So you guys are getting this a day early because it's Sev's birthday! He turns 58 today... Still four years until 2022, when this story first begins and they're catapulted back to 1998. I'd like to think that he's enjoying his time with Hermione and the boys today, like any other day ;) It's two years after the events of Batman Daddy, so Bryan would be just an itty bitty second year! (speaking of which, if you haven't read that one shot I encourage you to do so)

This chapter is one of my favorites, and I hope you smile as much as I did when I wrote it.

Deep in the confines of Hogwarts, three students were hard at work.

"No offense to the room," Bryan said, "but I don't know how fresh the ingredients it offers are. You guys probably have a budget, but don't forget that the Prince vaults are open to us. We could get our hands on loads more ingredients if we didn't limit ourselves to what Hogwarts already has on store."

"Now that's a thought," Hermione said slowly. "I keep forgetting that the Prince vaults are a thing. How much do old herbs affect the overall efficacy of a potion, do you know?"

"Overall, not much," Johnny replied. "But it's a good idea nonetheless. We're only testing with the well-known ingredients as is. Could really do with expanding our horizons, and having the means to do so is great."

"Alright then. Let's make a list of potential potions bits that would be useful to us, and then we can decide when and which of us will go and pick them up.

"What's in there again?" Bryan asked, pointing to the cauldron with an active substance in it.

"We've just been testing how certain ingredients act around each other. A work in progress, if you may. I think we've got a pretty nonstandard healing paste in here, actually. Not what we're looking for, but on the right track."

"That sounds pretty useful by itself," Bryan remarked. "Have you just been randomly putting stuff in there? By that I mean would you be able to recreate it?"

"Course. What use would a test potion be if you couldn't recreate it? Notes, right over there, on every step we took."

Bryan was suitably impressed.

The resident potions master of Hogwarts was hard at work brewing a new invention of his, and he'd invited his new apprentice to come observe the process. "I trust you will be doing the same one day," he said. "That is, if you haven't already done some experimenting?"

The question was left in the open, the professor clearly wondering just how far the younger man had cultivated his talents.

"I did, erm, accidentally make a voice changer once. Nothing at the moment, though."

Severus nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard and focused back on the potion. "Now then, which ingredient on this table top would you select next, and how much, to put in after these seven stirs are up?"

While Johnny was smart, he couldn't really claim the brains on this one as he already knew of this potion's existence. He knew his dad was already bent on putting the poppy leaf in next, but from his anecdotal stories it was well known to Johnny that such a mixture had not ended well, and that ryegrass was a much better choice.

"I would say the ryegrass," he said. Seeing the professor raise his eyebrows, he plowed on, "before you object, I know that the poppy leaves seem like the right answer. The poppy's seeds are believed by many to enhance memory, and given that you're going for a sort of memory-charm reversal potion… It's just a little too obvious. Why not just crush and boil poppy seeds and be done with it? Sounds a bit crass when you put it that way, doesn't it?"

"That is… quite an interesting way of thinking, Mr. Sawyer. Having ingredients that match with the intended purpose is not generally thought to be a bad thing."

I know, thought Johnny. I would never have thought to go with the rye either if I didn't already know. He snickered a bit in his head. Dad'll think I'm sooo smart when he finds out I was right and he was wrong. Outwardly, he shrugged. "It's just the feeling I got for this one. Generally, you'd be right."

"Well, since I don't want to completely throw your judgement out the window, but seeing as I disagree with your thought processing… I shall split the current solution into two and try both options."

"Alright, you do that." From the corner of his eye, he spotted the birthday card that he and Roman had anonymously sent to their father. His little brother had insisted on letting the man know that someone was thinking of him. While it wouldn't be completely odd for them to send the card as themselves, given the experiences that had already happened, they had no reason to know when their professor's birthday was. Therefore they had pulled it off as a young fan of the war hero who was behind the communication, and Roman had decorated it with a few drawings of his. It was pretty cute, Johnny had to admit. They had to use a Hogwarts owl to pull it off, and the owl had looked back indignantly when it was told that its final destination was in that same castle.

Severus had just started meticulously transferring the in-progress potion into two smaller cauldrons when there was a knock on the door. Their eyes met, and Johnny asked, "Can I get it for you?"

"Yes, that would be very much appreciated," he said. "Do keep whomever it is occupied for a short while. Just until I finish this part."

"Got it." For some reason, something so simple as getting the door for his father made his heart swell. It meant he was representing him, and it even felt like, in a way, that they were sharing quarters. He didn't think his father would allow just any student answer the door. His door. He suddenly felt silly and willed himself to stop thinking about it.

He opened the door, revealing none other than his mother. They stared at each other in surprise for a bit before Hermione automatically reached out her hand and ruffled his long, dark bangs. Johnny shied away automatically, but he knew his dad was safe in the deeper parts of the room and hadn't seen.

"You must be his new apprentice," she said loudly by way of greeting, figuring that Severus was in there somewhere.

"I am," he said. "How did you know? I wasn't aware that the professor had told anyone," he said, playing along.

"He might've mentioned it in passing," she said simply. "Keeping it on the down-low, then?"

Johnny couldn't help but crack a smile. "You spend too much time around Bryan... over there in Gryffindor. Do you even know the origin of that phrase?"

"I do not spend too much time around Bryan Sawyer," she said mock defensively, but keeping up the Hermione Granger persona. "Is he the king of slang or something?"

"No, but that's…" American slang, he wanted to say. American slang that was widely in use in Germany when we grew up. In the future. He couldn't say that with his father hearing their every word, of course. "Nevermind. You're here to see Professor Snape, right? He's just manning a crucial step in a potion; he should indicate or something when he's able to see you."

"That's alright." If it had been anyone else at the door, Hermione would have been disappointed at yet another effort gone wrong at meeting up with Severus. She had been more than a little but upset when he was unreachable on his birthday. As it was Johnny, she really didn't mind. "So…" she began awkwardly, not knowing what to say if she had to pretend she didn't know him, "you're Bryan's brother."

"One of them," he quipped. Suddenly remembering something Bryan had said months prior, he piped up. "Say, you're a girl. If my mum were to get remarried—"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up into the air. "You almost sound like Ron—one of my old friends, I mean—he said that once, that I'm a girl. Well spotted."

He ignored her as he struggled to get out what he wanted to say. "When… if she were to do that, how many more siblings do you think we'd get?"

Hermione burst into laughter, unable to help herself. "I don't know a thing about your mother, mind you, and my just being a girl doesn't mean I know her better than you must." She laughed some more. It was times like this that made her children seem much younger. This must've been a legitimate concern of Johnny's; that she would marry this younger version of Severus and abandon her current family. Well. He'd certainly thought far. "And is your mother… seeing someone new?"

"No," he said. "But she wants to." He gave her a significant look, and she dissolved into another fit of quiet giggles.

"Do tell her that she ought to be more focused on providing for the three lovely children she already has before considering more."

"You mean there won't be more?"

"I didn't say that. But I also don't know your mum," she added for Severus's benefit. She shook her head internally. Of all the times Johnny could have had this conversation with her…

"I'm sorry for keeping you, Miss Granger," a smooth voice interrupted, "although I'm sure my apprentice has kept you sufficiently amused." Johnny blushed. "Was there anything you needed for you to show up at my door?"

"Well, I can see you're busy. Whatever I needed can wait." With Johnny there, she really had no place appealing to him. It wouldn't be fair to kick their boy out when she knew he must be enjoying every moment. She would just have to catch him at another time.

"Are you sure?" he asked, smirking. "My young apprentice can answer any potions question as well as myself."

She looked him in the eye before curtly saying, "you know as well as I do that I didn't come for a potions question. Goodnight. Sir." She turned back around. "You too, Johnny. It was nice putting a face to the name." She rushed out the door, thinking that maybe it was a good thing that she wasn't given the chance to act on her impulses. It hadn't helped her last time.

It had taken Severus less than two minutes to split the potion into two and add the respective ingredient into each. He would have emerged sooner, but he was transfixed at the sight of his apprentice with Granger. These were two people that he held a soft spot for; Hermione for the growing attraction he didn't want to admit and Johnny simply for all the time they'd spent together by now. It wasn't a whole lot, but for the reclusive professor, it was saying something.

It was a decidedly odd feeling. Belonged was the wrong word, but for lack of a better word, it was almost like… like they both belonged to him; like he was the mutual friend connecting the two.

"So, your mother wants to see someone?" Severus later asked Johnny, referencing the earlier conversation. "Does she have a habit of moving on so quickly from one partner to the next?"

Johnny stared back, blank faced.

"Forgive me," his father said quickly, "I did not mean to imply—" He had merely hoped that the boy would confirm his theory and explain how she'd remarried a man who wasn't the boys' father.

"No, it's alright," he said slowly. "My mother… she doesn't move on. I mean, she moved on fine when her friends decided that they didn't agree with her life choices, but she simply couldn't move on when… when my dad passed. She…" He looked to his father, wondering if he really wanted to hear more, and also wondering how much he should tell. The older man looked back encouragingly. "She became so depressed and aged so many years. It really killed her, you know? If she wasn't also pregnant she might've dropped dead from grief. It's not that I can't imagine her with anyone else because she's my mum, it's simply that there's no way she'd ever settle for anyone else."

"But you said—"

"I was pulling the head girl's leg," he interrupted quickly. "Bryan and I joke all the time about how… how funny it would be—because we know it won't happen, mind you—if Mum remarried and had more kids. Of course H-Hermione wouldn't know the answer. Trick question. Bit of a personal joke."

It certainly didn't sound like joking that early morning in the corridor, Severus said. But the boy sounded so sincere now, as if he was revealing a big secret about his mother… Which was the truth?

"Mr. Sawyer... Johnny…"

The boy looked at him in surprise.

"As you are now my apprentice, I shall endeavor to call you by your given name while we are in private."

"I'd like that very much, sir," he said almost shyly.

"As I was trying to say," Severus started again, "I… trust you, and I can only hope that you can say the same."

He thinks I'm lying, Johnny thought with a heavy heart. If only he knew how very much I want to tell him everything.

Hermione's heart filled with hope the moment she saw the tall, cloaked figure looming the halls one early morning. So he'd decided to patrol at this time again—did that mean he was willing to give her a chance? He spotted her, and far from fleeing the scene, he waited where he stood for her to inevitably draw closer.

She did, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to start. She didn't trust herself.

"Why did you come back? You don't need Hogwarts. You're brighter than everyone, and that isn't an empty compliment. For once, your dunderheaded friends had the right idea." His voice was harsh, but they both knew there was more bark than bite.

"I suppose the main reason was that I wanted to sit my NEWTs," she said thoughtfully. That was pretty much the only reason she came back the first time around, anyhow. "They seemed like the culmination of my time here. The second reason…"

"Yes?"

"You don't want to hear it, Professor. But I simply had to see you. I don't know how it started, or when…" after I left Hogwarts, and met you in Hogsmeade that one day, but that hasn't happened yet… "and I can't really explain it, but I find myself inexplicably drawn to you. The past few months have shown me that you are so much more than the man you choose to reveal to the world. And it's sinful, maybe, but I want that. I want you." Encouraged by his lack of dissent, she steadied herself and continued. "I've long been called mature for my age. By the time I was nine, I knew the periodic table by heart. I'd read a great deal of Dickens, could recite Shakespeare, Tennyson..." She smiled fondly, her youngest's face popping up into her mind at the thought of how she'd influenced him to also like Tennyson. Not wanting to fall off track from this important conversation, she continued, "here, while other girls worried about their hair, or boys, or midnight rendezvous, I could only scoff. Don't you see? I won't settle for less, not when I can have more."

"You're eighteen—"

"Nineteen. But honestly, I don't even know how old I am. I gained so many hours with the time turner back in third year that I'm probably closer to twenty."

"Nineteen, then. You're nineteen. You've only been alive for nineteen years. It's too early for you to settle for, heaven forbid, me, when you have no idea what else is out there."

"I don't care," she whispered. "You're not perfect, I know, and there's probably better if I scourge this earth, I know, but they wouldn't be you." You, the man I married and raised my wonderful little family with. Every additional 'I know' sounded more and more emotional, and she hated herself for it. She felt her eyes fill and quickly wiped the traitorous tears away. I love you, she wanted to say. I've missed you, and I'm so happy you're alive.

Her eyes were blazing with such expression that Severus was unnerved. He hadn't imagined that the little witch could have so much feeling in her. Her forwardness before the holidays had turned him off right away, not physically, of course, but this? This crying version of the same girl—no, woman—gave him no choice but to take her seriously.

"If we do this," he began slowly, all rudeness out of his voice, "are you prepared to face the circus? Do you know what everyone would say about you? I could care less for my reputation, but yours?"

"My reputation?" She choked back a sob that hadn't quite left her from earlier. "Undesirable no. 2 right here. Not quite a sterling reputation."

"Don't forget I was the Dark Lord's right-hand man."

"Well aren't we just a pair of convicts!" She took a step closer. His breath hitched, and she was close enough to feel his entire body stiffen.

Then her lips were on his, her toes straining from having to tip-toe so high to reach him. She nervously slid her hands up and down his shoulders, and she felt an unsure hand on her back. She kept it sweet and innocent, and just as quickly as it had begun, she backed away, peering up at him shyly.

He gently touched his own lips in wonderment. "It's been quite a while for me." By a while, he meant never. This one little kiss was so gentle, so full of emotion, and so wholesome that it surprised him.

"Me too."

He left it at that, not questioning her even though he wondered whom she was speaking of. She smiled at him again before slipping into the shadows. He could not help but think that she carried herself with such a wizened maturity; the Hermione Granger he thought he knew from teaching her for years would likely have peppered him with followup questions. The familiarity in her eyes unnerved him, but it also sent a warm feeling straight to his chest.

My dear Eloise,

I know I promised not to write again and I know you and Daddy must think I'm crazy for doing this and maybe I am indeed completely crazy, but sometimes just talking to you two in my head isn't enough. I told myself I wouldn't do it, that I wouldn't write a silly letter that has nowhere to go, but let me have this moment, please?

You've heard it all in my head, in fact you've probably seen it all, but we are all well. Bryan was having a bit of trouble, but most of it seems to have cleared up. But me? I'm better than well. In fact the only reason I'm not asleep at this ungodly hour is probably because I'm giddy from joy. I've finally kissed him. Your wonderful, difficult, father. And he didn't kill me.

She lifted up her quill, thinking for the umpteenth time how silly she was.

I thought I was getting better, she wrote, this time to no one in particular anymore. I thought I could put the past behind me and move on, but I can't. Why can't I just let you rest in peace? The boys think I'm better. And I am, I think. Around them, I can forget. But when I'm alone? It kills me. Not knowing whether I can be successful in this. The uncertainty of it all. Eloise, I am quite mad!

Stop worrying about me. I know you are. I'm worrying about myself too. How about if you stop, I'll stop? She shook her head. Now I'm just talking to myself but worse, writing down everything as it rages about in my head.

Walking out of her room into the common room she shared with Draco, she lit the fireplace and threw the letter in, as she always did. The crackling of the fire was comforting as she watched the letter shrivel up and turn into ashes.

"Granger?"

She turned around in surprise. "Draco!"

He cracked a smile. "I'm sorry I keep calling you Granger when you've got the Draco thing down pat. Old habits die hard. Anyways, what are you doing?"

"Salvaging my sanity."

"The fuck?"

"That is Hermione-language for 'destroying any evidence that I'm insane and simultaneously warming myself up by the fire.'"

"You're not insane. You're one of the sanest people I know."

"That's not saying much, considering the people you know."

"Touché."

They were silent for a moment.

"Why do you think you're insane?" he asked, effectively shattering the peace as she stared unmoving into the flames.

"I can't move on," she whispered. "I can't. From people, places, or times that I know are long gone. It's easy to pretend that it's all behind me when I'm focused on something else, but it all comes back to bite me when I least expect it."

The words seemed to strike a chord within the Malfoy heir, and his face took on an unreadable expression as he smiled tightly and sat beside Hermione by the fire. "Nostalgia. Granger, if you think that makes you insane, then we're all insane. I also miss the days when I was four or five and my father was my hero. He was free to be himself, not the Dark Lord's servant, and against all odds, he did love me. I miss those days all the time. But they're gone."

"Tell me more about those days." She was consciously aware that she'd scooted closer, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I don't know what you want to hear, Granger. You might just turn me into a sentimental mess too by the time I'm done."

"Anything, really."

"Hm. When I was six, in between break times from learning with the nanny, my mother would take me outside the halls of the Manor and into the gardens in the back. And I know the gardens aren't as amazing in real life compared to how I'm about to describe them, but this is how I remember them; don't laugh, alright? It was green everywhere, always in bloom, with birds flying about. Somehow I can only remember this in spring. I would pick at this crumbly plant and break it into tiny pieces onto the patio, telling my mother that it was bird food. And with glee the next day I would always see that the birds had eaten every bit. Only when I grew older did I realize that she was vanishing it behind my back. Weekends were the best, because then my father would come out with us too."

Hermione smiled, having heard this story before. She placed a comforting hand on his back. He jumped before relaxing at her touch.

"You see?" he said. "It's no good, thinking of these things. You're happy for a moment, and then you're sad that it'll never be this way again."

"I know," she said, wiping surreptitiously at her eyes. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Try to get some sleep, Gr—Hermione," he said quietly, rising from his seat and heading back to his room. It seemed that he had been saddened by the experience too. "There aren't that many hours until sunrise, anyway."

She was grateful that he hadn't asked her for a memory too. Somehow, she doubted that she'd be able to hold back as she proudly recounted special moments in her and her children's lives.

Swoon! Would absolutely love to hear your feedback on this one! Multiple directions I can take this... I've gotten some lovely reviews lately and I just wanted to tell you all how much I appreciate it.