Hermione woke the next morning with the sun streaking across her bed. Still in her trousers and bra, she was nestled under the duvet. When she rolled over to the empty side of the bed, she felt parchment under her cheek. She opened the note

We'll find a way

-S

She thought about the evening before, about what almost was and it made her both happy and sad. Those moments were so tender and she felt so desired. But it was unfinished and she could only speculate on what could have been. Hermione tucked the note in her bedside table and drew herself out of bed. The day would have to begin regardless.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Hermione expected that seeing Severus in the Great Hall would be awkward at the least but she was greeted the same as any other day by him. With breakfast appearing, owls began to swoop through dropping their parcels to their owners. Unexpectedly, a letter arrived for Hermione and she opened it with curiosity.

"Is everything ok?" Severus asked her, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

"Mm, I think so. Harry wants me to meet him today for lunch. Says it's important," she said. "I'll need to find Flitsy to see if she can take care of Emmy."

"I can stay with her," he offered.

Hermione looked at him. "You're offering to babysit my daughter?" she asked with a half smile. "Do you know how much I could sell this story to the Prophet for?" she asked playfully.

"I can only imagine," he said with a smile, "really, Alexander will come in this afternoon for potions and she can stay with us. I'm sure I can find something to occupy her."

"Alright then, if you're sure. If she gets to be too much trouble, just call for Flitsy and she'll stay with her," Hermione told him.

"Don't worry, we'll get on I'm sure," he said returning to his breakfast.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When Hermione spotted Harry in the café, she waved and smiled to him but he struggled to return the same enthusiasm. She had known Harry long enough to know that he was anxious and embarrassed about something and she was curious to know what had him so flustered. Hermione removed her robes and scarf, draping them over her chair before sitting down.

"I ordered you a drink," he said.

"I see," she told him, "what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, faking surprise, "just thought maybe-"

"Harry Potter, we have known each other for more years than I care to admit. Are Ginny and the children ok?" she asked.

"Oh yes! They're fine," he said.

"Work?" she questioned.

"Good, busy," he said.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"I," he started, "I don't know how to start."

"This should be interesting," she reassured him, sitting back in her chair.

"It's about Ron," he said, "I have a mate over in international affairs and he's heard some things."

"What things?" Hermione inquired.

"There's a rumor going round, I just can't believe it, but there's this rumor that he's been…that is to say there's a…"

"The Russian woman?" Hermione asked him.

"What?" Harry asked surprised.

"I don't remember her name. The Russian woman that was living with him in Bulgaria. Or maybe it was the Romanian woman. Or the Swedish woman. Wait, I think the order is wrong – first it was the Romanian then the Swede then the Russian. Ah, well, whatever order it was," she said nonchalantly.

"Wait, you know about this?" he said.

"Certainly," she told him, "you're not the only one with international connections you know."

"I guess I didn't think about that," he said shocked. "But it's an Egyptian woman."

"Egyptian?" Hermione said, "I guess he ran out of women on the continent."

Harry seemed a little lost. He had prepared how to break the news to her but this had completely thrown him off.

"Well, this particular Egyptian woman was very well-connected and there's some legal messiness. She's saying that he hit her. I mean, that just doesn't seem like Ron."

Hermione took a drink from her beverage and placed it back on the table in silence. Harry took that silence as a confirmation of sorts.

"Hermione, does that mean… has Ron ever…" he started.

"Harry," she said, looking at him directly, "do not ask questions that you do not want the answers to."

He nodded at her in shock. "How long has he been, messing about?" he asked.

"Since I was pregnant with Alexander," she told him.

Poor Harry was completely overwhelmed by everything transpiring. "That's horrible," he told her, disgusted by this revelation.

"I just can't believe this. He's a quidditch star, why didn't the Prophet get hold of these stories?" he asked.

"He pays them off," she told him.

"Seriously?" he said "I feel so naïve. I thought that… I don't know what I thought."

"You thought that I would be devastated to hear my husband was unfaithful. A decade ago it bothered me, now it doesn't seem to matter anymore."

"I should talk to him. This can't go on. That's what I'll do," Harry said.

Hermione reached across the table and took his hand. "No, don't make things worse for me or the children. Just leave it be. If we leave him alone, he'll likely leave us alone."

Harry looked like he wanted to cry. "But they're his children. You're his wife. How could someone do that?" he asked genuinely.

"Everything changed in the forest Harry. I tried telling you that loads of times but you didn't want to listen," she said.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Hermione. If I had known, I would have done something. What can I do?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "You've already told Ginny I assume?"

"Yes. She's appalled and made unpleasant threats to his bits," he told her.

"I want her help," Hermione said.

He blanched a little. "Not like that Harry. She's a barrister isn't she?"

"Well, yes."

"I want out of my marriage and I want to keep my children. Plain and simple. Will you talk to her?"

"Of course," he said.

"Hermione," he started, "are you safe? Are Zander and Emmy safe?"

"Don't worry, Harry," she told him with a smile, "Dumbledore always said there was no place safer than Hogwarts."

With a smile they ate their lunch and then made their goodbyes.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

While Hermione lunched with Harry, Alexander and Emiline Weasley found themselves in the cold dungeons at Hogwarts. Emiline had brought her colouring book and crayons and busied herself on the floor while Alexander worked on his lesson.

"Professor Snape," Alexander said.

"Yes, Weasley, what is it?" he said gruffly.

"Feel this," the boy told him.

Snape was curious. There were phrases he expected to hear in potions labs, "smell this," "taste this," or "look at this" but never "feel this." He saw the boy working on the potion with his hands held near the rising steam of the cauldron.

Alexander was smiling broadly. "I'm going to add just a little more of this right here. Now, when you put your hands out, don't you feel that?"

Snape had no idea what he was talking about.

"There's a different vibration here," Alexander explained, "I started feeling it when I added the last ingredient but I thought I could make the potion last longer by adding more essence of yarrow. As I added it, the vibration got stronger and stronger."

"Weasley, do you mean to tell me that you can feel your potion brewing?" he asked seriously.

"Well yes, I can always feel them," he said, "doesn't everyone?"

"No, not at all. There are very few potions masters in the world who have kinesthetic sensory perception for potioneering. It is a remarkable and rare gift," he told him.

Alexander thought for a minute, "do you think that's why I can also feel other people's feelings?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked.

"Well, I can feel things sometimes. Like, when my Mum hugs Emiline, I can feel a tingling in my chest. Or when you talk about potions in class, I can feel… how to describe it, it feels like my brain is tickled."

Snape just looked at him.

"That's stupid isn't it?" Alexander asked.

"No, that is not stupid. I just don't know what to tell you. Have you always been able to feel these things?"

"Yes," he said, "But as I've gotten older it's changed. And sometimes it's overwhelming. When some of the fifth years boys are around the girls, it makes me feel like I'm going to explode."

"Alexander," Snape said looking at him seriously, "I think you're an empath."

"An empath?" Alexander repeated. "Is that bad?" he worried.

"There aren't many empaths in the world. It's genetically linked and can be a wonderful gift if you learn to manage it. It has made some wizards mad who were not able to control it," he told the young man.

Alexander paled. "I'm going to go mad?"

"No. I don't think so. You are very disciplined and you have good focus. I think we're going to need to find someone to help you as you nurture this gift. I'll speak to Professor McGonagall about it," he told him.

Snape could tell he was worried, his mind racing in a dozen directions. He placed a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "Alexander, try not to worry," he told him sincerely, "I'll help you. I promise."

Alexander nodded before continuing his potion work.