Chapter 6

When Ginny sees the handwriting on the scroll Hermione is removing from the owl's leg, the redhead's lips tighten and she stabs a sausage so hard it goes flying off her plate.

"Oi, Ginny!" says Althea Torres, into whose lap the sausage rolled.

"Sorry," Ginny mutters, as Hermione slips the letter into her bag to read later. "It's okay, Mione. You can read it here. I know he's still your friend. It's not your fault he'd rather be with a Death Eater slag twice his age than me." Ginny stands, leaving her breakfast mostly untouched, and walks out of the Great Hall.

Hermione winces. She probably should have sat at the eighth year table instead of with the Gryffindors. Ginny's the only one in her old House she's really friends with. She barely knows Torres and the other seventh years, and the younger Gryffindors even less. At the eighth year table, Susan and the Ravenclaws are sitting at one end, with Malfoy alone at the other. She takes another bite of her toast and a sip of tea, then pulls out Harry's letter.

Hermione,

Ron still won't speak to me, which makes things bloody awkward in Auror training. George is the only one of the Weasleys who will, but he says he'll deny it under Veritaserum if anyone asks. I'm grateful that you're still speaking to me—especially since it's my fault you and Ron broke up—but I know you're disappointed in me. I don't blame you. I'm disappointed in me, too.

Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I wasn't thinking at all, which was the problem. Cissy was just so…I don't know…so glamorous and sexy and…and I just didn't think.

But now I'm thinking I made a huge mistake. She—Cissy, I mean—doesn't seem as, well, as into me as she used to. It's like she's getting bored, or I'm getting on her nerves, or something. I think she's going to break up with me.

I know, I know, that's what everyone wants to happen, both because you all hated her in the first place, and now because of what a shit I was to Ginny. I deserve to be publicly dumped, I suppose.

I'm going to stop whingeing and sign off now. Thanks for listening, and for still being my friend.

Love,

Harry

Hermione folds the letter and puts it in her bag, then takes a bite of her toast. Poor Harry. She knows he brought all this on himself, but she still feels sorry for him. Maybe she'll write to Neville and ask him to look in on Harry.

She checks the time. Half an hour before the Arithmancy tutorial, just enough to stop by the library and pick up a couple of books. She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks towards the door, exchanging a smile with Luna, who is sitting on her own at the far end of the Ravenclaw table.

Madam Pince's desk is empty when Hermione enters the library. The door to her small office is open a crack, and Hermione can hear voices coming from inside.

"Would you leave off, already, Mum," says a man's voice that Hermione would swear, if she didn't know better, belonged to Professor Snape. "I've told you a dozen times already that I don't want to be hung in Minerva's bloody office, even if the Governing Board does decide that I should be."

"Of course you should be, love. Every former Headmaster has a right to be," Madam Pince's voice says. Former Headmaster? Could it actually be Snape? And if it is, why is the librarian calling him love? And why did he call her Mum?

"Not Headmasters appointed by the fucking Dark Lord."

"Severus!" Pince says in her Stern Librarian Voice. "I will not tolerate that kind of language in my library!"

"Then put me in a closet somewhere. Or, better yet, get the turpentine and put me out of my misery. With any luck, that's what the Governing Board will decide to do."

"Miss Granger."

Hermione practically jumps out of her skin when she hears Professor Vector's voice behind her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Vector says, then turns to Madam Pince, who has emerged from her office. Only is it Madam Pince? The eyes that look out from behind the librarian's horn-rimmed glasses are dark rather than blue. Her nose is a little more hooked than it was, her skin slightly paler. Her graying black hair and thin lips are the same. She is Madam Pince, but also not.

"Here's that book you wanted, Septima," Pince says, picking up a heavy volume bound in dark brown leather. Her voice is the same, anyway.

"Thanks, Eileen," Vector replies.

Eileen? Hermione glances down at the nameplate on the desk, which no longer reads Irma Pince, but Eileen Prince.

"You're going to be getting a lot of that, I imagine," Vector says.

"I imagine I will," the librarian replies, then looks at Hermione. "Do you need something, Miss Granger?"

Hermione forces herself not to look at the office door. "No, Madam…Prince?" She follows Vector out of the library and the two witches walk together toward the Arithmancy classroom. "Why didn't Headmistress McGonagall say anything at the opening feast?" Hermione asks.

"Eileen didn't want her to. She said it was because she didn't want people making a fuss, but I think it's because she has a wicked sense of humor and likes seeing people get that look on their faces that you just got."

"Was she wearing a Glamour, then?"

Vector nods. "Filius created a charmed necklace that anchored it."

"So, all these years she's been hiding in plain sight?" Hermione wonders about the Marauders' Map. Did Dumbledore have to charm it to keep the librarian's real name from appearing? She'll have to ask Flitwick if he knows.

"Yes. She'd have become a target immediately if Severus's true loyalty had ever been discovered."

Hermione nods, and continues walking silently beside Vector. She's not sure which was more disconcerting, hearing Snape call the librarian Mum, or hearing him say fuck. When they reach the classroom, Vector goes to her desk and Hermione sits in the desk next to Malfoy's and leans towards him. "I know where Snape is," she whispers.

Malfoy's brows lift.

"Pince's office." She looks around at the other students, who are paying no attention to them. "Or, should I say, Prince's office?"

"Prince?"

"Eileen Prince, who has been wearing a Glamour and calling herself Irma Pince all these years."

"Are you taking the piss, Granger?"

"No. We can go to the library after classes and you can see for yourself."

"Severus, love, look who's here to see you," Eileen Prince says, ushering Draco and Granger into her office. She lays her hand on Draco's arm. "Severus was always so fond of you when you were a little boy."

Snape's portrait looks as though it's eaten something that's gone off, though of course portraits can't eat.

"I was wondering where you were," Draco says to the portrait.

"Well," Snape's portrait sneers, "wonder no more."

Draco hesitates, not sure if this portrait actually is his godfather or not. He's never been entirely sure how portrait magic works. Granger doesn't seem at all uncomfortable, but he supposes she's already read about fourteen books on the subject.

"How are you, Professor?" Granger asks.

Snape rolls his eyes. "I am dead, Miss Granger. As you can see."

"Severus! Be nice," Eileen admonishes before returning to her desk in the main entry of the library.

"Obviously, sir," Granger says, "and I'm very sorry about that, but—"

"Did you kill me, Miss Granger?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why are you apologizing?" Snape turns to Draco. "Is this really necessary?"

Draco isn't sure whether he means the visit itself, or merely bringing Granger along. Before he can decide how to answer, Granger plows ahead. "I was hoping you could help me with something, Professor."

Snape heaves an exaggerated sigh. "Of course you were, Miss Granger."

Granger's mouth tightens and her eyes narrow a bit, but her expression returns quickly to neutral. Interesting. She was always so easy to wind up before. "It's about reversing a memory charm," she says. When the portrait neither prompts her to go on nor interrupts, she relates the story of her parents, and what she's done so far to try to reverse the spell. Her narrative is succinct and unemotional. Draco isn't sure he could be quite so matter-of-fact if it were his parents.

Snape's painted features are impassive as Granger speaks. When she finishes, he remains quiet for a long moment, during which Granger waits. If it weren't for how white her knuckles are as she grips the arms of her chair, Draco would have said calmly.

"It may be possible," Snape says at last.

Granger swallows and licks her lips. "May be?"

He nods. "The spell you used when you attempted to reverse the charm is designed for a less…complete erasure of one's memories."

"I was too thorough when I cast the charm?"

"Had you been less thorough, Miss Granger, your parents would very likely be dead."

Granger draws and releases a breath. Draco can almost feel some of the tension leave her. He supposes she's been feeling guilty about what she did.

"There is another spell you can try," Snape says. "Memoriam Perditam Revoco. It's complicated, and I've never cast it."

"I've read every book in the library on memory charms, and I've never come across that spell."

"Because it's Dark. I assume you have not read every book in the Malfoy library?"

She glances at Draco. "I haven't read any of the books in the Malfoy library."

"Then we'd better get started, hadn't we, Granger?" Draco asks.