Hi everybody! I began posting this fanfiction on my previous account, Repello Muggletum. For some reason, I have been unable to log into that account or recover its password since sometime last year. I hope my reposting it here doesn't annoy anyone too much! Anyway, even though I haven't worked on it in almost a year, I fully intend to finish this story sometime in the next three months.


We,
A Harry Potter FanFiction by Bebe Flow,
In which Severus Snape and Hermione Granger are brought together with the help of a few friends.
This story takes place in the aftermath of the war, in which Voldemort has been defeated. Some characters have been allowed to live; others have been left in their graves. Still others who had once lived have now been killed. That is why it is fiction. I hope you enjoy. Without further ado...


Chapter Four

Hermione and her parents had had a strained relationship since the end of the war. Really, if she thought about it, they were being perfectly fair. After being banished to Australia for three-fourths of the year, it was perfectly acceptable for them to be a little bit peeved, a tiny bit hurt. Hermione had explained everything to them, and for a while it all seemed okay.

The while being roughly three days, of course.

At first, Hermione had tried to soften the blow with long-winded explanations of her activities during their months abroad. They had already known about Voldemort's threat to the family before Hermione cast the memory charm on them last year. It had been after a quiet brunch in early August. Hugo Granger had just sat down in his comfortable chair and was fishing his favorite section out of yesterday's paper. Before she had time to think or say good-bye or give any warning, Hugo Granger became Norman Gingold. Much the same occurred when Hermione pointed her wand to her mother, whose back was turned and bent over a pile of dishes in the sink; Jane's new name was Rose Gingold. Australia beckoned. Face remarkably dry and eyes hardened in fierce determination, Hermione sent them on their way.

Tears came much later. When wet-faced accounts of how much she'd missed them failed, Hermione made jokes--or what she thought were jokes--about their extended vacation, how much more sunny and warm it was in Australia. Then Hugo and Jane gave their own teary-eyed accounts of their home there, all the people they'd met, their friends. Hermione forgot that while she'd been off throwing hexes at Death Eaters, her parents' lives hadn't stopped. She hadn't realized that the charm she'd used would allow her parents to remember their experiences while under its influence.

It was a big price to pay; her parents were miserable. They yearned for the wide-open, arid brush lands of the Australian Outback. "I wouldn't be offended, y'know… If you went back," Hermione said one morning after hearing about a famed day trip to Alice Springs.

The Granger parents looked at each other, looking decidedly less like adults with each passing moment. Grins broke on their faces, and Jane had to wipe away a tear.

Just as they'd gone before, they went again, as Norman and Rose Gingold. "It'd be confusing to our friends, don't you think?" said Hugo, or Norman, as he preferred.

With promises to write and visit, the Gingolds left their daughter in the house she'd grown up in, where she was to continue growing up. It wasn't much different than before, really, though Hermione did have to suppress the stinging ache of being left alone. She found it easier to be the one doing the leaving.

o

"What, you need to get back to Lav-Lav, Won-Won?" Harry mocked with a high-pitched giggle as his best friend stood to depart.

"Better company elsewhere, mate. I'd rather not be a witness to you snogging my sister's face off," Ron said wincing, a look of disgust crossing his features. Harry rolled his eyes while Ginny scoffed indignantly. "I'd get out as soon as you can, Herm."

With a smirk, Hermione wordlessly pointed her wand to his retreating bottom, which gave cause for a now very red-faced Ron to turn and glare at each of his friends in turn before huffily shutting the door behind him.

Ginny giggled. "Nice one Hermione. You staying for dinner?"

Shrugging, Hermione said, "No, I don't want to be a nuisance. It's been--"

"You know," Harry interrupted, "the real reason he left is because McGonagall's coming for a visit tonight. Hasn't been able to look her in the eye since that streaking incident with Seamus in third year…"

Ginny cringed. "Thanks for that." Then, to Hermione, "You sure? Mum made plenty."

"Thanks, but I've been meaning to get the house in order for a week now. I'll come around tomorrow, though, okay?"

As Hermione stood, Mrs. Weasley entered the room. She shuffled around a few knickknacks lining the bookshelves, peered into a potpourri dish and even swept the ceiling fan blades with a broom. Harry gave Ginny a questioning look, but said nothing. "Do you kids mind standing up for a second?" Mrs. Weasley said. She felt under each couch cushion to no avail. The furrow between her brows deepened.

"Are you missing something, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry said in a concerned voice.

Molly seemed to notice his presence in the room for the first time. Her face brightened. "Not at all, Harry. Are you staying for dinner?"

"If that's okay with you," he said.

Molly smiled. "Of course! The more the merrier. I expect you have some things you'd like to discuss with Minerva, anyway. How about you, Hermione?"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley. I should be getting home before it gets dark. Thanks, though." Hermione offered the woman a sympathetic smile and headed for the door just as a harried-looking Minerva McGonagall was about to knock on it.

"Goodness! Albus gets more and more restless every day!" The professor's hair was out of its normal tight bun. Instead, it fell in thin, wispy strands over her shoulders. No wonder she's always got it up, Hermione thought. "I can't wait until school is back in session," said Minerva. "All week he's been pestering me with his silly speech, asking about long pauses and contractions and whatever else; it's maddening!"

"It's been too long, Minerva. Nice to see you," Molly said. The women, actually distant cousins, hugged, each happy to see the other. "I wish Arthur were here; he'll be with Bill for another two days."

"I'm sure I'll be able to catch up with him on Saturday," the professor replied. Then she turned to Hermione. "It's good to see you too, Miss Granger. Will I have the pleasure of your company this evening?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to go without me for a few days as well, Professor," Hermione said with a smile. McGonagall had always been her favorite professor.

Nodding, McGonagall said, "Please, it's Minerva. We've been through too much together to be so formal."

"Minerva, then… Please call me Hermione," Hermione said with another smile, throwing her cloak over her shoulders and making for the door. "I'll see you all on Saturday."

As she closed the door, Hermione could have sworn she heard someone murmur, "If Snape will share you…" but did not care to venture back in to confront her slanderer. Red-cheeked and a tinge embarrassed, she Apparated back to her empty house.

o

By the time August 29 rolled around, Hermione hadn't had much contact with the outside world. The house had been a mess since before her parents had left. They were not nearly as tidy as they had been before their time in Australia, and Hermione had been spending a lot of time at the Burrow in the past few weeks. She'd used the past few days to her advantage, dusting, scrubbing, and rearranging furniture.

The pantry had been especially horrifying; the few potatoes that remained resembled mandrakes, and there was a powdery grey substance all over the floor in one corner. It took a while for Hermione to get it clean, especially since she didn't know a great deal of cleaning spells. She resolved to ask Mrs. Weasley as soon as she had a chance.

The furniture placement remained much the same, except for a few things switched between rooms. Hermione thought her mother had good taste and didn't feel the need to change much. The only major change was Hermione's move to her parents' much larger former bedroom. It was much more spacious, with a wardrobe double the size of her old one. She'd acquired a lot of new clothes lately with the money her parents had left her, so the move was very practical.

Ginny came over around four o' clock to help her get ready; Hermione had made plans to Apparate to Spinner's End so she and Snape could arrive together. She felt it would be better to be early; Snape was one to appreciate, even command, punctuality.

"You look beautiful," Hermione's best friend said, affecting an accent that shamelessly mocked that of Fleur Weasley. She fluffed her friend's hair again, admiring its newfound shininess. She'd discovered a few useful spells in Teen Witch Weekly recently, one being incredibly useful for shining silverware and hair alike. There was another "bust accentuating" charm, but that was where Hermione drew the line.

"I really appreciate this, Gin. I've been anxious all week." She smoothed her royal blue robes, feeling a surge of confidence that she rarely possessed in regards to her appearance.

"Well really, what do you expect, you dolt? Tonight's a big deal." Ginny's hair was perfectly straight, parted slightly to the side and looking stunning. She wore dark green robes that were little out of season, but still flattered her. "Anyway, I should go. See you there! Don't trip and fall or anything, alright?" Ginny departed through the fireplace.

Hermione laughed. She knows me too well. Then, looking at the time, she realized it was time for her to leave as well.

o

Spinner's End was much like it had been the first time Hermione visited, except in the dusk much busier. Especially unnerving was a group of teenage boys who grinned at her as she passed by. One of them repeatedly slapped a large stick against his palm, as if to remind her of just whose territory she was in. Hermione met the boy's eyes as she passed, and the group's brusque teenage cockiness fell away when they saw her turn onto Snape's walkway.

With a little glance out of her peripheral vision, Hermione saw the boys look at each other in almost startled confusion. She was reminded of Snape's dark, dangerous persona; the boys likely had cause to look to his house with fear in their eyes. Hermione was beginning to wonder if perhaps she should be a little afraid herself. Nonetheless, she grasped the seldom-used door-knocker and tapped once again at Severus Snape's door.

This time--Hermione thanked her lucky stars--Snape had been prepared for her visit; he was neatly dressed, and to Hermione's amusement, wearing shoes. With an unenthusiastic flourish, Snape invited Hermione into his home. "Thank you," said Hermione. "I know I'm a bit early, but--"

"Spare the explanation, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted with a sneer. "I was in the middle of some very important research. You may wait here while I finish it; then we will leave." Snape retreated through a door Hermione hadn't noticed on her first visit.

She was rather put off by the man's rude behavior, but chose not to argue. Instead, she took a seat. The room had been cleaned up since she'd last been in it; it certainly lacked the character she expected a room belonging to Severus Snape to have. Much like the kitchen, this room was simply plain. Hermione had always taken her former professor as a no-nonsense sort of fellow, but a home completely devoid of personal possessions… Well, it simply wasn't a home.

Ten minutes later Snape emerged from the mysterious room and silently waved his wand a few times, presumably to set the wards. "We'll have to hurry, or we'll be late," Hermione said. She was never one to purposely arrive late for the sake of dramatics.

"Perhaps you should have considered that before choosing your escort, Miss Granger," was the man's terse reply. He threw a cloak over his shoulders, hiding his wand somewhere within its voluminous folds.

Two light pink spots appeared like unwanted roses on Hermione's cheeks, but still she did not succumb to an angry outburst. Nodding, she said, "Alright, then… On another note, I think it is proper for an escort to refer to his date by her first name."

"Very well…" Snape started slowly, his trademark grimace in place. He paused as though he couldn't be troubled to remember her name.

"Hermione," she said. She felt foolish enough as it was and was quickly becoming fed up with the man's games.

"…Hermione," he finished. Then, as if completely forgetting his rude demeanor, he hesitantly offered his own name as well. "I suppose, then, that it would be proper…for me to extend the same courtesy."

Giving a small smile, Hermione said, "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, Severus, can we go?" The man nodded. They Apparated to a secluded street a few blocks from the Ministry of Magic.

"By the way," Hermione said with a slight blush. "You look nice tonight. New robes…?"

"No, Mis--Hermione, I didn't feel the need to purchase new robes for such a pointless Ministry photo op."

"Being recognized for your efforts in the war is pointless? You should be proud… But anyway, I do recall seeing you leave Madam Malkin's with a parcel."

"I can assure you that was no parcel of mine," he said in a bored tone.

Hermione was still suspicious. "Whose was it, then?"

"That is none of your business--"

"Ha! Too proud to admit defeat?" Hermione interrupted.

"--but if you must know, I was picking up some of Minerva's…" he paused, as if trying to find the words, "…delicates."

Hermione immediately felt embarrassed and immature for pestering Snape about something so insignificant as his attire. There really was no way to tell whether his robes were new or old; the man wore practically the same thing everywhere. But Hermione was certain he wouldn't make up such an excuse, nor would he have told her had she not forced him to. The pair then walked along in silence, from the light pole under which they'd had their discussion to the elevator transporting them to the Ministry's second floor. They encountered no one.

In the uncomfortable quiet of the elevator, Hermione took a glance at her watch. "We're late!" she said loudly. "This is your fault! Important experiment, my ar--"

"If you hadn't stopped to harass me about--"

The elevator dinged open. "Hermione!" said a voice from the crowd gathered in the Ministry Ballroom. It was Cho Chang waving with one arm around a young man Hermione didn't know, who gave her a small smile. They were waiting to be seated. It appeared that Severus and Hermione were right on time.

"Late indeed," Snape muttered so only Hermione could hear. She glared, but faced her friends with a smile. The pair was seated at a table close to the stage with Alastor Moody, Circe Philmore, and their respective dates.

When they sat, Moody nodded to Hermione, but met Snape's eyes. "Doin' a little charity work, are we, Miss Granger?"

Snape did not give Hermione the chance to respond. "I could be asking the same thing of your…companion," he said with utmost derision. Moody's date was Beatrice Brigaud, a woman whose allegiance depended on the time of day one asked her. She was often spotted skirting the edges of Death Eater revels and Order morale boosters alike. Both sides tolerated her, but neither accepted her.

"Now listen here, Snape, don't think ya can sit there an' insult my fiancée. Ya think yer a big shot now that Albus saved ya from the Dementors, but we all know better. Yer nothin' but a lowlife, good-for-nothin'--"

"That's enough. We're here to celebrate, Moody, not attack people," interjected Circe Philmore, ever the voice of reason. She was a matronly, middle-aged woman who knew a thing or two about mediating arguments. "If you can't be civil, ignore each other."

Snape at first appeared unperturbed by Moody's comments, but Hermione briefly caught his eye and found hurt in them. That is, before he pushed it back and the look of cold indifference returned. Then, Delphius Hattlebotham introduced Dumbledore, who approached the podium. Then the room was silent.

o

Normally when Albus Dumbledore spoke, Hermione would hang on to his every word. Now, however, her attention was on the scene she'd just witnessed. She heard only bits and pieces of Dumbledore's speech.

"--here to celebrate, but also to remember--" came Dumbledore's voice dreamily, in one ear and out the other.

Good-for-nothing? Hermione thought. Lowlife? What on earth was Moody on about?

"--should we allow such intolerance--"

Hermione sported a dazed, zombie-like look on her face. I can't believe Snape didn't interrupt or say anything. There must be something wrong with him.

"--that should not be taken for granted--"

I didn't go out of my way to defend him, Hermione thought, but he didn't exactly leap to my protection either…

"--honor those who embody these ideals--"

Or maybe he did?

"--difficult, with their example, for future generations to succumb--"

His own indirect form of protection, perhaps? Moody would have turned on me if I'd disagreed with his opinion…Maybe Severus intentionally cut me out of the conversation to save me from getting on Moody's bad side, Hermione reasoned. He'd certainly know what it was like…

"--let us commence," Dumbledore said in a voice that thankfully awakened Hermione from her reverie. She knew she would be among the first awardees called and did not care to embarrass herself.

Dumbledore began reading the names of the Order of Merlin recipients. They were to go to the stage, shake a few hands and accept the award. Kind of like graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione thought with a note of sadness. She would not be participating in that sort of graduation, at least not from Hogwarts.

"To Sirius Black, on behalf of the Internation Wizard's Council for the Recognition of Honors and the Ministry of Magic, I present the Order of Merlin, second class, for his outstanding resilience, charity and bravery."

The crowd politely clapped (a few at the side of the room hooted; Hermione thought it sounded like Harry) and the press snapped pictures, Sirius looking half sheepish, half smug.

"To Dedalus Diggle, the Order of Merlin, third class for his groundbreaking work in accurately decoding hieroglyphics essential to our cause."

Dumbledore's extra comments seemed charmingly spontaneous, though the man surely had them planned since before the war was even over. He was always thinking of things like that.

"Hermione Granger is presented the Order of Merlin, third class for her indispensable assistance to all involved, as well as her sharp intelligence and level-headedness in all situations." Dumbledore looked at her warmly, and she was touched at the sincerity with which he said his words. She took the fancy box holding her Order of Merlin and returned to her seat with a smile, tears in her eyes.

All of this went on a while longer; names announced, obligatory clapping, all amidst constant photo flashes. To Hermione it seemed very much like a movie. It felt good to be recognized; she'd worked hard in the past year and was glad to be remembered as something more than runner-up sidekick to The Boy Who Lived.

Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. What if no one claps for Severus? What if I'm the only one? He'd take it as pity, or sarcastic, and he'd likely not speak to me for the rest of the night… Or ever.

As Dumbledore went down his list, Hermione became more and more antsy. Somehow, she would be embarrassed--no, angered--if Snape wasn't paid his proper respect. She tried to reason that it was Dumbledore doing the awarding, but what, somehow, his presence no longer had any influence?

Harry's name caused loud applause. He'd only been awarded an Order of Merlin, third class, which was sure to cause a lot of stir in the newspapers, but Hermione secretly agreed that third class was what he deserved. All he did was survive the birth canal, after all, she silently jeered.

"--and his willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of an unknown future," Dumbledore said as Harry accepted his Order of Merlin.

Sheridan Rogers was next, and Hermione knew Snape's time was drawing near. She resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. Then, finally:

"To Severus Snape, an Order of Merlin, first class. Had he not traversed through the darkness, none of us would have been delivered into the light."

Hermione's worries were unfounded. A gentle applause sounded as Snape rose. With his head angled slightly down, he made for the stage, fine wisps of hair partially shielding his face. Hermione noted that while Sirius had appeared sheepish, Snape looked downright bashful. She wondered how he could go from unapproachable and brooding one minute to completely humble and shy the next. The man is an enigma, she thought.

Snape stuck out his hand to shake Dumbledore's, as had been the norm for the entire evening. The older man took it, but instead of letting go, he pulled Snape into a big, friendly--almost fatherly--hug. Snape seemed to hesitate, but did manage to place a pat or two on Dumbledore's back. Hermione thought she saw Dumbledore whisper something into Snape's ear, but the moment went by too fast, and there were too many spots in front of her eyes from the flashing cameras. She couldn't be sure.

The photographers ate this moment up. Rita Skeeter's quill was moving a mile a minute, and the clapping got a little louder. Hermione noticed that many of the clappers had eyes lacking mirth or enthusiasm; they seemed to clap out of a sense of duty to the Ministry--or to Dumbledore--but certainly not to Snape. No wonder he looked so uncomfortable.

Eyes averted, seeming slightly shaken and rather embarrassed, Severus Snape seated himself again. Hermione noticed Minerva glance over, a little misty-eyed, but she was more concerned with Moody, who was muttering under his breath and appeared altogether agitated. The procession continued, down to the last Weasley, with a silent moment at the end to honor the losses. After the closing remarks, the real party began.

Except, for Hermione, it didn't.

o

Ginny approached Hermione almost immediately. Her face was twisted with worry; she looked like she might erupt into tears at any time. "Professor Snape, may I speak with Hermione for a moment?" she said in a voice indicating that she would not wait for his approval.

"As you wish," said the professor in a voice indicating that he didn't care one way or the other. Fully recovered, aren't we? Hermione thought with an eye roll. She and Ginny retreated to a corner of the spacious room; in their haste, they knocked into more than a few dancers and minglers.

"What's wrong, Gin?" Hermione said with concern. Ginny was looking more upset by the moment.

"I thought everything was fine, you know, that my dad just got caught up with Bill and Fleur, that something just came up…" the girl said. "But Mum was looking worried; there was no owl. Did you notice anything strange about her when she went up? I wasn't as close to the stage…"

Hermione felt guilty for her inattention during the ceremony. "I don't know, Ginny… They're not here? Maybe there'll be an owl when you get home, or something… I'm sure it's all okay."

"No… No, Hermione. We laughed when she was going on about her ring, but gods… Trelawney was right again. Why didn't we do something?" The tears were freely flowing now; Hermione dug in her pockets for a handkerchief but found none.

"Don't blame yourself, Ginny. Everything will be alright," Hermione soothed. "Just remember, you've been through worse before… We all have."

"No! I may have lost my father, Hermione. Can't you see?" Ginny lashed out, pulling away from her best friend. "I don't care about what everyone else has been through; this is me!"

"That's not what I meant, Ginny… Listen, we're all on the same side now, right? No more Death Eaters. I'm sure he's fine…"

"Don't be so naïve, Hermione! Merlin, no more Death Eaters? What about Snape? Lucius Malfoy? Draco, for god's sake!"

Hermione had never taken well to be shouted at. Her morale crumpled, a part of her willingness to show sympathy gone. "Well excuse me for trying to be the voice of reason, Ginny. Gods, it's like you're trying to be upset! Get ahold of yourself!"

Ginny shook her head in devastated outrage. Her lip quivered, and her voice shook as she said, "I never thought I'd see the day you turned into such a bad friend, Hermione… It seems you really have chosen Snape's side over ours."

"What? So you lied to me? You said you had no problem with it! I never thought I would see the day my best friend lied to me over something so silly!"

"Well this silliness may have cost my father his life! Merlin, Hermione, you always have to turn--"

"Ginny…" a voice interjected, but neither girl had heard him. The volume of the argument was quite elevated.

"--everything into--"

"Ginny," the voice said again, this time a bit louder.

"--something about--"

"GINNY!" the voice cut through the "you" that had formed in Ginny's mouth. Both girls looked at the owner of the voice, indignant at being interrupted. It was Ron Weasley, looking almost guilty for disrupting their argument. He jerked his head in the direction of the door. "Mum wants to go now, Gin. C'mon." He looked at Hermione in confusion, but did not ask any questions. Surely he had other things on his mind.

After a polite nod from Ron and a furious glance from Ginny, Hermione was alone in the corner. A few of the people closest to her had been able to hear the exchange, and they looked at her like they would a particularly gruesome potions mishap or transfiguration accident. Hermione wished they wouldn't; she was fighting back tears. It wasn't often she and Ginny fought, and it upset her. She felt immensely guilty, even though intellectually she knew it wasn't entirely her fault.

o

"Severus," Hermione said to the man, who was sitting at a table with Minerva and Dumbledore. He looked over carelessly, but his curiosity was revealed in his quirking brow. "I have to go."

"Hermione, are you alright?" interjected Minerva with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine. Something just came up."

"Would you like me to take you home?" spoke up Severus.

A surprising offer, but Hermione needed to be alone. "Thank you, but no. Goodnight, everyone."

Hermione left them all behind and made her way to the door, refusing to cry until she was safely in the darkness. She had no option but to go home, since she knew the night would be no fun in current circumstances. The only acceptable thing to do, in Hermione's mind, was to think--and most likely cry--within a tight blanket cocoon on her otherwise empty bed.

By eleven o' clock the tears had nearly subsided. By midnight Hermione lapsed into fierce, chest-heaving anger at having her friend lash out at her in such a way. By morning she had worked herself sick with worry at the prospect of losing the man who'd been a second father to her since she'd met him. Throughout the torrent of emotions, Hermione's one constant thought was that she could do nothing about it.