Hermione woke up to a woman holding a wand in her face.
"Who are you?" The woman hissed. Her long hair hung down her back; it was a blue-black streaked with grey. Her hands weathered from a lifetime of work, and her wand was ebony wood. The colour of a night sky, knotted, and twisted to the left at a slight angle. "Answer me, you daft creature!"
Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes. It was far too early for this; the telly played in the background. She had left it on the night before to drown out her rambling thoughts. One of her father's favourite movies was on at the moment, playing in the background: The Life of Brian. It was ridiculous slapstick humour. However, for the first time in a long time, she wanted to laugh at it, the woman who was threatening her, and in general the whole ruddy situation. Weeks had passed since she had arrived on Severus Snape's doorstep, and the way to get the compass to work still eluded them both.
She sat up and sighed. "I am going to assume you are Eileen, yes?"
"Yes," Snape's mother snapped, the tip of her wand lowering slightly, though she didn't put it down.
"My name is Hermione, and I am a friend of sorts of Severus. I am guessing he didn't let you know that I was here?"
"He did not." The other witch's wand still did not waver. Ever the Slytherin, it seemed as if the traits had long ago been seared into their bones and blood. It was not bravery but a willingness to strike back against others.
Hermione ran her fingers through her hair and then yanked the tie of her wrist, twisting her untamed ringlets into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. It did not make her hair calmer but did get it out of her face.
"Would you like me to prove it or something?" she asked, fighting the urge to reach for her wand. "Or would you prefer just to blow my bloody head off?"
"Tell me something an enemy of my son wouldn't know?" Eileen questioned. "And maybe then I might believe you."
"Your son was friends with Lily Evans, and while they were close, he was not in love with her."
Eileen shoved her wand in the pocket of her skirt, took a seat next to Hermione, and crossed her ankles. "I did not expect anyone to be here; my son is not one for company, to put it bluntly. Severus and I have a deal, I go away for the summer on holiday, so he can deal with less savoury types away from Hogwarts and not have to pay for a flat that he would not use the rest of the year. For better or worse, my son is very tight with his money, sometimes to his detriment, but it is not my place to judge. Anyway, it allows me to see places I would never have dreamed of visiting, let alone for the whole summer."
The woman seemed to be far more talkative than her son had ever dreamed of being. She reminded Hermione of Pansy. It wasn't that shocking though. They had a similar background and for all Hermione knew, they were distantly related. It was easier just not to think about how close the pureblood families exactly were. Maybe the war would change that, if not the generation that she was from, but the one after it. Change was rarely a quick snap of your fingers when it was for the better, but like the waves crashing into the shore that took away the sand bit by bit.
Beyond that, it was odd to think of the Snape that she knew as a man who sent his mother on vacation each summer to far-flung places, and protecting her in the process more than likely, but then how did he keep her safe during the rest of the year? Was it even her place to ask, or would she be stepping on their toes? Though truly, did it matter? Did she need to know this bit of information? Unlikely.
There had been no progress made when it came to the compass. It was still just as useless as it had been weeks ago. Part of what stopped Hermione from doing anything with it was the worry that if she tried to force it to work she would break it, or even worse, she might bounce herself back to the time of the dinosaurs. That all she had done or tried to do would lead her to be eaten by a creature that was long dead before she had even been born. The very thought of it made her want to bury the compass in Snape's back garden and forget it ever existed. Time travel was somewhat complicated, even to her, who had dealt with it twice now. But if the photo was true then she wouldn't do that.
Part of her wanted to fight it. She knew she could make a life for herself here, whether in the Muggle or Wizarding world; it did not matter in the end. They were the same in the sense that she would be very, very alone. That she could leave behind Hermione Jean Granger and all of the things that name meant. To allow herself to become merely another face in the crowd. She had no friends in this world, or that's what it felt like. Severus only saw her as a means to an end, which was fine, she felt the same about him, or so she told herself. When it came down to it things were far more complex than she was willing to admit. Hermione liked him. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Sometimes she dreamed about him. About them having a life together, and sometimes she wished she didn't have to wake up. She felt more alive in those dreams than in this reality as odd as it might sound.
Eileen tapped her foot against the floor and snapped Hermione from her thoughts. She blurted, "That's nice." But then she quickly realised what the woman had said just moments ago had long since been buried under her thoughts, the ones that had haunted her for the last few weeks, all of which she had thought over and bloody over again. "I am sorry for zoning out on you."
"It's fine," the old witch laughed, though the tone was slightly off. "Now, would you like some tea? Unless you and my son drank it all and didn't buy any more? Though my first question for you that I want answered is, why are you wearing my clothes?"
Hermione opened and shut her mouth, but no sound came out.
"Answer me, child, and stop gaping your mouth like a bloody fish. Though you already answered another question: you are surely not a pureblood because a well-raised witch would not behave in such a manner."
Hermione had not thought much about her clothing, the floral house dress that was both too long and too tight. Severus had offered to adjust the items he had given her temporarily, though she refused. It would cause them to break down over time, and they were not hers to allow that to happen, so they stayed that way, as ill-fitting as they were. He also pushed her to go with him to get things of her own, but once more, she was unwilling to. In her opinion, to buy clothes was admitting that she was stuck here and her mission had failed. She might as well be a thousand years in the future because 1982 was never going to be 1981. She imagined how she must look; her curls were more brillo pad than romantic painting, grey wool socks, and a jumper that belonged to Severus, but she wouldn't admit she liked that. It smelled like him, that deep woodsy smell and something that was rather masculine. Very unlike the prim and proper witch that seemed to be trying to put the pieces together of who exactly she must be and why Severus hadn't told her about his guest.
Eileen stomped over and shut off the telly, slapping the button harshly. The silence was even louder than the laughter before it. "Are you pregnant or something? Because if that's the case, we can do something about it. Severus has his hands in both pots as it were; it's not safe for you no matter what side you are on. It's not my place to say it, but if you know about that Evans girl, you know at least a bit of it, at least I assume that you do."
"I am not pregnant! And I know quite a bit about it," Hermione muttered, popping knuckles as she did. "I am wearing your clothes because…"
'Should I tell her or should I not?' The thoughts twisted in her mind like someone ringing out sheets before putting them on the line. 'Would Eileen Snape be willing to keep my secrets like her son was? Why had the man not told me about his mother still living here at least part of the year? It was most likely due to the fact he believed that they would be gone before she came home, but that wasn't the case, and he was not here to tell me what to do or what choice to make.'
It was all on Hermione's narrow shoulders and yet everything also seemed like it was spinning out of control, but all she could do was watch it happen. The act of telling another person would be taking a bit of control back more than anything else.
"How about I make the pot of tea, Hermione?" Eileen asked. "Then you can tell me all about it, doesn't that sound like a plan? And from the way you are looking, it's going to be a long answer. Those are best had with tea, don't you agree?"
"Yes," Hermione said, deciding at that moment she would be honest with the elder Snape. She could not come up with any lies to tell her, though maybe that was a good thing. She sat there looking down at the carpet under her feet, the worn-out threads and old stains of a lifetime or likely many of them. She didn't know why, but she felt safer around the old witch than she had anyone in a long time. There was nothing that Eileen wanted from Hermione besides answers, which was something that she could easily give.
The kettle whistled, and a few moments later Eileen came back into the sitting room, teacups in hand. She placed one of them in front of Hermione and took her seat next to her. Unlike her son, the witch didn't seem to care about sharing space with others. If anything, she took up space, making others put up with her being near them.Hermione guessed Eileen, contrary to Severus, was used to being liked by others. Severus was like a leper, an unwanted man, who seemed to enjoy pushing away others just as they did to him. However, it was something the older professor did not have in common with this younger version. Eileen did not flee to the corners of the room; instead she was right next to her and not in the chair by the fire. But they had in common that the professor snatched your attention and held onto it like nothing else, just as his mother was doing now.
"What is it that ties you and my son together?" Eileen questioned, taking a sip of her tea after she spoke. "Because while he is many things, generous to strangers is not one of them, at least not without reason. So, what do you mean to him or what does he want from you?"
"It's a long story…"
"Well, then do us both a favour and start telling it." The witch pulled out a cigarette and lit. It seemed that's where Severus must have learned his lousy habit.
Hermione once more considered lying to Eileen, but then quickly decided against it again. So she told her nearly everything starting from the very beginning. She told her about the prophecy, about the war, about the compass, but she did hold back the future that Severus faced, the one that would lead to his death. No mother deserved to know such things about her son. He had done many things and would do many more in his life, but he was also Eileen Snape's son. When Hermione finished, the tea had long since gone cold, and she had finally given into Eileen's offer of a cigarette. The darn things caused her to cough but helped with an ache she didn't even know she had.
Eileen fingered the photograph with a nicotine-stained nail after Hermione handed it to her. The old witch traced the faces with gentle movements but did not say anything. The staining of her fingers spoke to the fact she was a long time smoker. This addiction seemed to be her bad habit and Hermione did her best not to judge her. Eileen just continued to smoke as she took in the details. She didn't say anything and handed the photograph back. Not long after, when Hermione had finished, Eileen simply stared down at her teacup; this one was a bright teal.
'Did she pick up a sea-themed set of cups long ago?' Hermione wondered silently. 'Or did she simply pick up the ones that were on sale?' Either way, they were a very unSnape like thing to have, and that made her smile. Eileen was very different from her son, even if they looked very much alike.
Eileen snapped her out of her thoughts, "Well, that must have been hard for you, Hermione, to live through while you were so young."
"You don't think I am crazy?" Hermione asked. "That you would be best to toss me in the Janus Thickey Ward and throw away the key?"
"I believe you because my son believes you. I do not think that you would be here if he didn't, and you would have to be a rather horrible person to make all of that up. Though I could be very wrong, and this is all a fantasy that you made up."
"I think it would have to be a nightmare, to be honest, if I had," Hermione muttered. "But, it's true as anything ever has or will be."
"Now, what do you plan to do about it?" Eileen questioned, setting her teacup aside. "Because something tells me you have a plan, but who knows? I might be wrong."
"The plan is to try to fix the compass and then go back to try to save the Potters." She cried, wondering why the other woman was asking that.
Eileen deadpanned. "And how well is that going?" She lit another cigarette, and the smoke danced around her, filling the air with its pungent odour.
"Do you have any better ideas?" Hermione asked, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Because I have nothing else at this point." She clutched the compass, holding it tightly to her chest.
"Can I see that?" Eileen asked, reaching out for it before Hermione could even get a word out. "If you don't mind, that is."
Hermione flipped the compass back and forth in her hands while her stomach did the same. She handed it to the older witch after a moment with much worry. This object was her key for what she had come into the past to do, if only she could find a lock to stick it in. Hermione watched Eileen on bated breath as the woman gently examined the compass with great care. Her reaction was so very different than it had been with Harry and even Severus. Eileen was thoughtful about it, which settled the nervousness that nearly radiated off of Hermione. Eileen handed the compass back to her, not speaking as she did. Then she began to uncomfortably shift as if she had wanted to say something but did not know exactly what to say.
"Thank you," Hermione murmured, tucking a curl behind her ear. She fought the urge to hide the compass. She knew pretty well if Eileen would have wanted to steal it she already would have done so. "But if you do have ideas, I am all ears."
"I don't think you're going anywhere anytime soon."
"It will work… I would not be here if it weren't capable of working…" Hermione trailed off, she looked down at her own hands, and they were shaking. In the past few weeks she had bitten most of her fingernails to the quick. She added, "It has to."
"Surely you of all people know better than that," Eileen snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "Magic doesn't owe you anything, Hermione. It does not owe any of us anything. It's like nature, the ocean, or even the sky. It's wild, powerful, and deep. It does what it wants to, and we can either go with it, or it will drown you. We don't control it any more than we can control a hurricane, it is something that just is. Wands allow us to borrow it, but it's a conditional thing, and you seem to be experiencing that now."
"No, that's not what I have read. Magic does not have free will. It's like lighting a match, nothing more and nothing less," she said softly and stared down at the floor. Part of her wished that she could melt into it like the wicked witch had done, but without the screaming, of course.
"Just because you read it in a book does not make it true," Eileen grumbled. "Merlin, you sound like my son. The books say this, and the book says that. Child, I know this might be hard to hear, but people wrote books, and they like the people who wrote them are not infallible. They are not always right as much as you and Severus seem to believe they are."
"I am not a child!" Hermione snarled. "I know that books aren't always right, but that doesn't mean they are wrong either."
"You are a Muggleborn," the old witch said, sighing as she did.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not, but it does affect how you view magic and how it works. Just like my son, you grew up in this world for your formative years," Eileen waved her hand about and her cigarette along with it. "The Muggle world has so many good things in it. However, it fails in teaching people to think outside the box. To see the world in all its shade of many colours. Don't you start, you can disagree with me all you want, but it does not change the fact that the bloody compass is not doing what you want it to and it might never do it."
Her words were like a bucket of ice being dumped on Hermione. It felt as if someone had dug into her chest and tried to do their very best to remove her heart. She was left speechless, something that felt rather odd to her. She cried, "You can't know that for sure, it could work again!"
"And you cannot be sure that it will work one day either."
Hermione tried her best to recover from that mental blow and to get back to what mattered most, Where to go from here?
As if Eileen could hear her thoughts, the woman answered, "We have to do something to explain why you are here. I forgot to ask, just how old are you?"
"I am twenty-four," she said. "I could just try and get a job and such… It might not exactly be something I enjoy, but it would work until I either get back to my own time, or the time I need to. I surely don't want to spend the rest of my life in this house."
"That isn't going to work."
"You can't know that for sure. It could work out… I mean, it's not like it has to be the job of my dreams; it just has to be something to get me by."
"You didn't graduate Hogwarts in this time, though you might be able to explain not having your NEWTs; the same can not be said about OWLs, though. For your age, you were required to at least take four of them. I doubt anyone will end up believing someone who clearly isn't dumb failed all of them. Which either means you were schooled somewhere else, or you were homeschooled, both of which would have proof of such. That isn't even taking into consideration your age and the fact you aren't yet married."
"What does it matter that I am not married?" Hermione asked, discomfort and anger twisting in her stomach like nothing ever had before. Her mother had been a feminist to her very core, raising her with the understanding she had every right to do whatever she wanted, within reason, of course. That marriage and or relationships did not define her existence. That there was no glass ceiling she could not break, if only she put her mind to it. But Eileen Snape was not like that. The woman had surely been raised to be a mother, a wife, and a homemaker. A life that would be tied to others, a life that Hermione thought was not wholly her own.
"It matters because it is the norm in our world. People will begin to ask questions of those who stick out like a sore thumb. You happen to do that already, and the only way we can fix that is to change it."
"You want me to get married?" she cried out. "Who and how? I don't have to marry anyone who I do not want." Hermione growled the last part out, her frame shaking as she did so. Part of her wanted to bolt out of this room, this house, this time, and forget any of it had ever happened and would ever end up happening. That this life was all a bad dream, and yet she could not seem to wake up from it.
"You don't, but you do have to blend in if you don't want to end in Azkaban or worse. Do you know what happens to people who mess with time? They are taken out. Wizarding folks hold time travel as one of the greatest and most dangerous things we can access in this world. And you, Hermione Jean Granger, have clearly and thoroughly messed with time."
Hermione sighed and took three deep breaths trying to settle herself. 'This would be okay. Everything would be okay once she got the compass to work. All that mattered was getting there, and then she could figure everything else out. It was simply a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and trying to survive.'
Part of her mind knew that wasn't the case, but it was all Hermione had to cling to, and she could not let go of it.
"I think you should marry my son," Eileen said, lighting another cigarette. "It would solve both of your problems. It would also mean that we could explain away why you are here and your lack of proof when it comes to your education."'
The very idea of marrying a man she did not love, and who possibly didn't even like her was utter insanity. Not even because Severus was a man with a sword hanging over his head. It happened to be relatively high up, but it did matter that it was still three. Death is something that everyone would face; however, it was pretty different from marrying a man she knew the exact time when he would die. But she couldn't say that to Eileen. Hermione was unwilling to make the other woman carry that same burden of knowledge. More so when it came to her son. She had wished at times over the past few weeks that she could forget it, but beyond pulling it out of her mind, there wasn't much she could do about it.
So instead, Hermione decided to do what she could to change Eileen's mind. "Why in the world would Severus agree to marry me?"
"Because you are one of the only people on either side besides myself and Albus Dumbledore he trusts. And because of that photograph you seem to clutch as if your very life depends on it," Eileen muttered. "My son is lonely. I am sure you can see that, can't you? I know he was part of the reason you came back, isn't he? You smile when you talk about him. I can see it in your eyes that you care about him, and don't you deny it."
"Possibly… But that isn't a reason to marry someone. Marriage is about love and wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone."
The old witch continued as if she had not heard her, "And anyway, not every marriage is a love match; sometimes it grows after a while. My parents barely knew each other when they were married, yet they spent seventy years together. It's rather common in the wizarding world after all."
"That doesn't mean it's good." Hermione sighed and shook her head. She knew Severus wouldn't agree. He barely tolerated her at most and had not yet kicked her out on her arse because he wanted to save Lily Potter. That was it, nothing less and nothing more. "Fine, but you have to be the one to tell Severus."
Eileen rubbed Hermione's arm and smiled at her like she had won.
Ivy leapt onto the coffee table and stared at them. She reminded Hermione of Crookshanks down to how the creature seemed to want to be a part of everything. She reached out and scratched the cat under her chin, "That's a good girl," she murmured.
"I think you have made a friend," Eileen said. "Severus barely tolerates her, but then he's always been more interested in owls. Goes on about how they have a purpose. I disagree; cats have a purpose: to remind you that you are not as smart as you think you are."
"True," Hermione said, continuing to stroke the cat who arched into her touch and started to purr. "I used to have a cat a long time ago, but I sent Crookshanks away with my parents during the war. It was safer for him, and I think it was my way to give them a piece of me even if I never got to see them again."
The other witch ignored her and continued, "Now, Hermione, I understand my clothes might be comfortable, but you do need some of your own. I have to wear them, and they don't fit you. It's another part of blending in; a witch of your age would have some of her own clothing, regardless of how wealthy her background was. If you want to, we can order them by owl or get them in person. You just have to have some, understood?"
"Yes, I do." She decided to just go along with the witch; surely Eileen would make her do it anyway, whether or not Hermione agreed. She would just pick out a few things, the bare minimum and just enough to get by. Though it prickled like a thorn in the back of her mind that Eileen was trying to play matchmaker. What she wanted was unlikely to happen, but she did not realise Hermione was a Gryffindor and would push back until she was blue in the face.
"You want me to bloody marry her?!" Severus shouted as he paced back and forth across the sitting room floor, looking too much like the ill-tempered professor he would one day become. Eileen had confronted him as soon as he stepped out of the floo, not even giving him time to change. "Have you lost all of your good sense, mother, or did Narcissa get to you?"
Eileen deadpanned, "She did not get to me, and I happen to have all my marbles, thank you very much. I am not a day over fifty-two, boy, which happens to be middle-aged for a witch and don't you dare forget it. But speaking of Mrs Malfoy, she's part of the reason you should marry the girl. People are starting to ask questions and you can't keep making excuses; someone will start putting the pieces together… You are, after all, the last male heir of the Prince family, for Merlin's sake. People like us marry, and whether either of you like it or not, wizarding folks marry young, at least in most cases."
"Disowned," he shot back as he pointed at himself, smiling sarcastically. "But you should know all about that; it's what you got for marrying a bloody Muggle." After a moment, he added, "Granger, that Muggle was a bastard and magic wouldn't have fixed that."
"No offense taken," Hermione sighed, desperately wishing she could vanish from the room or had an invisibility cloak. Mother and son seemed no better than a bag of angry cats someone decided to shake up. "I am going to get a glass of water." She fled to the kitchen before either of the other people in the room could respond and tried to do her very best to ignore the snarky comments they were throwing at each other. They were a rather bit like Ron and Harry during the Triwizard Tournament, but without treating her like an owl.
She kept reminding herself that it could be so much worse, though it did not change the situation. She opened a cabinet and went up on her toes reaching for a glass, but someone snatched it before she could get a hand on it.
'Why do I love this man?' she thought. 'Somehow when I was not watching he weaseled his way into my heart. They were one in the same in many ways and that was quite an odd feeling.'
She wanted a life with him but she did not have the courage to voice it just yet.
"Hey," Hermione snapped. "I don't need your help to do basic things; thank you very much."
Severus simply raised a single eyebrow and handed her the glass without a word, their fingers brushing against one another as they did. His touch sent shivers up and down her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Hermione took a deep breath and shut her eyes. After a moment, she opened them and softly sighed as she did. She walked over to the sink, turned on the faucet, filled the glass with water and took a large sip afterwards. She shut off the tap and tried to ignore the fact Severus was staring at her.
"You're like an angry, disgruntled cat, do you know that?" Hermione asked, turning to face him, but honestly didn't expect an answer. "Lurking around and giving people angry looks. I know you are not normally this bad, so what's wrong?"
Severus crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, "I despise teaching."
"Then why do you do it?"
"Dumbledore."
Hermione sighed and took another sip of water, "You can spy for him when he needs it without terrorising a bunch of bloody school children."
"Well, he doesn't agree with you," he said rather sharply, tugging at his hair. "So, if I want not to get fed to the wolves or thrown in Azkaban I have to teach them. It pays pretty well, which also helps."
She fought the urge to roll her eyes, "And yet the fact is students learn better when professors like their jobs."
"It's potions, Hermione, not bloody charms. No one likes it unless they are a fool, crazy or know-it-alls." He turned away from her, getting a glass of water for himself.
"So what does that make you?"
"I happen to be all three," Severus laughed, his tone bitter and jaded. "You?"
"All three as well," Hermione said and stepped forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Now, can we talk honestly about your mother's suggestion?"
"Why do you want to marry me?" he questioned. "I am neither kind nor pleasant or someone who you want to spend the rest of your life with." Severus turned back to face her and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "And we both know I am not going to see the other side of this war."
She reached out, fiddling with the tiny black buttons of Severus' robes. "As you once told me, Severus Snape? The future isn't set in stone. We can change it, and maybe this is how we do it."
"Or maybe this is how we end up in that photo."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" Hermione asked, looking up into his eyes as she did. They reminded her of the deepest and darkest bottomless pits, yet they were beautiful. There was something about him that drew her in something she did not totally understand. "We look happy in it. All of us. I am tired, okay? Tired of pretending part of me doesn't want that future, to give it a chance to happen. When we went shopping, your mother told me about how the pureblood wizarding world is, how the dark families are. No matter what you think, Harry will need you when he goes to Hogwarts, and you can't do that if some random low-level Death Eater starts digging into your life a little closer. Suppose they decide to use you as some sort of power play to get what they want. Maybe this is why I was supposed to come back. If we can't get the compass working and can't give him back his parents, I can do my part to ensure he's protected once he goes to Hogwarts. It doesn't have to be forever, Severus, and if we hate each other we can divorce and forget it ever happened. I don't care what people think of me."
"You would be giving your life away to protect mine," he murmured, shutting his eyes as he did. "You should not have to do that."
"It has already been done. I gave away my life when I ended up here. I am a Gryffindor, which means I am a fall-on-my-sword type, but then so are you."
"You are wrong, Hermione. I am not like that…"
"Someone once told me so very long ago that the world isn't split into good people and Death eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on in our lives. That's who we really are," she said softly, her hands slipping up to the back of his neck and her fingers twisting nto his hair. "You once made the wrong choices, and now you're making some of the right ones, but I still wish you wouldn't teach."
"Life is about doing at times things you don't want to. Some people get to spend their years doing what they love, but not everyone gets that. Part of me thinks I should send you away, tell you to find someone else, and be done with you. It would be the right thing to do, and yet I don't want to do that. My mother, you, Narcissa, Remus, and even Dumbledore… He told me today to find someone to spend my life with, someone who would understand. I think without knowing about it, he was talking about you."
Hermione rose up onto her toes and pulled Severus to her. He gave into her touch, leaning down and crashing their lips together. Part of her wondered if they were just two lonely people who seemed to have gotten lost in lives that were not what either of them had ever planned. His tongue pressed against her lips, asking for entrance, his hands wrapped around her hips, feeling like hot iron sinking into her skin. She pressed a thumb to his cheekbone, feeling the rough stubble. Severus pulled away from her, his breath coming in sharp puffs, only to pull Hermione into another kiss a moment later.
The sound of a cough caused them to pull away from one another and left them both looking rather sheepish.
"Well, it seems you two have skipped growing to like one another and jumped straight into trying to suck each other's faces off," Eileen laughed. "Though you could have fooled me with how you both have been acting."
Hermione's cheeks grew hot with shame, and Severus averted his eyes, staring at the tile floor like he was trying to find the meaning of the universe there.
"Ahh, to be young and in love. Or, in the case of the two of you, it might be more infatuation than love. But it doesn't matter either way now, does it?"
"Mother," Severus groaned. "Don't sneak up on people and then blame them for what you saw."
"Fine, fine, I will leave you be. But be good, both of you." With that, Eileen was gone, taking a glass of water with her.
Hermione did not know what to think of either of them, but for a short while she forgot about everything; the things that had long seemed so important were now distant and less sharp. The wounds of the past were not healed, and they might never be, but they had finally started to scab over.
'Could I have a life here?' She wondered, 'a happy one? Like the one in that photo? Can I make a difference here? Maybe I will not save the Potters, but I can help Severus and all those still around. Maybe some things did have to happen, and others did not. Can I argue with time? Can I agree with it? Would it allow me to steal a tiny bit of life back, or would it not let you have such things? Time, it seemed, was a rather tricky thing.'
But there she stood with Severus in the kitchen, her hands shoved deep into her pockets. This place was comfortable and safe. A thought struck her, feeling as if someone had slapped her. Severus would die young and during the war: she had seen it. She had been there, yet she was unwilling to give up, give in, or simply go along with the flow. She was going to fight fate. She was Hermione Jean Granger, after all, and nothing was ever going to change that.
Time could only fight back so much. At some point it would have to give in.