AN: Hello, my name is Aurette, and I love a plot twist...

Also, as of this chapter, my story now has over 7,000 readers all over the world. This utterly destroys any previous record for my works and I am speachless, humbled, and tickled pink. Thank you. Sincerely.

Mrs. Phillip Perthwit, Otterly St. Catchpole, Devon

Dearest Aunt Alice,

I hope this letter finds you well and as deeply involved in your interests as ever. I am home, as you must know, and I find myself at a loose end. The end of my school year was most strange, as I hinted at in my last letter. I apologize again, for that worrying delay in correspondence. I truly was indisposed for those six weeks.

My parents are in excellent health, as is everyone else in the household.

Father is well-pleased with his apprentice, a young man by the name of Christian Townes. He seems very amiable, although I must confess, it is very strange to have him at table so much and treated as one of the family. It is as if I sprouted a brother and no one bothered to tell me. Father is always closeted with him in his office discussing journals and such.

I'm sure mother has told you about Lady Cummings' salon? She is very excited about it. From what I have gathered, Lady Cummings is quite the intellectual. Her weekly discussion groups cover many of the latest scientific discoveries and seem to spawn a flurry of activity for much of the rest of the week, as the ladies involved prepare for the next meeting. Mother is full of activity and seems happier than when I left for school last September. I also think she may have gained a pound of two from all the tea and cake the ladies consume whilst discussing breakthroughs in modern manufacturing equipment.

Lady Granger is also in excellent health. She enjoys her visits with her peers very much, and her dutiful visits with her granddaughter somewhat less, as always. It seems that thirteen is still not yet an acceptable age to eat at table, to her mind, so it's back to the old toys in the nursery for me.

Cook has been committed to outdoing herself to show her appreciation for father's purchase of a new oven, and Mrs. Crabtree has a new grandson and has these two weeks off visiting her family.

I am spending all of my time on my studies. The wind is from the north these days, so I have curtailed my daily walks due to the smell of the Thames in summer.

I look forward to your next letter.

Your dutiful niece,

Hermione

Southwark, London.

Mrs. John Granger, Southwark, London

Dearest Helen,

I find myself with a sudden urge to visit Brighton. Would it be possible to steal my niece away as a companion?

Yrs,

Alice.

Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon.

Her aunt's coach had barely rumbled out of the lane when she turned to Hermione and said, "Now that we are alone, you simply must tell me what ails you girl. I've been worried sick about you these long weeks. First, your mysterious lack of letters for six weeks, and then the nearly despondent letter I received after you'd returned home. You mustn't do such things to your poor aunt. You will age me before my time."

"I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry, and you know how circumspect I must be in letters." Hermione slipped her hand inside her aunt's larger one. "Don't fret. It really isn't as bad as all that."

"I'll stop fretting when you start talking, my dear girl."

Hermione went on to explain to her the events of the last school year, and how, even when she had allowed herself to become swept up in things, she still ended up standing on the outside looking in.

"Even when it was all over and I came back home for the summer, it all still had the feel of seemingly being behind glass. After the joy of homecoming passed, I was still infused with a profound sense of my own insignificance. Everyone had moved on with their lives without me, and I didn't seem to fit in. I cannot seem to shake the sense that no matter how clever I try to be, in the end, my actions really do not signify."

Alice squeezed her hand and patted it. "I think I'm beginning to see the problem," she said with an understanding look of sympathy.

"Do you? I must say, I feel a bit foolish. A part of me knows there are people out there with far larger problems, but I can't just will the feeling away."

"That's because you must find the root of the matter and attack it there. It does no good to treat the surface."

"What is the root of the matter?"

"Well, from where I sit, a large part of it just seems to be your age. It is very hard to see the value in one's self when you are changing so very fast. Trying to find your strengths, at this point, is like trying to hold onto a stream of water. It's too fluid.

Hermione sat back against the velvet cushion of the coach and sighed.

"I think it might be because I'm just not really any one thing or another. I'm neither child, nor adult, neither Muggle, nor witch. I lack direction. Purpose. My magic sets me apart from my own family, and yet my nature seems to set me apart from magic folk. I don't belong. I don't fit in anywhere."

Alice smiled, and quipped, "It seems to me that you fit into my coach just fine, Hermione. Let's keep sight of our positives, shall we? We have three weeks to play in Brighton. While we are there, we shall either find your strengths, or learn how to fake them well enough to blend in anywhere."

"Flutter, dear! You must flutter better than that. See? It's all in the wrist!" Alice wielded her fan with gusto, causing Hermione to fall into a fit of giggles. "I cannot teach you the language of the fan, until you learn the rudiments."

"This is absurd! I look ridiculous! And so do you, by the way."

Alice snapped her fan shut and thwapped Hermione on the shoulder in one fluid motion.

"Wretched child!" she said with a laugh. "I'll have you know this is an art! And in our case, it is subterfuge. I cannot express the delights of playing the simpering maid just to set up the scathing retort. It is far better to have people underestimate us than the other way around. Now," she snapped her fan open commandingly, "again, and do try not to hit yourself on the nose this time."

Brighton was delightful. In the evenings, they went to small parties thrown by people they had just met, and during the day they took in the sights. They toured the Royal Pavilion, which was less grand for being under construction again. They strolled the beaches and painted the sea. They ate ices and heard orchestras and giggled behind their fans at the antics of the town. They chased moths and butterflies and caught crickets and beetles. And when it rained, they spent hours in the lending library or in tea shops. Alice hired a private dance instructor with a terribly false French accent, and Hermione finally learned to dance, at least well enough to justify her aunt's expense. Mr. Michaud even took delight in teaching her the forbidden dance… the waltz.

The two women strolled along in their best frocks, with their fans languidly cooling their upturned faces, mimicking the walks of the noble ladies strolling a few paces ahead. Alice had decided that their mission this trip was to embrace the Muggle wholeheartedly. She had vowed that by the end of their time, Hermione would be able to pass herself off in the highest of company, so that even if she felt like she didn't fit in, she could if she actually needed to.

Hermione had thrown herself into the ruse with relish.

"We will be leaving in a few days, dear," said Alice as they strolled back to their rooms. "I think it is time for the final test. The pièce de résistance. We have nothing left to perfect but the Granger Glower."

Hermione broke into a peal of laughter. "We mustn't, Aunt. I would hold you responsible if I were to start laughing in grandmother's face."

"No. I fear we must. In fact, I think it quite mandatory…" Alice's words trailed away as a small frown creased her brow. "Hermione, isn't that your housekeeper?"

Hermione spun around and looked toward the house Alice had let for the length of their stay. A sense of impending doom washed over her and she broke into a run, moaning, "Oh, no!"

Mrs. Crabtree was looking down the avenue in the opposite direction, standing on the front steps, wringing her hands. She turned her head and saw Hermione and her face crumpled up, as she dashed down the stairs with her arms open. She swept Hermione into her arms and hugged her close.

"Oh, Miss Hermione! Mrs. Perthwit! It's terrible! Something awful has happened, and you must come home right away!"

It took an inordinate amount of time for Snape to realize just what was wrong, as he looked out at the sea of faces all waiting for the first-year students to be escorted in. He blamed it on being distracted by Lupin. Every time he looked at the cretin, he felt a desperate need to hex something. When he finally understood what his unconscious mind was aware of, he left his seat and walked over to Dumbledore

"Headmaster, it would seem that we are missing a student. Do you want me to go in search?"

"Everyone has been accounted for, I believe."

Snape looked over at the Gryffindor table and could plainly see the looks of confusion and whispered mutterings between Potter and the various Weasleys.

"Sir, Miss Granger is not here."

"Miss Granger is no longer our student, Severus. Everyone who needs to be is already here."

At this point, he should have gone back to his seat and waited for the doors of the Great Hall to open. Instead, he found himself blurting, "But why?"

Dumbledore gave him a look of sadness. "Miss Granger has lost her parents. She has not been allowed to attend school this year. I fear, unless her guardian has a change of heart, we have seen the last of our Miss Granger."

Severus stood straight and walked back to his seat. He surprised himself by walking past it and slipping out the door behind.

Once outside, he walked swiftly around and back into the castle, hurrying down to his office and snatching open the file drawer marked 'student records.'

The sun was sinking fast as he rapped on the door with his cane.

It was pulled open by a young girl he didn't recognize.

"Can I 'elp you, sir?"

"I'm looking for Miss Hermione Granger," he said with a scowl.

"'Er? She's not 'ere. She moved on to live wif some family when 'er parents died. This 'ere's Mr. Townes' residence now. Sorry."

The door was closed in his face.

"Madam, you have a visitor. One Severus Snape."

Alice looked up from where she had been reading by the fire.

"I know that name. Send him in, Mrs. Crabtree. Please. Oh, and some tea, if you would."

Alice stood up and smoothed down the skirts of her black, bombazine gown. She folded her hands together in front of her and tilted her chin up as she heard the sound of boots in the vestibule.

A tall man, with sallow skin and a pinched face, dominated by a large, hawk nose, entered, and it took her a minute to recognize him with his well-cut coat, expertly tied cravat, and high, polished boots.

"Mr. Snape. I thought it might have been the same man. Welcome."

"Madam." He bowed his head gracefully, and she was reminded of Hermione's defense of his manners. Apparently he did, indeed, have them when he chose.

"Would you care to sit?" she asked, gesturing to the settee as she resumed her seat by the fire.

He declined.

"I'm afraid I have little time. My apologies for both the lateness and lack of notice for my visit. However, it has only just come to my attention that your niece is not attending school this term. I cannot stress to you enough how important it is that she should continue her studies."

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do."

"Mrs. Perthwit," he said with a magnificent scowl, pointing to Hermione's copy of The History of Magic, that Alice had been reading a moment ago. "I don't believe I am mistaken in thinking you understand the nature of Miss Granger's gifts."

"I do, indeed. I am the only one she ever confided in."

"It is imperative for the child's welfare that she learn to control these gifts and utilize them to her fullest ability."

"She's highly gifted in this area, is she not? Or do you take such exception with all of your students?"

He looked nonplussed and offended by her question, but why exactly that was, was not so clear.

"Miss Granger has the potential for greatness," he said as if chewing glass.

Alice sighed. "I thought as much. The women of my family are– were always capable of greatness. Unfortunately, it doesn't change the facts. I can do nothing. Hermione's parents were involved in a carriage accident. Her father died straightaway. Her mother, my sister… lingered. She'd broken her neck. Death was merciful, but Hermione surely doesn't see it that way. My foolish brother-in-law left instructions for just such an eventuality in his will. Hermione is now living with her grandmother, Lady Granger. She is miserable and heartsick, and if that old fraud has her way, Hermione is doomed. I fear she will never set foot in your world again."

They both fell silent as Mrs. Crabtree came in with the tea tray. The man declined a cup politely whilst looking thunderous.

"Mr. Snape... Professor… I know that minds were tampered with to explain away Hermione's teeth after her first year." Alice swallowed with difficulty. "Do you think there is a way—"

"No," he said flatly. "Appealing to your understanding was my only recourse. Miss Granger's previous situation was justified under our Secrecy Laws. This situation is different. The guardian must relent. In recent years, we took a magical child away from their Muggle guardian against their wishes, and it caused... issues. The laws have changed due to that. We can lie about the nature of our school, but we cannot run about the country snatching children from their rightful homes."

"That is not her rightful home," hissed Alice. "She belongs with me! I fought it. I'm still fighting it. I've won the right for her to stay with me for one month out of a year. I managed to save all of her school things from being sold or thrown away on the rubbish fire. I even have her wand. She was so distraught after the accident that she set it aside and forgot about it. I'm taking Lady Granger to court again in three months time to sue for custody, but I must admit that even my solicitors feel it is a foolish waste of funds. I don't really have a hope."

"Then neither does Miss Granger," the professor intoned.

"Is there nothing you can do? My niece speaks very highly of you."

He looked at her with a curious expression, before his face shuttered completely.

"No. My hands are tied. I have met Lady Granger, and without the use of my powers, I cannot hope to persuade her. When Miss Granger comes of age at seventeen, she will be able to find her way back to our community. I am exceedingly sorry for this unfortunate situation, but there is nothing I can actually do about it."

He grimaced and dragged his hand through his over-long hair.

She felt his frustration keenly.

"I must return to the school," he said. He nodded his head to her and turned toward the door.

Alice rose and followed him out to the foyer, where he picked up his hat and gloves and pulled his walking stick from the stand.

"I am very sorry for the loss of your sister and her husband, Mrs. Perthwit. And I apologize for taking up your time."

"I do so thank you for showing me that there are people in your world who actually care, Professor. My niece was no happier being a witch than she is now being a Muggle. I admit it was hard for me to desire something that I knew would make her feel worthless again."

He clenched his jaw, causing his cheek to jump, and placed his hat on his head. "One doesn't need magic to be made to feel worthless, Mrs. Perthwit. Good evening."

He strode out the door, and she slipped out after him, hiding in the shadow of the front steps, in her mourning gown. She watched him as he strode across the park toward the chestnut trees, gripping his gloves and cane as if ready for battle. As soon as he slipped into shadow, he twisted halfway around, coattails swirling, and disappeared.

Alice sighed and walked slowly back inside.

Snape sat in his rooms sipping Firewhiskey and staring at the flames.

He felt his wards shimmer and then the door opened.

The Headmaster entered the ascetic monk's cell of a room, and Snape set his drink down and stood up, since there was no other chair to offer.

"I take it your mission was a failure?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"You knew it would be."

"That doesn't mean I had left off all hope. You can do wonders when you have the bit between your teeth."

"I could do more if I was allowed."

"Severus—"

"How can you let him teach? You know what he is!"

"I have my reasons."

"Black is on the loose, Albus. This is not the time to be playing games with children's lives. A werewolf within the school? A murderous maniac without? Just what are you playing at?"

"If the danger were so great, why did you try to bring a Muggleborn student back to the school?"

Snape scowled and snatched up his drink.

"Because it's wrong! Everything about this feels wrong!" He restrained his temper and swallowed the rest of the spirits. "I cannot abide waste. Miss Granger not fulfilling her potential is a foolish waste of resources. She could even have been an asset to you in the coming struggle. No one else knew it was a basilisk last year! She had the answer in her hand, Albus, and no one even cared enough to look until it was over and I went to heal her!"

"Including you."

"I wasn't supposed to care! I'm the designated villain, remember?"

"I remember, Severus. The question is, do you?"

The Headmaster let the question hang in the air before he took his leave silently, leaving Snape staring at the place he had occupied with a frozen snarl of impotent rage on his face.

After the door closed behind the old man, Snape whirled around and flung his glass into the fire.

"Come child. Let me have a look at you." Lady Granger stood in the foyer in her elaborate black mourning gown. Her hair was covered by a black, straw bonnet, with a wide brim, perched atop a black lace cap, with the whole covered by a black lace veil. She adjusted the black, fringed shawl on her arms before looking at her granddaughter.

Hermione got the impression that Lady Granger had been waiting eagerly to don her tragic finery, ever since she'd reluctantly ended mourning for her husband, because three years of mourning was a bit excessive in anyone's circles. It was as if the six years since had been erased and she was in her glory again.

Lady Granger's beady eye took in Hermione in her own black muslin gown, gloves and bonnet, the result of a fast dip in a dye vat, rather than purchased new. Underneath, Hermione's skin had taken on a purple tinge that she feared might be permanent.

She had undergone a painful hour of having her hair ironed and pulled into the three tight knots. Two smaller by her ears, and one large and plain, set low on her head. There was enough oil in her hair to keep it waterproof for the next week, when she would have to repeat the process.

Hermione was of the firm opinion that her grandmother's lady's maid was evil.

"You'll pass muster, child. Mind that you don't start weeping in church again. One mustn't look vulgar in mourning. Emotional displays are for the lower classes. Mind your manners, and do not speak unless spoken to, and even then, keep it to a simple sentence. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

Hermione carefully put her bonnet on and tied the black ribbon under her chin.

Her grandmother gave a sniff and turned toward the door as Charles opened it.

"I cannot make a lady of you; you're too willful and spoiled for that. However, I will make you respectable, if I have to break you to do it child. You'd do well to mind my words, girl. Your parents didn't leave you naught. You'll have to make your own way in this world, and you should listen to advice where offered. I've got more worthy grandchildren to think about in the hereafter."

"Yes, Grandmother."

*looks around*

*runs*