accompanied by the sound of Draco Malfoy passing out.