A/N: Sorry a bit late. My beta forgot to attach it to her earlier email and as awesome as she is, I knew I couldn't post without her! And I'm recovering from food poisoning on top of things. You want to give me virtual soup and review, yes?

Chapter Twenty Five

Sitting in his study with a book was not nearly as much fun when it was for business instead of pleasure.

Three weeks had passed, and Hermione had dedicated part of each day to researching ways of bettering their chances in the coming conflict. Each day, it seemed there were more and more whispers of people disappearing, whether unexpectedly or by going into hiding. A few students had been removed from school, but mostly they just went about their business during the day and battened down the hatches at night.

Ginny was still leading Dumbledore's Army. Harry often came in to assist and teach the students some more advanced magic that he had learned along his way. At the start of the year, the attendance had been nominal, and it had felt more like a simple after-school activity. But now things were becoming real. The students were starting to show what they were made of as they eagerly gathered two, and sometimes three, times a week to either practice new spells and simple tactics or to discuss exit strategies for the young students and the weak points of the castle.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny knew that the Order was also looking into these things. However, there was no denying the fact that no one knew the castle as well as the students – especially the Weasleys – and that they had authority in sheer numbers. A hundred upperclassmen could corral and evacuate the younger ones far more effectively than thirty Order members, who would also be much more useful on the front lines if there was a large-scale attack on the castle.

In fact, during one of the rare meetings she attended, Hermione suggested that the fifth years take on the task of evacuating the castle or hiding in the Room of Requirement with the younger students, thus leaving the older ones to defend the castle as well. Soon, they made lists of all the younger students in each house. Hermione enchanted the lists together so that if someone marked off a name of a student found and brought to safety on one list, it would be reflected on all the lists, ensuring that no one was overlooked.

In the dusty silence of the sparse room, Hermione flipped another page. She knew that her friends were a little concerned about her absence for at least an hour or two every day, but she tried to explain to them how much more productive she was in his rooms, rather than the common room or even the library.

"Productive. Yeah, I'm sure," said Ron.

"Yes, productivity. As in, the amount of work produced in a given period of time. I know you don't understand the concept, but believe me when I tell you I cannot possibly accomplish as much in here with the noise and the chaos of students chatting and playing games, or even in the library, where I am constantly being sought out, especially this time a year, to help study and revise for exams. Professor Snape leaves me be, and I can search through his extensive library and have easy access to the restricted section."

"Alright, Hermione, sheesh. I just don't see how you can be down there every day."

"Which is exactly why I'm down there, and you're not," Hermione shot back as Ron waved an irritated arm in her direction and went to seek out Lorrell.

"Do you think you're going to tell him about you and Snape soon?" Harry asked.

"Not if I can help it," she told him.

Harry gave her a long-suffering sigh. "He isn't going to take it well."

"Why do you think I'm waiting?"

He looked at her in that clear, focused way that unnerved her when directed her way. "And you're happy?"

That was a question that was easy to answer. She beamed at him. "The happiest. He's a good man, Harry."

And now she was in that good man's rooms with a handful of books spread around her on the floor as she leaned against the bottom shelf. He had given her quite a bit of grief when she had first taken her research project to his floor, but he had hushed when she pointed out the logic that he had no large table for her to do her work.

He sat with his own book in the comfortable armchair. He was wearing small, square reading glasses which Hermione was pretty sure were the sexiest accessory ever invited. She had never really had a preference for men with or without frames until she saw his. She mentioned to him once that she really liked them, which had just made him embarrassed and caused him to shut them in a drawer. Silly man.

~~HGSS~~

Professor Snape was watching Hermione as she gazed at him from his floor with a wistful look on her face. He peered at her from over the rim of his glasses. "Yes?"

She quickly looked back to her book. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

He watched her for a moment longer, noting the delicate blush on her cheeks, which only made her lovelier. His face never changed, but inside, he was content.

He flipped to the next page in the large, old book.

Hermione was researching possible enhancement charms for Harry, while he was looking into ways to diminish Voldemort's power. He was starting by researching Voldemort's genealogy. He was hoping to find some genetic defect or aspect of his family history that would give him a clue as to where to start with a potion. It was a long shot, but so was anything at this point.

He flipped through page after page of pure-blood family histories. Most were so intertwined that one family could take up half a volume. His research was going slowly, as often these histories were incomplete and were carried on in an extension of another family in a separate book, making multiple cross-references common when trying to determine the lines of each family.

He was staring at a family tree he had always found a bit amusing.

The Black family tree.

Ah, that mongrel had come from such inbred stock. At points it was so convoluted he didn't know if anyone knew all the connections between any one person and the rest of the wizarding world. Or if they weren't all related through the Blacks, period.

This was a print of the family tree. It actually folded out and spanned several pages with tiny portraits and minuscule writing. Curious if this connected to Voldemort as well, he opened the multiple folds of parchment.

The noise made Hermione look up from her reading briefly, but she shortly lost interest and went back to Self Enhancement for the Sufficient Wizard.

He went to his desk and laid the unfolded print out to evaluate the visible connections with what he knew of the Black family history. He was certain, with the Gaunt family belonging to the Slytherin line, once one of the most prominent pure-blood families – rather like the Princes, he thought with a grimace – that there must be a connection somewhere.

Wouldn't that be rich, the self-righteous mutt related to the darkest wizard? For a moment, he regretted Black's passing, if only so that he could tell him of his discoveries when he made them.

He reviewed each portrait individually, straining his eyes to decipher the names and dates. As he came across the more recent history, names began to go missing from the tree. Some of them he was aware of, such as Sirius himself.

Snape followed the tree to where it led over to the Prewett family. The Blacks were connected to them only a few times, the latest being Lucretia Black and Ignatius Prewett. It was common knowledge that Ignatius Prewett was the brother of the dolt who had helped spawn Molly, the matriarch of the Weasley family. He was therefore surprised to find that the two brothers were placed next to a third bubble, which had been scorched off the current painting.

Curious if this was the connection or lead he needed, he flipped through a few of the book's other pages, not finding what he needed. He knew that individuals were automatically placed on the pure-blood family tree at birth and could be taken off later. However, they were also recorded in birth announcements in the press and in the records of the hospital of birth.

Asking Hermione's forgiveness for his absence, he left her to retrieve a few of the record books from the school's library. Forgoing the often incomplete recordings of the Daily Prophet, he retrieved a few of the record books from the major wizarding hospitals which covered the time period in question.

Returning to his rooms, he nodded at Hermione, who barely registered his presence, and eagerly searched the new materials. He found the records of the two brothers' births, the younger two brothers if the scorch mark before them was to be believed.

Where, oh where, was the third? Intrigued, he kept searching.

Finally, going back to 1882, he found the records of a Percy Aldridge Prewett, born in Melbourne, Australia. Apparently, the family had relocated back to England sometime between the boy's birth and the next son.

And why?

He was completely engaged. Why had this son fallen off the family tree?

He found no record of him at Hogwarts, where the other two boys had attended.

He found no record of him at the Sydney School for Sorcery either.

Looking through the Prewett household and the birth certificates, he found one for a maid there, a Rose Grainger, who had allegedly had a son named Percy in the same year, but his certificate hadn't been filed until the boy was five.

Now it became clear. The boy had been a Squib. It was not uncommon for pure-blood families to hide the abominations in their line, much as Muggle families had hidden deformed or mentally handicapped children, keeping them in a separate room or sending them away to far-off family.

He wrote down the boy's name for future research when he had time. Perhaps this Percy Grainger would lead him towards…

Wait a minute.

Percy Grainger.

That was Hermione's grandfather.

Who had been born in Australia.

If this was her family, and he was a Prewett, that would mean…

Shit.

~~HGSS~~

Hermione walked into the Great Hall in the morning to almost dead silence. She swore she heard her own footfalls over the gentle scraping of silverware on dishes and a hushed murmur.

She really needed to start getting here earlier.

She spotted Harry and Neville with Lorrell and went to join them. "Alright, who died?"

"Miles Bletchley," said Neville in a whisper.

"The guy who jinxed Alicia in the library last year?" said a surprised Hermione. She had been joking!

"Yeah. They found him this morning. Well, most of him," Neville told her.

Lorrell spoke up. "Apparently, he lost an arm."

"He was pretty torn up," said Harry. "And he had the Dark Mark carved into his arm. I hear he had a Muggle girlfriend. They don't know who got to him, but it looks like he was tortured using Muggle methods. Blood was all over the house, and someone had even written with it on the walls about him being a traitor and muddying the bloodlines."

"That's horrible! Do they know who did it? Did they leave any traces? Was anyone else around? You know, it could just be an imposter or something, but what if a Death Eater did it? Do you think they would escalate to actually murdering purebloods over affiliations?"

"No, they don't know. They are looking now. It was a Death Eater though. They are the only ones who can cast the Morsmordre. They found one over his house."

A horrible thought occurred to Hermione, and she looked over to Draco. He was at the table, but he looked pale and withdrawn to her. Had he been there last night? Did he have to stand by and watch or, even worse, participate as they murdered one of his former classmates? Miles had just graduated last year. Hermione didn't know if they had been close, but they would have at least been familiar. Her heart went out to him, knowing the position he put himself in at only seventeen.

Had Severus heard? He was not there at the High Table, and she doubted she could have been able to tell from his expression anyway. She would have to go find him later.

Harry was still talking about the attack when her mind wandered back into focus on the present. "Hogwarts may be the only truly safe place soon, especially for Muggle-borns and Muggle-born sympathizers." He looked straight at Hermione. "I bet it's really dangerous right now to be a wizard with a Muggle-born girlfriend. Especially if you've had anything to do with Voldemort."

"I think it's always been dangerous, Harry. Ron will have to be careful," Hermione told him, willfully misunderstanding him and standing suddenly. "We've been experiencing prejudice since we came here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class."

Hermione actually had a little time before she was required in Transfiguration. Professor Miller was rather like Tonks and a little forgiving when it came to tardiness. She decided to take a walk through the courtyard that was on her way to class. Being March, it was still chilly with patches of snow on the ground, but life was beginning to return to the grounds. Some things even Voldemort couldn't stop.

Walking through the garden, she stopped to brush snow off a little green bud pushing its stubborn way through the frozen earth. Squatting, she watched it for a moment as if she could will it to grow. She laughed at her own futility and continued on the path. She wondered if her mother's garden would still grow this summer without her. Would the new tenants keep the flowers her mother had gently cultivated for years?

She wondered what her parents would think of the path her life had taken since their passing. It hurt sometimes to remember that she couldn't send an owl to her dad or have late-night girl chats with her mum. At the start of each year, she had told her mum all about Ron and the Weasleys. Hermione was fairly certain her mother had known that Ron was just temporary but had been kind enough not to say so and to listen to her infatuated daughter.

What would she have said if Hermione had been able to tell her about Severus? She could just picture the conversation.

"Hey, mum, so, I wanted to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything, dear."

"Well, you remember my Potions professor? The one who insulted my teeth and is a spy? Well, I'm in love with him, and we're seeing each other. How about I bring him around for fish and chips one night to meet you and Dad?"

Hermione shook her head, clearing the vision. That would be too surreal.

She had no idea how she would have introduced him to her family. It was strange, not having to meet his family either. It was just the two of them. Perhaps that made it easier. There was no familial pressure. No 'You're dating a Muggle-born student? or 'You're dating your older professor?'

Knowing her parents, they would have understood. Her father had met her mother after moving back to England. They had fallen in love and wanted to marry. Her mother's parents had been skeptical, even though her father had only been eight years older, but, with her mum being only eighteen, they had been worried he was taking advantage of her. Eventually, they had relented, and her parents had obviously been well-suited for each other.

They had mentioned time and again that they trusted Hermione to know herself. She was a very poised and confident young woman with more than enough common sense.

But even still, what would they have thought when this tall, dark, and handsome man – in her eyes – walked through the door into their quaint country home? Would he have fit in, sitting on the white floral sofa next to her mother's crocheted afghan?

It was difficult being in love with someone so different from your upbringing. She felt like she was leaving the Muggle world behind completely, with nothing there to keep her anymore. No summers and holidays in the family home. She wondered how Harry dealt with it, although she couldn't blame him if he was completely overjoyed and never thought about the fact that he was leaving his mother's world behind.

Leaving the garden courtyard, Hermione worked her way through the throng of students. It boggled her mind that no matter which way you travelled in the hall, it always seemed like you were going against the rest of the crowd.

She still pondered the thought of Snape and her parents. Would they have thought he was too aloof or insensitive for their sometimes overemotional daughter? Would they have cared about his past or his love for Harry's mum?

The full history between the two of them was not known to her, but she could imagine the look of surprise on her mother's face had she ever known.

In the end, she thought her parents would have been alright with her decision. A little persuasion may have been needed, on both ends.

Because who knew what Severus would have thought of her quiet, exacting father and her impetuous, outgoing mother.

But it was just them now. Just Severus and Hermione. The only opinion they had to worry about, besides her friends and the school's, was, well, the entire wizarding population's, including Voldemort.

What in the name of Merlin was she getting herself into?

Settling into her chair in Miller's class, she wondered. What was she getting herself into? Was this a good idea, involving herself, at a time like this, with the man who used to be at the right side of the darkest wizard ever known? Was she placing them both in serious danger – more danger than they would have been in normally – by having a relationship with him? Was it fair to either of them to put such a fragile and personal thing like their feelings for each other on a pedestal in front of their entire community?

Then she thought of his face, so open and expressive the night he had thought she was going to leave. Though he had yet to say much – and neither had she – she knew he cared for her. And knowing that made the rest seem diminished.

No, she would give this her best effort. And she had not failed at many things so far.

All her classes that day were extremely subdued. Even the younger students who hadn't really known Bletchley were quiet. A hush was over the castle as it mourned the loss of the young student. A few teachers made comments at the beginning of class, and Professor Flitwick loudly blew his nose into his handkerchief throughout his lessons.

The Gryffindor common room wasn't much better. After returning from Charms, her hopes of running in and out were dashed by the glum collection of her friends by the fire. Dropping her book bag near the sofa, she sat with them, waiting a moment before speaking.

"How is everyone?"

Ron shrugged. "Alright, I suppose. Better than some."

A murmur of agreement went through the crowd before Lorrell spoke up.

"I'm sure my mom is going to want me home now. Hopefully she doesn't hear about it right away. I'm certainly not going to tell her."

"So she still wants you to return?" asked Ginny.

"Yea," Ron told them. "Her mum seems pretty lenient, but she's worried, you know."

Ginny nodded as Harry and Hermione just shrugged.

"I'm going to talk to her in a few days, but right now, I just want to enjoy Easter. I miss being at the Burrow, and the house-elves are good and all, but Mrs. Weasley is a really good cook."

"Yes, she is," Hermione agreed, thinking of kippers and pie.

"Will you be coming down as well?" asked Ron.

"Oh, well, um, I didn't really know I was invited," said Hermione with a glance at Lorrell.

"'Course you are," Ron told her.

"You're one of our oldest mates, Hermione," said Harry.

Hermione thought it over. She would like to see the Weasleys, but she was knee-deep in research, and she really wanted the quiet weekend to spend with Severus – if he wanted to. They had been taking things extremely slowly, so she wasn't sure if she was imposing on him yet or what his normal plans were.

"Please?" said Ginny. "I've missed you at home. It just isn't the same without you."

"I have some things I'm still working on here, but how about I come on Sunday for the big meal, okay?"

"Yeah, 'Mione," said Ron. "I'll owl Mum and tell her to expect you. Not that it matters much, she'll be making enough food to feed an army, but, you know, I'll tell her."

Hermione nodded. "I'm going to go and get a few more books. I'll be in Professor Snape's office if anyone needs me."

She wouldn't really be in his office, but it was better to say in mixed company. If anyone truly needed her and came there, the wards on the door would alert him in his chambers, and she could easily step into the next room as though she had been there the entire time.

Reaching his rooms, she lifted her hand to knock on the frame when she heard a small latch pop free.

"Just go in, dear. And be wary. I'm afraid he's being rather acrimonious this evening," the Count told her.

"Thank you for the warning."

She popped her head in and noticed the door to his lab was cracked open. As she walked in, she must have made some noise since he began to snap at her.

"I don't know why in the bloody hell you're here again. There is absolutely nothing I care to discuss. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer that you turn your tartan-clad arse around and head back from where you came."

Hermione repressed a chuckle. "Well, I didn't wear tartan today, but I can change if you want."

He quickly turned his head, sending the unwashed black hair flying around his face. "Hermione."

"Expecting someone else?"

"After a fashion. Minerva has been after me all day, telling me to express my feelings and sympathies. I expressed them to her, but I don't think she cared for them."

"Brewing?"

He made a noncommittal noise and said, "Calming Draught. Poppy's nearly out. Never think about the boy a day in their lives, and suddenly, everyone is all distraught at his passing."

"Why don't you let me finish that for you while you go freshen up before dinner?" she asked.

He looked at the potion and furtively sniffed himself. He had been down there for quite some time, hadn't he? No one had ever offered to assist with brewing before, but he wasn't going to turn down her offer.

"I'm just about to add the lavender."

"I know," she told him. "Go on."

As he moved to pass her, she said, "Wait, come here first."

He took a small step closer. "I'm rather unsavory at the moment; you probably don't want to be near me."

"I don't mind," she said as she filled the space between them and tipped up on her toes to kiss him, feeling the stubble on his face.

He was constantly surprised when she did that. He didn't know if women were typically this affectionate behind closed doors or if this had to do with her Muggle upbringing, but he wasn't going to complain.

"Would you mind if we had dinner in?" he asked, still holding her. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Fine with me," she said as she headed to the cauldron. "Just order something when you're done washing up. You know what I eat."

Marveling that he did, in fact, know what she preferred, he went to see about his shower.

As he unbuttoned his trousers, he found that getting naked and washing himself was very difficult knowing that they were separated by mere stone.

Once showered and dressed, he summoned Inez and asked for their dinner. The crack was still ringing in the bathroom as he stepped out to find Hermione in his chair, bare feet dangling over one arm and a book propped in her lap.

If this greeted him every day in his chambers, he would die a happy man.

Seeing him, she smiled and swung her legs back over the chair. As he sat down, he told her in a grave tone, "There's something I want to tell you."

"It's okay," she told him, not wanting him to have to relive the painful memories if he didn't wish to. "I already know."

"You do?" he asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to upset you," she said. "I know the history, and well, it's common knowledge, so I didn't think it needed to be discussed. We can talk about it, though, if you feel like you need to."

It was common knowledge? How had he missed that? "I just wasn't expecting it."

"I don't think any one of us was," Hermione said sadly.

"I feel like everything has changed."

"It's alright. Every day, it's a little easier to bear."

"I doubt it," he said. "I think I'd rather have killed myself."

"Severus! It's sad, but he was just a student."

"But it's Weasley!"

"What?" she said. "Nothing's wrong with Ron."

"Well, I think we could argue that point to death, but even if you are amiable with him, it doesn't mean you want to count him as family," he told her. "How long have you known?"

Now she was thoroughly confused. "Known what?"

"That you're related to the Weasleys?"

"No, I'm not," she said. "My parents are Muggles. I have no family. That's not very funny, Severus."

"Wait, first, what were you talking about?"

"Miles Bletchley, of course!"

"Ah, yes, well. This information is much more shocking. It was well known in Slytherin that Bletchley flaunted things he shouldn't have." He retrieved the book with the large print of the Black family tree and the records he had found.

"You are aware that Molly Weasley is a cousin by marriage to the Black family?"

"Yes," Hermione responded.

"That connection happens here," he said, showing her the painting with the burned portrait in the Prewett family. "As you see, one portrait is missing. I had only ever heard of the two brothers, Ignatius and Molly's father, William. Most of the family has been scorched off, but we still know who they are. There was no mention of this third individual. So I searched birth records. I found that Ignatius and William's parents had given birth to a son, who later turned out to be a Squib, a disgrace in itself.
He was raised by a maid in the household. The family even left them behind when the Prewetts moved back to England from Australia. The Prewetts had had a baby boy, Percy. He took the name of his fill-in mother, the maid – Rose Grainger."

Hermione stifled a gasp.

"This is Percy Grainger, your grandfather, and first cousin to Molly Weasley, née Prewett."

"And then he had my father," carried on Hermione, "who must have been raised by Ignatius."

"Indeed. It seems the middle son had a fond attachment to his Squib brother, and the country itself, and moved there later in his life with his family."

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God," repeated Hermione. "And Ron's brother, Percy Ignatius. Oh, my God. She knew him! Molly must have known my grandfather. But it's no wonder she didn't know it was me. I mean, my parents aren't magical, and my dad didn't keep in touch. I always thought I was a Muggle, and Molly probably never even met my father. And if so, then she is my cousin once removed. And Ron is my second cousin." She stopped. "Ron is my second cousin. Oh, God. I'm going to be sick!"

Snape watched as she bolted for the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Even through the solid oak door, he could hear the retching.

"He's my cousin!" Hermione wailed from the other side. "He's my cousin, and we almost…" Her sentence was cut off by the sound of more retching.

He felt sorry for her, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little bit amused by this development. He could now say with confidence that he was not concerned about her going back to Weasley now, even if the American was not in the picture.

"The ginger hair," Hermione cried. "I should have known! Of all the wizards, why? Why, Merlin? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He chuckled a little in spite of himself. He knew it shouldn't be funny, but the irony was rather amusing. As was her pitiful reaction.

Looking up as she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her face was washed, but she was still crying.

"Come here," he said, returning the favor she had once extended to him.

She buried her face in his robes. "I'm so happy that I have family and that they're the Weasleys, but I'm also mortified, Severus. Humiliated! I was dating my cousin!"

"Yes, well, welcome to the wizarding world," he told her with sarcasm.

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?" she asked, suddenly afraid. "Please let me do it."

"I wouldn't dream of interfering," he said with honesty and a little smirk she couldn't see. "I only ask to be there."

"I'll want you there. I think I'll need the support."

He held her close, put in his place by her words and realizing how much this had upset her and thrown her world out of order beyond just the fact that she had dated that blockhead.

Snape would be there, however, for as long as she needed him to be, for as long as she wanted him.

Teaser: "Did you seduce her? What have you done, Severus?"

Side note: The majority of the family histories in here are canon. The embellishment comes by making Percy the third brother and having his raised by a maid. Pretty much everything easily, and shockingly, fell into place. Thus why Hermione remained an unintended virgin. It was just too much fun not to do.