Author's Note: I just wanted to say "thank you!" to you all for reviewing and favoriting or reading! :)


Chapter 2

Severus pressed close to her door, Disillusioned and feeling distinctly ill-at-ease as his fingers caressed the cold wood of their own volition. She was...single? Free? Glancing down at the letter he held, he wondered if perhaps this could truly work. A year (or supposedly true love's kiss, but that was a mere conjecture) would free him from a curse he'd inflicted upon himself. Granted, neither he nor Albus were sure what would occur if she did see him before either of those came to pass, but as there were no records of someone who'd cursed themselves, they were more or less flying blind. He knew that Hermione was curious and had left her a small clue that would, hopefully, deter her from seeking him at night.

Dipsy tugged on his shirtsleeve as the night ended, the drunken revelry inside having long-faded into sleep. He was terrified – would she reject him? Would she keep him? Did she even want children? He had no way of knowing. But Albus had twinkled and, like a well-trained little soldier, here he was.

Taking deep shuddering breaths he stepped into the basket as the sun rose and a small child stood where he had, looking confused. The elf helped the little boy to lie down; wielding magic to keep others from noticing the basket on the little cottage's front step as well as provide him with warmth and rocked him to sleep. It was only dawn, and he doubted the witch inside would be awake any time soon.

The little boy yawned and when his eyes started closing Dipsy's ears perked up. Master Potions Professor wasn't a bad man, and had always treated the elf well. The Painted Bearded Bastard, as Master Potions Professor requested he be referred to, had given him very clear directions. As a Hogwarts elf it was his pride and pleasure to be called into such service for the castle's occupants.

With a final glance the elf adjusted the envelope so it was clearly visible. He frowned, then snapped his fingers, modifying the handwriting on the parchment. If Miss Hermione Granger were as clever as the other elves said, she would recognise Master Potions Professor's hand – it was quite distinctive.

They waited on the step for hours, listening as the witch and her wizards woke, clamoured for potions and the lavatory and ate breakfast. Finally, she was alone. Dipsy knocked on the door and disappeared from sight.

The door creaked out and Hermione appeared, frowning into the bright winter sunlight. "Hello? Hello, I – oh!"

She blinked repeatedly at the sight of the child in a basket on her step, looking around wildly before stooping to pluck the letter from the boy's sleep-limp hand. The parchment rustled as she unfolded it.

Miss Granger -

I know what I am asking of you is more than a mere imposition; I am asking for you to care for a child whose origins you do not and may never know. I am asking you to blindly trust me, to do as I ask. If you cannot do this, then close your door and walk away now.

Well, that was curious, and she kept reading.

I have been cursed, and cannot care for this boy as I would wish to – I have longed for children, for love, for so long that it saddens me to do this when it was so close within my reach. If people knew who he was they will use him and harm him and I cannot allow that to happen again.

You are powerful, intelligent, a beacon of hope and goodness in our community. I admit, I have long-admired you and will be amenable to writing to you as I am able over the next year. If you have questions or concerns, merely leave a letter on your dining table and it shall find its way to me, I swear it.

I have but three requests: 1) do not try to discover who I am. 2) do not seek the identity of this boy. 3) do not gaze upon him in the night.

Also, it's more of an order – keep your dunderheaded friends from prying as well or all may be for naught.

I know you are a Gryffindor and suffer from insatiable curiosity, but I swear upon my wand that I mean this boy and yourself no harm, that I have not stolen him away from his parents in any way. Do not, Miss Granger, engage your stubborn little brain into solving a mystery that does not exist.

You may call him Valemon.

Care for him. Care for me. Please.

Yours.

Hermione frowned, turning the letter over, searching fruitlessly for clues. It was sincerely but oddly written. She knelt and pulled back the blanket to reveal the boy. He was young, maybe about four, not much older than Ginny's son, and her heart clenched.

"Hi, Valemon," she said softly, brushing her hand against the smoothness of his cheek. He stirred, dark lashes and hair against pale, pale skin. He was a beautiful boy – why leave him with her? Why not his mother or father? Hermione glanced around. No one was there and it tore at her heart. Hadn't they waited to see if she'd accept, if she'd bring him inside? What if she was heartless and hadn't taken him in.

"Alright," she murmured, rising and lifting the basket awkwardly. "Let's get you inside, sweetheart."

Getting the basket inside without waking him was a struggle, but he simply snuggled into the blankets once she set him down on the table. Bloody hell, she'd just acquired a child. Now what?

Hermione fidgeted a bit, cast a quick net around the table in case he rolled out, and ran to the Floo.

"Hello? Oh, hello, Molly, good morning, yes, I know it's early, I'm sorry – can you send the boys back over, please? No, no more pie, but thank you."

When Ron and Harry emerged rumpled and grumpy from the Floo, she gave them anxious grins. "Good morning, again...I actually need you to act like Aurors for a moment – Harry, you're wearing Ron's shirt again – and let me know if there are any little boys gone missing, around three or four years old? I don't want to know names or anything, just if they've gone missing."

They looked to each other, frowned and shook their heads. "None, 'Mione, why?"

"Oh, good, I was worried. He was left on my doorstep and I just... didn't want to accidentally have someone's kid, maybe Viktor's crappy idea of revenge."

"Merlin's beard," Ron breathed as they reached the table. "Hermione, you should report this."

"No," she told him firmly. "I'm not going to risk his safety for that; just... if you hear of a boy missing matching Valemon's – it's a name Harry, stop giggling – description, he's here and safe. Alright? I can protect him. No one's going to bother me here."

"Hardly anyone knows you live here," Harry muttered, looking over the letter and casting a few spells on it. "There's nothing here, it's totally clean. The kid could be from anywhere."

"Poor guy," Hermione said. "Someone left him out there, Harry! That's just cruel."

"I know." Ron made to grab the letter, but Harry shook his head, handing it back to Hermione. "We'll stay out of it, I promise, but if I hear of any missing kids matching Valemon's description, I'll check into it discreetly."

"Thanks, Harry." She gave him a relieved smile and looked down at Valemon. Strange name, but a lot of wizards had unusual names.

"So... you're just... going to take him?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised above his blue eyes.

Harry gave him an exasperated look. "It's 'Mione. Of course she is."

"'Mione, it's a kid! Not a house-elf!"

"So?" Alright, so it was a little reckless, but as long as he wasn't some kidnapped child dropped on her doorstep to hide him or incriminate her, she'd do what she could to help. Ron threw his hands up, but gave her that lopsided puppyish smile and shook his head so she knew he was teasing.

"Alright. Are we supposed to tell anyone he's here?"

"No," said Harry firmly. "The note sounds like someone may want to hurt the kid; if we don't say anything outside the three of us, it'll be alright. I'll keep my ears open, and neither of us, Ron, will go digging."

"Less work for me," the redhead confirmed cheerily, taking a closer look at the kid. "Should I tell Mum to send you over some food, you know, 'to help you with the breakup'? That way you'll have time to get used to having a kid around without needing to cook?"

"That'd be a nice idea." She hadn't even considered it, but Ron was right, that would make sense. She gave him a grateful look. "Can you come over later tonight? I want to pop over to the local library – Muggle library, Harry, don't give me that look – and get a few books on parenting if I'm going to taking care of him."

"Always with the books." Harry ran a hand through the mess of his hair, and kissed her cheek. "I'll be over for dinner, how's that?"

"Brilliant! We'll bring the food," Ron added. "Bye, 'Mione, I'm going back to bed."

"Me too," Harry interjected with a wink. She rolled her eyes and hugged them both.

"Oh, and 'Mione," Ron whispered. "Harry always looks good in my shirts."

"Out," she laughed, shoving him away. "Go away, you big overgrown children. Out."

The Floo flared as they made their exit and she shook her head, looking down at the sleeping Valemon. Would he be frightened, when he woke? What did he eat? Any allergies? Had he had his jabs? Did wizards have the equivalent, for that matter? Was he potty-trained?

"Bugger," she muttered, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "Alright, need to break that habit."

With a careful spell, she Levitated the basket and headed towards the guest bedroom. She'd have to transfigure some of the furnishings, but that was alright. What did four-year-olds sleep in? Beds? Cribs?

After some deliberation, she transfigured the bed into a lower, smaller one, with a railing that could be lowered or raised. Tricky wand work, but nothing she couldn't handle. The bureau she affixed to the wall, same with the bookshelf, and she sent the few texts there to the sitting room. She'd have to make room for them, but that was fine.

Gently, she lifted Valemon from the basket and put him on the bed, covering him with blankets. She was relieved to find that whoever had left him with her had left him with clothing. No emergency shopping trips was a good thing.

He looked so... fragile, sleeping. She wondered who he was, where his parents were, and how she could possibly care for him for a year. Hermione conjured a rocking chair and sat, twisting her hands in her t-shirt. Oh God, she'd more or less adopted a child. Now what?

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, worried. She always knew what to do! She was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, and she was at a loss.

She sat quietly, watching him sleep and making mental lists of things she would need to find out and things that she would need to get. Like books. The only children's book she had was Beedle the Bard. And toys. She'd need to get him some toys. Children liked toys, right?

There was a noise from the bed and she checked the clock – just past nine in the morning. Well, that was fine, it would give her time to herself in the mornings, at least for a few hours.

He sat bolt upright, eyes wild, and her heart melted. His black hair was mussed, and his eyes were black, too, and so expressive.

"It's okay," she said when his gaze landed on her. "It's okay; good morning, Valemon."

He clenched the sheet in his fists and curled up into himself.

"What do you remember? Anything?" He was silent, but she tried to keep her voice even. She didn't know how to talk to kids, other than like they were small adults. "It's okay to talk, I promise I won't hurt you – I'm supposed to take care of you, protect you. That's alright, right?"

His head bobbed, and she smiled. "My name is Hermione. And you're Valemon, right?" He hesitated, then nodded. "Would you like a tour? And some breakfast?"

He nodded again. "Yes, please."

She smiled widely. Such a cute and solemn little kid and surprisingly well-mannered. She rose slowly and held out her hand. He flinched at first, then hesitatingly left the bed and touched his fingertips to hers. When she kept waiting, he relaxed and took her hand. Poor little guy.

Matching her pace to his, she showed him around the small cottage, ending with the kitchen. He kept his pale hand firmly in hers, eyes darting about. What had happened to him that he was so distrustful? His eyes lit up at the sight of the books though, and she resolved to definitely check out some children's stories at the library.

He ate hungrily, like he was starved – and indeed he was very thin and nervous. When Crooks jumped onto the table to investigate him he nearly leapt out of his chair before realising it was a cat.

Hermione watched him through the afternoon, coaxing him into talking to her as much as a child could, trying to find out what he liked. He was fascinated by Crooks and the half-kneazle happily sat on the boy's lap, purring ecstatically. He liked flowers so she took him on a walk through the snow to her small greenhouse. He was quiet but was slowly started to relax around her. She found leftover toast in his pockets and that broke her heart – she'd seen Harry do the same after having had to stay with the Dursleys. Instead of saying anything, however, she left it alone, and decided to move some healthy snacks into his permanent reach until he learned there would always be food.

She'd need a job if she was going to care for him for a year. She could support herself with her savings for nearly two years, but a child? One she needed to protect? A job would definitely be in order but she'd wait until after a few months so that he would be used to being with her before she'd bring it up with him.

Valemon was shy, but when she sat on the couch and opened the copy of Beedle he seemed almost eager to clamber into her lap and they passed a very pleasant afternoon overall as it flurried, letting him explore the cottage and garden while their breath steamed in the winter air.

Finally, the Floo roared to life – he froze on the carpet as Ron and Harry tumbled out. But as soon as they straightened to their full heights he shrank back, screamed and scrambled away.

"It's okay!" Hermione called, giving the boys an exasperated look before chasing after him. "Valemon?"

She found him huddled under his bed – how he'd fit under there, she had no idea. Possibly childhood magic, recalling her own experiences.

"It's alright, Valemon, they're my friends, they brought dinner, it's okay." He pressed his lips together, shaking his head and trembling. "Oh sweetheart, I promise they won't hurt you. Would you rather eat dinner in here? That's okay, you know. It's okay. They're my very best friends, and they've always taken care of me – they brought dinner to welcome you here..."

Slowly he uncurled and she saw the imprint of his nails on his palms. Why was he so afraid? The poor boy... It took several minutes, but finally he wriggled out and she held him, stroking his fine hair and rocking him.

They travelled back to the living room together, Valemon securely in her arms. Ron and Harry were both seated, hands where they could see them – she supposed that the MLE taught things like that.

"Valemon, these are my friends," she said, shifting him to her hip. Merlin, he was heavy. "This is Ron, with the red hair, and Harry, with the glasses."

He buried his face in her neck until finally he peeked out. It was so cute she kissed the top of his head. "Time for dinner – Ron, you heat it up; Harry, will you set the table for four?"

"I, ah – may have ran off with some of Gin's kid's stuff," Ron said, lifting a bag. "Just a set of tableware, so you'll have to wash 'em a lot, but I don't think she'll miss them."

"Thank you," Hermione said, and was pleased when Valemon added his own soft word. Dinner was a hearty stew and there was definitely enough to provide dinner for a week. Harry left his seat slowly and knelt down to Valemon's height, crouching just out of arm's reach of him, keeping his hands still and his voice even, a pleasant smile on his face.

"I'm Harry," he told Valemon, glasses glinting in the light. "I met you this morning, but you were sleeping."

"Harry." Valemon repeated. There was a definite soft lisp on the 'r'. He took the spoon for his stew from Ron and watched both men warily. Hermione sat close to him, near enough that if he wanted he could reach out and touch her for reassurance.

"You're a cute kid, Val," Ron said, passing around a breadbasket. Val took two pieces, and Harry gave Hermione a sad look when he saw him pocket the second piece.

"Valemon," he said firmly, a sulky look on his young face. Dark brows furrowed together over his nose.

"Valemon, then." Ron was good-natured about the whole thing. "Well eat up, there's dessert – you were out of ice cream, 'Mione."

"I know," she muttered. "I ate it all crying over my ex."

"Mione sad?" Valemon gave her an anguished look.

"I was before you came," she said, touching his cheek gently. He looked at her searchingly and seemingly satisfied by what he saw, returned to his meal.

Dinner was quiet after that as they all got used to each other and Valemon definitely liked ice cream, if the miniature growling upon being denied seconds was any indication. Ron pulled a chess set out of somewhere and he played 'checkers' with the kid while Harry and she talked in hushed tones.

Finally, the sun began to lower and Valemon looked at her. "Bedtime. I have to go to bed now."

"Okay, kid," Ron said, and Valemon scowled, then scrambled to his feet, tugging on her sleeve urgently.

"Mione. Bed now."

"Yup." He hurried through night-time ablutions and stood on his bed, giving her a damp and minty kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Valemon, sleep sweet."

"Mione too."

She smiled and shut the door behind her with a click.

"Strange kid," Ron said, putting the chess set away. "But kinda cute."

"I liked the growling," Harry added lazily, lying on the rug and dropped his head into Ron's lap. "Are you going to check on him later?"

"No," she told him with a frown, waving her wand at the dishes.

"Good."

"Mate, I can't get up with you lying there."

"Yes, you can."

"Very funny, Harry."

"I'll leave a letter for whoever left him, though," she mused thoughtfully. "I don't know if he has any allergies and I still want to go to the library – Harry, can you keep Ron out of trouble?"

"Of course."

"Thanks." She flashed them both a grateful smile. "Don't wake him."

The trip to the library was fruitful, and she happily schlepped home a pile of books – some on parenting and child care, but most were children's books for Valemon. When the librarian raised her eyebrows at the books, Hermione smiled and told her all about how her best friend from school was coming over with her son and she had no idea what kids like or did – halfway through a flustered diatribe the librarian waved her to silence and Hermione masked a smile, happy to have avoided an unpleasant line of questioning or being added to the small town's gossip mill.

Harry and Ron were at the dining table playing chess when she returned. She winced as Ron's rook smashed one of Harry's bishops.

"I'm back you two, go home – Ron, stop toying with him and end it," she told them bossily. They grinned at her and Harry surrendered without complaint. She penned a quick note to her mysterious child-leaver while they tidied up their game.

After chasing them out and making them promise to go away for a few days, Hermione sent most of the books to the library and hefted some of the parenting texts to her room. She was pleasantly surprised to find a cup of tea on her bedside table under a stasis. How kind of them!

A few chapters in she yawned and stretched. God, today had been tiring, now that she thought about it. Really, she should go brush her teeth and just go to bed.


Tra la la~