Hermione had always loved the Room of Requirement. The castle itself had seemed to heal it with its magic. Some Unspeakables wanted to tear apart the room to try and figure out how the castle had done it, while the rest of the place seemed to be doing the exact opposite. To possibly use it to help rebuild other areas of their world. But the headmistress would have none of it. Hogwarts would be allowed to keep her secrets and that was likely for the best in the end. Harry paced back and forth in front of the doorway. The heels of his boots hit the stone floor. One turn on his heel, pacing again, a second time, then a third. The door appeared before Harry, the heavy oak door with the brass knob. He opened it, they both stepped into it and before them was a small room with three armchairs and fire. It was carpeted and to Hermione it felt her childhood home.
Remus sighed, a pipe still hanging between his teeth and then joined them.
Hermione took a seat, tucking up her knees in the chair, staring blankly at the fire to avoid the gaze of her friend. Harry sat in a chair; with his elbows on his knees and glasses slipping down his nose. He smiled at her though it did not reach his eyes. Remus sat next to him.
"Hermione, what is it that you wanted to talk about?" Harry asked.
"What would you do if you could change the past and fix things? Would you take the chance even if it caused you to have to leave?"
"Yes," he said into his hands. "What is it? What can I do?"
"It's not you, it's me that has to do it," Hermione murmured, brushing her nose softly with the sleeve of her jumper. "Let me show you and that will explain it all."
"What did you find?" Remus questioned, shifting around in his seat.
Hermione slowly pulled out both the compass and the photograph, setting them on her lap. She sighed, reached across the distance and handed them to Harry. His eyes became wide at the compass, but his nose wrinkled at the sight of Snape in the photo.
Thoughts tumbled through Hermione's mind like stones falling down a hill. 'Could this work? It couldn't be a one-way trip because then there would be an older Hermione around, wouldn't there? Or maybe she was dead. Nope, she wasn't going to think about something like that. No bloody way. The world around them would crumble with the paradox of it all.'
"Who is that woman with Snape?" Harry muttered, "you can't possibly think that she's you, can you?"
"Let me see that," Remus said, reaching for both items.
"Here," Harry said, handing the photo to him.
"That's exactly what I think," Hermione snapped, shifting and straightening herself out. "I mean, she even has that stupid chipped tooth I got a few weeks ago."
Remus nodded and replied, "I agree with you."
"But, that means," Harry murmured, trailing off at the end.
"It means another version of me went back in time and married Professor Snape, when he was younger, at least," she deadpanned, twisting a curl around her finger. "I mean, he might have been different then, couldn't he?"
"He's Snape," Harry mused. "I have seen his memories. He's not capable of being anything but mournful at best and cruel at worst. And anyway, he was in love with my mum, so it's not like Snape could have loved her whomever she might have been."
"Harry!" Remus growled, "the proof is… right here and yet still… Forget it." He crossed his arms over his chest and handed the photo back to Hermione.
She shouldn't care about what her friend said, nor should Remus. It didn't really matter, now, did it? She knew it in every single bloody fibre of herself, and yet part of her did exactly that -- Hermione did care. It was not that she wanted to end up as her future self. Past self? It didn't make any sense at all or at least in her head. Her goal was not to end up in the same place as that Hermione did.
Harry fiddled with the compass in his hand, opening and closing it, shoving it around like he was a cat playing with a toy. "How does this even bloody well work?" He asked her as he squinted at the compass over the rims of his wire-framed glasses.
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione groaned and then she snapped. "And if you continue doing that we will never find out!"
He continued on, causing the photo he also held to slip from his fingers and fall to the floor. Hermione dove for it, snatching it from the ground and stealing back the compass from her friend's hands.
"Why did you do that?" Harry whined, clearly not pleased. "It's like… You want to go and be with him or something."
"I do not!" she growled, "I want to fix things, not marry Severus!"
"Severus, is he now?" he asked, a borderline mocking tone filling his voice. "When did that happen? When you found that photo?" One eyebrow shot into his untamed hairline.
"No," Hermione said, gathering her things and starting to make her way out of the room. Before leaving she said, "It changed when we left him bleeding on a floor to be eaten by a snake. No one deserves that Harry, no matter what they have done. I am going to go back and it's not for him, it's for everyone. For you, for Neville, for Dobby, for Fred and even for Snape. I need to do this and I already have, but this time I have to do it right."
She didn't wait for her friend to say anything. It didn't matter what Harry or Remus said. She had chosen before she found the photo or spoke to them. Some might even say the choice was made a lifetime ago. It was merely a matter of finding out exactly how she was going to get there. Hermione didn't blame Harry, at least not more than she blamed Draco for his anger at the imprisonment of his father, Neville for his sorrow at his parents' madness or Minerva for her silence at everything. Remus for no longer being a proper father to Teddy. Everyone deals with their pain in their own way. And Harry's way, like Ron's, was lashing out.
She left the Room of Requirement and made her way to the Headmistress' office. It was better to get this done as soon as possible. She needed to rule out leads to figuring this blasted thing as quickly as she could. She did not believe her friend would try and stop her, or at least she hoped he wouldn't, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Remus was hot on her heels and grabbed the back of her jumper. "Let me speak to you first, would you?"
"What?" Hermione questioned, turning to face him. "Are you going to also tell me how horrible this idea is?"
"No, actually I am not… I came to tell you I think you're making the right choice and I hope it works out."
The familiar Gargoyle sat in front of the Headmistress' office the same as it had been for as long as Hermione could remember. Part of her worried that McGonagall would be there and part of her wished that she wouldn't be. Her stomach was twisted into knots. She shut her eyes and thought, 'I have to do this and I have to figure this out. I have a reasonable reason to be here if she asks and that's final.'
"I need to see the former Headmasters," Hermione said to the stone creature.
No response.
"Or maybe the Headmistress?" she asked, her tone far softer.
Surely if Professor McGonagall was in her office she would understand and possibly even help Hermione, or at least she hoped so. The Gargoyle slid to the side, leaving the doorway open for her to walk through. The office was empty, the same and different as it had been before. Gone were Dumbledore's Trinkets though the room had the same feel of it. The was the same desk, the same sofa, though the other details like the carpet and curtains were far less ghastly.
Part of Hermione could not help but wonder how much Minerva had gotten rid of herself or if Snape had been the one to do so. The very idea of him holding onto the objects that had been Dumbledore's treasures made her laugh, but wait… Why didn't she think of this before? Could it be? Could this compass have been something owned by Dumbledore before his death? Her gut told her that she possibly was on the right track, that she didn't need to speak to just any Headmaster, but Dumbledore himself.
Hermione stepped closer to the portraits. Most of them were sleeping and Snape's was empty still, besides the bloody compass and the chair on which it lay. She held out hers to compare it and she realized something that sent a chill down her spine -- they were the same, which made no sense. Not one bloody bit. Hermione needed to go to the library after this and that would be another place that could help her figure out what in the hell was going on with this darn thing.
She turned herself in the direction of the former Headmaster and she reached out to touch his frame, tapping it lightly with her index finger.
"Professor, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, as if it was a question more than a name.
The portrait did not wake up, it still sat in its chair sleeping, his beard moving with each snore he took. The man looked far more peaceful as a painting than he ever had been when he was alive, but that likely had to do with the fact that while he might carry some of the memories of Albus Dumbledore, he did not carry the pain connected to them or the shame. Thinking back to that time before the battle of Hogwarts, unfortunately this man had a rather bit of shame in his life, even if he had made the right choice in the end.
Not unlike people like Narcissa Malfoy, though part of Hermione wondered if the woman was even capable of shame. Thinking back to the shrill scolding looks Narcisa had given her at the woman's bloody trial. She had been trying to help her, and yet Narcissa Malfoy stared at her like she was nothing more than a roach under her high heeled shoe. The only reason why Hermione cared to help that family when she did this was for Draco not for Narcissa who bluntly said, "I have no regrets for what I have done and would do it all again."
But, it seemed saving the boy-who-lived was enough to clear anyone's name.
Hermione didn't know how to feel about that fact, but there was truly nothing she could do about it. She shoved it aside for things that were actually in her power to deal with.
"Headmaster, please for the love of Merlin, wake up."
Instead of Dumbledore, another portrait woke up. Phineas Nigellus Black as the man had once told her rather proudly, as if it was something she should already know. His clear blue eyes that reminded her so much of Sirius stared at her, sharply as if the man was looking at something he despised and was not happy to be awoken.
"What do you want, Mudblood?" he growled, crossing his arms over his chest, displeased with her very presence.
"I need to speak to Dumbledore," Hermione said.
"Really?" the former Headmaster asked. "Well it seems he's sleeping. Now, what is so important that you would want to wake him?"
Hermione thought for a second and then sighed as she pulled out the compass out of her pocket, holding it out for the former Headmaster to see.
"This is why I need to speak to him," she said. "I wonder if Headmaster Snape found it in Headmaster Dumbledore's things and was going to ask him about it."
She would not tell him the whole truth; she still didn't trust him after all these years.
"Well, that's rather interesting," he said. "Do you know what it does?"
"No, do you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Headmaster Black muttered. "Dippet, do you think we should tell her?"'
The other headmaster snapped awake, "What?" asked the man as the painting wiped sleep from his eyes. His dark grey robes were so unlike Dumbledore's.
"Should we tell the girl about the compass?" Black asked again, this time slightly flustered.
"What has already happened will happen no matter what," Dippet said, in a rather sleepy tone, as if he were rather bored with it all. "Time has no beginning and no end."
"So, the answer is?" he snapped, though quickly softened. "You know how much I hate it when you speak in riddles."
Dumbledore awoke then, steely blue eyes opening, sitting there in his bright purple robes with bloody gold stars on them. Hermione would never understand the man's rather garish taste, but it did bring her comfort to see him awake in at least some form -- even if it was not truly him.
"And yet you speak in them all the time," Albus said. "But, don't we all?"
"Are you an odd form of the Three Musketeers?" Hermione snapped, fighting the urge to tug at her curls. It would only make them more wild. "I just need to figure this out, okay?"
"Well then tell us the truth, girl, the whole truth," Black said, shifting in his armchair. "I know you're lying to us. I am not that bloody stupid. And you are not a good liar."
"Fine," she hissed, holding out the photo to show the three of them. "Does this answer your question?"
"Interesting," Dumbledore mused, looking over his half-moon glasses. "You know that you must go back then, don't you?"
"Why?" Hermione asked. "Why must I go back?"
"Because you already have," Dippet said. "If not now, time will pull you through to correct itself and it will not be pleasant, at least from my understanding. Thankfully I have never experienced it."
"You can't know that for sure," she shot back. "Surely it wouldn't."
Dumbledore shook his head and said, "No Dippet, she must go back because spring has to come again. She's got to save him and them. Winter must end."
"Save who? And how?" Hermione growled, very much tired of not being able to get a straight answer from any of the Headmasters. She felt like Echo from the Greek myths shouting into the bloody wind. "Can't you just tell me?" fighting the urge to tug at her own hair.
Dipet retorted, "what would the fun in that be? If I told you we might just end right up back here."
"He might still be around waiting for her to go back," Dumbledore said. "He did not inform any of us about his plan."
"Then I guess we will end up finding it out when she does go back," Black murmured.
"Well then, how do I get it to work?" Hermione questioned, a small part of her wanting to leave this room and forget any of this happened, but the fact was she unwilling to leave things as they were: Harry's haunted green eyes, Remus acting more like a ghost than a person, and everyone else. "To go back to the time before…"
Hermione looked out the windows onto the castle grounds, the lake and the forest behind it unchanged so very different from everything else at Hogwarts. That would at least be the same mostly, no matter where she ended up or at least she hoped that they would. It was like her lightning rod grounding her and giving her strength.
"Before the world went to hell, I assume?" Dippet asked, snapping her out of her thoughts. "To do that you would have to go back further than you did. Or at least I am guessing that, though I might be wrong."
"I have not gone back yet," she said.
"But, you already have," he said. "So what is your goal then, and do be clear about it when you tell me."
"To save as many of those who have been lost as I can," Hermione whispered. "Without changing what has come to pass nor changing Voldemort's defeat."
"Then hold on to it and think about that," Headmaster Black. "And it will take you there."
Hermione did what she was told and the world spun around her. It was like she was caught in a tornado; as if she were Dorothy going to the land of Oz. Though this wasn't some stupid fairytale, this was reality, this was real life and it could make a difference. Or at least she hoped it could.
Hermione landed on her knees, staring sharply at the crumbling sidewalk under her. The jagged concrete spoke far more about this area than just about anything else. Nice neighbourhoods took care of their sidewalks and poor ones let their roots go through them. It reminded her of the places that her parents had refused to allow her to visit. Good people didn't end up in places like that her father once said. She disagreed with him. The Weasleys were considered poor and they were good people. However, this wasn't the Potters home before the prophecy, and it wasn't Godric's Hollow either. Good people might live here, but not the Potters with how much money Harry had inherited from his parents. Either the compass did not work properly or maybe it had. It could just be that it couldn't take her near the house, maybe there wards were the reason. That had to be it.
But, didn't the three former Headmasters go on about what would have already happened? Bloody hell, she should have listened to them. Should have paid attention to them. Did that mean that there was no chance to change it? Could she simply turn on a heel, walking away from whatever this was? Would that change the past and the future? No, she wouldn't. This for whatever reason was where she was supposed to be. Something in the back of her mind was insisting on it. She didn't believe in the "this had already happened so it would happen again" or even really fate, but she did understand that sometimes whatever you were doing felt right like when Harry had saved her in the girl's bathroom and she had helped Neville find his toad.
Hermione looked up and pulled herself off the ground; dusting herself off. The ramshackle two up before her was crumbling, looking as if it would take one strong wind and it would be no more. Someone slammed the door open. Before Hermione stood a man who looked as if he was simply a teenager who had been stretched out. His limbs were long and lean. His body was rather narrow and all angles. His hair was inky black. His skin was sallow and sunless. His nose was sharp and beak-like. His eyes black as coals.
Snape, it was Severus Snape.
She knew she should have guessed sooner. Though it was like knowing exactly what something was, you simply could not find the words.
"You know this is a Muggle neighbourhood, don't you?" young Severus snarled, "and that it is illegal to use magic around them, or do you not care?"
"Severus?" Hermione asked. "What is the date?"
"Have you hit your head or something?" he questioned, his black eyebrows knitting together. Crossing his arms over his chest, clearly not pleased, and likely thinking she was nuts. "Speak up, because I haven't got all day."
"No, but if I told you the truth you would throw me in Saint Mungo's," she laughed, and thought about how crazy the truth was and this man likely wouldn't even believe her anyway or worse, he might. "Please, humour me? What is the date?"
"July 10th, 1982. Now, since I answered your question, you will answer some of mine."
Hermione's stomach dropped to her feet and her eyes filled with tears, she was too late to help them. She should have been more clear in her thoughts and now she did not know what she was going to do. Trying to go back further was her only option.
He pointed his wand at her as if he meant to use it. Snape was a Death Eater after all, or at least was one not too long ago. At this time he was already Dumbledore's man, but this wasn't something that could disappear easily. "Come along, we don't want the Muggles to see anything that they shouldn't, now, do we?"
"No, we don't," she muttered, wondering if it might have been better if she tried to run away after all.
The house looked just as bad on the inside as it did on the outside. Hermione knew that it must be magic that was holding it together, though to be truthful she couldn't even understand why.
'Surely he could go somewhere else? There had to be somewhere else. Severus could live at Hogwarts if nothing else, couldn't he?'
Yet here he was, living in this home that was twisted and held together with his very magic. The bookcases were overflowing with books, the carpet long ago might have been cream, though it looked more brown than anything at the moment. The stones of the fireplace were grey and abused, belonging in another time. They were easily older than Severus himself. There was a faded floral sofa, and an armchair that was one of the few new things in the home. The stairs to the second floor were ramshackle at best. The kitchen walls were painted a faded yellow as if someone was trying to desperately bring a little bit of sunshine into the depressing home. The cabinets looked more cream than the white they likely once were.
"You never did tell me your name and yet you know mine," Severus said, lighting a cigarette and taking a seat on the armchair.
"Hermione, my name is Hermione Jean Granger," she said softly, taking a seat on the sofa.
"Muggleborn then," he said. "Why are you here Ms. Granger? Surely Narcissa wouldn't send a Muggleborn to my doorstep; she wouldn't consider you worthy of marriage even to someone like me."
"No, I sent myself in a way, but somehow ended up in the wrong time-place," Hermione found herself stuttering out the last part, hoping he did not catch it. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, feeling a rather strange prickly feeling on the back of her neck. "I ended up in the wrong place."
He was trying to get into her mind, but maybe it was worth allowing him in to give him only the most basic details so he thought that he had gotten everything that he wanted.
"And where would that be?" Severus asked. She watched as his long potion stained fingers brought the cigarette to his lips. "Maybe I could help you get there. Surely you aren't from around here."
Hermione knew the man was toying with her, teasing her even. Long ago Dumbledore had suggested that they sort children into Hogwarts houses too soon, but she disagreed. This man was a Slytherin to his very core. A Gryffindor would just come out and say what they were thinking, while he seemed to be trying to play with her as if it were just a game of chess.
"I am from around here," she remarked. "I was born in…"
"Oxfordshire," he mused, his overly large nose wrinkling. "Your parents were dentists and then they moved to Australia?"
"I never told you either of those things," Hermione snapped, she had only wanted him to see the confirmation of what she was telling him, yet he was taking advantage of her gift and digging further into her mind. He dug in behind her walls, becoming rooted in the spot. His presence was both comforting but also unwelcomed. She shot back trying to push him out, "keep your overly large nose out of my mind, Snape."
"I wouldn't have to do that if you were bloody honest with me. Again, how do you know my full name? Or do I have to rip it out of you for myself?"
She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so, "You would do that, wouldn't you? Invade my mind like it was nothing."
"Says the person who lies with every single bloody breath," he hissed. "You're from the future, you came back trying to stop people from dying like Lily, and yet you ended up here with me instead."
"Yes," Hermione responded, giving up on trying to hide anything from him. Severus could simply pick it out of her mind at will if he wanted to.
"Well, I want to go with you, to go further back in time and to try to save her," Severus said, as he walked over closer to Hermione and sat down next to her. "To save Lily and to stop him."
"I don't know if that's a good idea…"
"Please!" he cried, grabbing both of her arms, shaking her slightly. "I have to do this. I have to try to save her, to try and save my friend. It's my fault the Dark Lord killed her. I know how he does things. If anyone can stop him, it's me. I can stop him if you allow me to go with you."
"What about James and Harry?" Hermione growled. "Do you not care about them? They can die for all you care? They are people too. And I might never have been a mother, but if I know anything, a mother would not be able to live without her child."
"We can save them all then!" Severus spluttered, clearly not even bothering to think. He too was taking a leap of faith. His emotions were like a cauldron bubbling just under the surface. This Severus Snape was not the tight controlled man who had taught her years ago. Time was a fickle mistress, but in this time it had only been what, a year now since the death of the Potters?
Merlin, it felt like it had been decades and yet Hermione had pet fish live longer than that. Hermione knew in her gut this man shouldn't join her, he would try to twist the past to make the future something else, but he also was likely one of the only people besides Dumbledore who could truly figure out how to work the compass.
Hermione felt it then, a cat rubbing against her legs, and it shocked her. Snape wasn't the type to own a pet. She reached for the animal, picking it up. She was a rather large black cat with warm brown eyes.
"Well hello to you," she said, petting the grumpy looking creature's smooth coat. "I didn't expect you would be the type to have a pet," She told Severus.
"Ivy is my mother's cat. I am just taking care of her for her," Severus bristled. "But we have far more important things to talk about. Would you show me how you got here?"
"Yes," Hermione responded, digging out the compass and handing it to him. Not realizing that she also handed him the photograph as well.
Severus snatched it before Hermione even noticed it had fallen to the floor. He clutched it tightly, his fingers brushing against the faces of the people in the photos.
"Well, that changes things now, doesn't?" he asked.
"No, it doesn't," she snapped, trying to steal the photo back from him. Not unlike Hermione had done with Harry not too long ago. But, unlike Harry who was average height if you were being kind and short if you were not, Severus was not; he towered over her holding both the photo and compass above his head. Hermione knew she should have left it in the future, but she didn't and now she was going to have to pay for it.
"The future isn't set in stone if that's what you are worried about. I can't imagine how in the world I would ever fall in love with someone like you."
Hermione growled, "I can't either." She knew that the future wasn't set in stone but the past was. "And we have bigger things to worry about beyond a stupid photo." She finally distracted him enough that he lowered the photo down and she could grab it from his hands.
She held it tightly, not knowing if she wanted the future that was in that photo now that she had met young Severus. He was very little like the man she once knew. Same sullen nature, but he was all the brighter. As if he had yet to give in to the fact that life was not fair. She shut her eyes and sighed, sitting back on the couch. Hermione lied to herself, but even she could not believe it, that she didn't want that life. That they were just the foolish thoughts of a lonely person who had the pause button pushed on her life for years. Severus was the same as he always was and that was just the way it was. He would one day become the horrible person she knew and there was nothing she could do to change that.
"So…" he trailed off, not finishing the sentence."We should get started on trying to figure out how this thing works?"
"We should."
Severus cleared his throat and stared at her as if he were trying to figure something about her out. Hermione was unwilling to think of the other option, though her face did heat up against her will.
He sighed and tugged at his hair, long enough that it fell around his shoulders. "I will go grab some books to start and put on a pot of tea, it might take a while."
Hermione nodded and stared at her hands. Maybe she should have thought this over more, come up with a plan, but Hermione wasn't a Gryffindor in name only. Not bothering to look where you were leaping was a base character trait of them all. It was going to be an interesting life, but at least she wouldn't have to face Lavender's scarred face at dinner, Harry's displeasure, or the overwhelming feelings of depression and doom.
'That was small kindness, wasn't it? At least and that was something to be grateful for.'