-1Having seen a picture of the front door of the Granger's household, Sage was able to apparate to their front lawn. Apprehensive would have been an understatement if you were to describe him that way.

Nervously, he smoothed down his blue shirt and played with the knot of his black tie. He had prepared himself for this, really he had, and he was from a good, proper family. He shouldn't be nervous about what they'd think of him as he was perfectly prepared to be very respectful, but he was a bit out of sorts over the entire thing.

Drawing a deep breath, he pushed a stray wisp of hair behind his ear and then pulled on the knot to tighten the hold on his hair. Putting one foot resolutely in front of the other, he made his way to the front door and rang the doorbell.

He heard rapid footsteps inside and then the door swung open to reveal Hermione's smiling face, she looked exuberant as usual, curls framing her beaming face.

"Hullo there stranger," he said with a smile.

Just behind her he could see a woman walking towards the door.

Hermione was already holding the door open for him so he stepped in and wiped his shoes on the mat, which is what he assumed it was there for.

Mrs. Granger beamed at him as she came to stop next to Hermione, "And you must be Sage," she said congenially.

"Yes, ma'am, very nice to meet you Mrs. Granger," he replied pressing her hand warmly.

His heart sped up a few notches when he heard other footsteps coming down the stairs that he could not yet see.

"Well, dear, come on in, let me take your jacket."

Trying to keep his composure, Sage handed her his light black jacket and followed Hermione into what proved to be the sitting room. It was furnished with cushy tan couches surrounding a fireplace with a television mounted above it.

"Come and meet my dad," she said, leading him towards the landing of the staircase.

Mr. Granger was an average looking man with short, graying hair and closely trimmed beard. Of course, with very white teeth.

When he came to the bottom of the stairs, he smiled warmly and held out his hand.

"Scott Granger."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," he responded, "I'm Sage Snape."

The moment he touched Mr. Granger's hand, his eyes narrowed just the slightest. Now it was quite clear, he had shook it off when he felt it in Hermione's mother, but not that he felt it even more clearly in her father, he was perplexed.

Magic.

He felt Magic in them, and not just latent Magic or squid Magic, it was Magic like any normal wizard or witch.

"Well, well, nice to finally meet you as well," the man said, letting go and cutting off Sage's thoughts, "Hermione has told us loads about you. I hear that you are the nephew of one of the Professors at her school."

"Yes, sir, my Uncle is the potions Master."

Sage knew better than to say anything, but he was sure he wasn't mistaken.

"I understand he's rather a surly, stoical sort of fellow," the man said, gesturing for them to have a seat on the couch. "I believe Emily's gone to get some tea and biscuits."

Giving Hermione a look with a quirky smile, Sage sat down and leaned slightly against the arm rest of the couch.

"Yes, sir, a bit. Very high expectations and an unwillingness to deal with excuses or failure."

"Indeed," the man answered thoughtfully.

Hermione cut in, "Professor Snape was actually quite pleasant during my trip though, he a bit less rigid when he's away from the school, I think."

Tapping his hand idly on the armrest, Sage responded, "Hermione's quite right, he is very different outside of the school. For very good reasons."

"Hmmm, still gave you top notch marks, dear, so I suppose he has some sense."

"Oh dad!" She exclaimed, redness raising to her cheeks.

Hermione's mother returned at this moment to ease the embarrassment of the situation, placing a tray of biscuits on the table and tea service as well. As she methodically poured them cups and prepared them to each other their liking, Sage studied her movements.

It did not appear that she was unused to doing things the Muggle way, which would have given him more of a clue as to why he felt magic, even though he had no idea why they would want to hide that from Hermione. However, her movements were fluid and simple, not like something she had be used to doing with a wand.

It was a distinct curiosity that he'd have to reflect upon later.

"I did not ask where you luggage was, Sage," she said.

Smiling, he answered, "It's shrunk up and in my pocket."

"Oh, yes, I do remember Hermione doing those things. I should have thought about that…What do you take in your tea, dear?"

"Just cream, please."

Hermione reached over to take his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Mr. Granger watched him with keen blue eyes over his teacup, which Sage did not fail to notice. It was not a bad look, but it was an appraising look. Not curiosity, but appraisal, and those two were distinctly different.

"What sort of marks do you get, Sage?" Mr. Granger asked as if it were the most normal question in the world.

Hermione gasped and said, "Dad!" again, almost getting a whining tone to her voice with a pleading look.

"It's alright, Hermione," he said, waving it off, he was not affronted. "I usually get top marks, but this year has been difficult. I'm a different sort of wizard, I don't know if Hermione's told you, and my Magic can make me sick, which has happened a lot this year. I will do better next year or my Uncle will have my head."

Now that was honesty, but he wasn't afraid of being honest with her parents.

They finished tea speaking of more general things, for which Sage was quite grateful.

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After turning around in his bed for the twentieth time, Sage sat up and looked at the wall. It didn't seem he was going to be able to fall asleep, no matter how much he tried to focus and clear his mind.

Using a hand gesture to create some light, he looked at his watch, it was 1am. With a sigh, he got up and went to the door.

As he opened it, he listened for any sounds of wakefulness from the house. Finding none, he walked down the stairs as quietly as possible in his black lounge pants and green long-sleeved shirt. His hair was hanging down over his shoulders, as he didn't leave it tied when he slept.

Another gesture lit the hearth and he sat on the floor cross-legged in front of the sofa. Staring at the fire as it began burning away, he cleared his mind, breathing in the smell of wood and exhaling out his thoughts. His blue eyes became fixed onto the tendrils of flame, not blinking, not moving.

His fingertips, which had been pressed together in the druid circle, started to fade to his awareness. Pushing further into his own mind, the rise and fall of his chest followed, slowly leaking out of his consciousness.

He entered into the grass fields once more, his body sitting on the soft greenery. Closing his eyes to the calming, empty world of rolling fields, he attempted to take a nap and rest his body.

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Scott Granger had heard the sound of soft footfalls and knew that Hermione would not have hit those spots where the stairs were squeaky. Slowly, soundlessly, he made his way down the stairs and into the living room.

His daughters boyfriend was sitting on the floor, which he marked as strange being that the cough would have been more comfortable. The young man did not seem to be aware of his presence at all, which Scott also found strange given that the boy had clearly been able to feel him before.

Moving around to the loveseat, Scott looked down at Sage and his head pulled back slightly in surprise, although no sound came out of his mouth.

His eyes were glowing in the firelight, most unnaturally, and he did not believe it to be an illusion of the flames casting light around. He cleared his throat.

There was no response. Sage just kept staring at the fire.

"Sage," he finally said, leaning down closer to get a better look at the boy's face.

Sage's head snapped to the side to look at him, almost as if he had just become aware of what was going on around him. The strange glowing ceased immediately and Sage shook his head as if coming out of some strange sort of a dream.

"Sorry, sir, I was meditating, I hope you don't mind. I could not sleep. I often do not sleep."

Scott tilted his head to the side and said, "That's alright, I didn't mean to startle you. I could not much sleep either."

Silence ruled the room for a few moments as the both looked at the fire absently. Finally Scott decided that he had to speak up or he would not find sleep this entire visit.

"I know you could feel it."

The young man looked at him, a slight frown on his face, before he nodded affirmatively, "I did not wish to ask about it…"

Scott shook his head as if to say that he would rather it that way.

"This has never happened before, you see," he said," I admit, I must have underestimated you, even though Hermione told us you were a Magi. I had quite a hard time believing such a story, even given that I, too, am not what I seem, and I know what a Magi is as clearly as my daughter and my wife.."

"You are not a Muggle then," the boy stated obviously.

"You sensed my magic, you know I could not be, but it is what I must as of you now which is difficult. Surely you must have thought it strange for Hermione to be so powerful and be a Muggleborn?"

Sage shrugged, "I am not biased in such a way like most purebloods, sir."

It was Scott's turn to raise an eyebrow incredulously, "Even with that Mark on your arm, you understand I know what that is as well."

"Even so, sir," Sage said, looking down at the sleeves which he had rolled up. "It happened when I was an infant, not unlike Harry Potter getting his mark, even though I admit I know they are different, but the circumstances of them being unwelcome is the same," he commented.

"Back to what I must ask of you…You must wonder why Hermione thinks she is a Muggleborn?"

"Now, I do, sir."

Scott paced a few steps and then say down on the love seat, spreading his arms out on the back of it.

"During the first war, certain families that were targets went into hiding. Knowing that the threat might not be entirely gone, we remained, which was fortuitous. We seek to remain so. We would be as highly sought after as Sirius Black and the Prewitts by Voldemort and his rabble. I must ask you to keep this secret from Hermione, for her safety."

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Sage listened, trying not the let his judgment show on his face. He did not think it was fair for them to keep something like this from Hermione, and he also found it quite cowardly for them to hide like this.

Now they wanted him to be part and party to the deception, all because he was a Magi and he was the unfortunate one who could tell the difference.

To be continued…