Lost Along the Way

by Charlie9646

Hermione Granger, 24, had imagined a million ways her life would turn out but this was not one of them. When she least expects it she finds a photograph that might change things for the better, but instead it doesn’t work out exactly as she plans. Time travel is a tricky thing after all. Sometimes what is meant to happen will always happen, whether we like it or not.

7. Chapter 7

Hermione stared at the complex pregnancy kit, the pieces scattered across the counter of the loo. The yellow box taunted her. On the front, it read "The Predictor, the in-home pregnancy test." She read the instructions repeatedly, the words blending together till they had become nearly unreadable and certainly conveyed zero meaning. She had grabbed it primarily due to the fact it had mentioned something about hospitals on the back. When she had seen it at the chemist, it was like she had found all of her answers, but it only seemed to make things worse.

She was five days late and needed answers—for herself and to share.

Why can't I just pee on a bloody stick?

Hermione looked in the mirror and the reflection before her. There was an oddness to it: the woman looked like her, and somewhat dressed like her now that she had finally gotten around to buying a few pairs of denims and cable knit jumpers in various colours, but she still barely recognised her. This was a version of herself who she had locked away, and the world was closing in on her.

'What have I become? Have I forgotten why I have come here? How have I become so self-absorbed that my previous life and those I came here to help have become nothing more than mere afterthoughts?'

But now, Hermione might have her own family to worry about. Her focus was on the life she was starting to make here. Someone once had told her the problem with time travel was that if you got stuck, you could forget where you had come from, or maybe that was just a movie her father had liked, Back to the Future or something like that.

The directions for the pregnancy test were open, just under her fingertips, with the black letters like ants on a page. The feeling of the paper grounded her in the here and now.

'I am not stupid, ignorant, or dumb, and yet something that tons of women do each year might as well be like climbing a freaking mountain… No,' she silently snapped, 'I will figure this out if it's the last bloody thing I do.'

Ivy stuck her paw under the door, poking at Hermione and meowing.

"Fine then," Hermione muttered, opening the door for the silly creature and letting her in. "Seems I can't be alone for a moment, can I?"

Part of her didn't know why she had done that; it wasn't like the cat could understand her now, could it? But Ivy stared up at her as she spoke. With her deep and dark brown unblinking eyes, as if she was taking in every single detail of the room and Hermione. She was a beautiful - if grumpy - creature.

"Could you help me figure this out?"

A large part of her just wanted to throw in the towel and.and go to Madam Pomfrey or another healer who could produce answers instantly with the right diagnostic spell. Someone who could give her the answers she sought, but she didn't and wouldn't.

But it seemed Ivy, with all her silly cat-like notions, had other ideas. The creature leapt onto the counter, knocking over the kit. The sound of the glass bits shattering into a million pieces filled Hermione's ears as her stomach fell to her feet.

"No!" she cried. "No!!! Ivy, how could you do that?" Tears fell down her cheeks from the stress of it all. Hermione wanted to curl up under the covers and forget all of this was happening, but that wasn't an option, no matter how much she wished that were the case. The cat did not answer her beyond staring at her once more and meowing sharply. Ivy pressed her head into Hermione's arm as if to apologise.

"I know you didn't mean it," Hermione murmured, "but that was quite a wretched thing to do, Ivy."

The cat only headbutted her chin. She missed Crookshanks; it was a yearning ache in her soul that she couldn't escape.

'He was just a cat,' she reminded herself. Nothing more, nothing less, and yet he wasn't. The loss of him hurt; even though Hermione herself had been the cause of their separation. She had sent the cat along with her parents, and she had been the one who went meddling with time. Her mind went to Severus, who was at Hogwarts, more than likely teaching, but who or what mattered little. Even if he were here, there was little that he could do for her. When she was honest with herself, there was little that she could do for herself. Her plans seemed to be falling apart, and there was nothing that she could do about it, not a god damn bloody thing. Yet part of her still wanted to try.

Eileen was somewhere doing something, having fled the house at dawn. Hermione had been awake, but just barely. She had been sitting at the table, a cup of tea in hand, watching the sun peek over the ramshackle buildings, its golden rays bleaching the little they touched. The other witch had muttered to her before she left that she had some shopping to do, but if that were the case, she would have been done hours ago. Hermione knew that she could go out by herself, that she should go out by herself, and yet her mind bounced with a thousand options of all the things that could go wrong. If she went out with others and if she made a mistake, they could fill in the gaps, laugh off her silly answers and make sure that the other person simply thought it was a joke or that she was just a bit ditzy.

Hermione had never been ditzy a single day in her life.

But she could not spend her life hiding away like a house cat. She had been sweating bullets when she had gotten the pregnancy test. She had snuck around like a mouse waiting for the trap to spring. But she did it because she had to, and now she had to as well. Hermione needed to get out of this house, to remind herself that there was a world out there. She was part of it too, and nothing was going to change that.

She left the pregnancy test or at least what was left of it sitting where the pieces had fallen. She would deal with it later; she promised herself as she shut the loo door behind her with Ivy in her arms. The cat quickly leapt out of her grasp and dashed off silently. Hermione went to the bedroom she shared with Severus, at least when he did not stay at Hogwarts, gathering her boots and cloak as she did.

There were a few of her things now in this room: her fuzzy slippers by the bed, the stacks of books on her nightstand that matched her husband's, her clothes occupying half of the dresser and wardrobe, and little things like newspaper clippings she had collected about Sirius' case were on the desk. It might not be a lot to most people, but this place was slowly becoming her home. They had not had much luck when it came to Sirius. It seemed that the courts moved slowly in any world. In a few days, Severus would be taking her to visit the man. He had been quite disgruntled at the suggestion, but it had to be done if they were going to have any success in trying to free the eldest Black son. Part of her, a rather large one at that, thought that part of Severus' hatred of Sirius had to do with their past and Regulus and how the man had been treated by his brother. If it had blinded him to what was in front of his nose. That a person could do horribly wretched things and still not be guilty of all crimes. Like Draco, who had been a wretched bully to many other students that he had gone to school with, but was no more a killer than Luna.

There were many things that children did not know and less they could comprehend. The more time she spent here, the more Hermione realised that.

Her mind went to Regulus, her husband's former lover, the one whose photo he kept in his sock drawer, hidden and wrapped tightly in shiny silver fabric. It was a bit outlandish for someone like Severus, though maybe that had more to do with who the other man had been than himself; it was clear that Severus missed him. She knew she should not have gone poking around in his things. Love was about trust, but he kept secrets as if it were his favourite pastime to do so. They were just as much a part of him as anything had or ever would be, and she swore to herself that she would not go digging in his things again. But then Hermione was sure if she had anything to rifle through, Severus would have long ago done it to her things.

Regulus, the man who seemed at the centre of the conflict between Severus and Sirius, looked quite a bit like his brother, though many years younger than she had known him and with quite a slighter frame and possibly a bit shorter. It was harder to tell in photos. His eyes were more grey than blue, though they were deep-set and hooded just like Bellatrix's had been, his nose aristocratic, and his chin sharp, reminding her a very tiny bit of Draco. Hermione wasn't jealous of him, or at least she told herself that. The question in her mind had more to do with whether Severus would ever love her as deeply as he had loved that man. Or would she always be second best to Regulus Black?

Some might wonder if the worries had to do with the fact he was a man, however, it had little to do with that. Her nervousness would still surely be there even if the photo he clung to were that of Lily Evans. It might even be worse because of what had happened before. It seemed in any situation, Severus Snape wore his secrets like armour. However, this life was a ball of complex emotions twisted in a million knots that Hermione did not even begin to know how to start unravelling. This marriage and their life was a house built on sand, and they were merely waiting for the floods to come.

She sat on the bed, pulling on her boots, tying them. She wrapped her cloak around herself and checked to make sure her wand was in the pocket. Everything was ready for her to leave this home alone, and she couldn't keep thinking about that photo as a way to avoid it. She put one foot in front of the other, opened the front door, and stepped out into the daylight. The sun seemed brighter without someone by her side in this strange world where she did not really belong. Severus and Eileen both had coached her about this time and place. They were doing their best to remind her that she had to walk a line, not draw attention to herself, and do her best not to make herself seen.

She started to walk down the street. She would start with a simple Muggle outing; this was the safest, people would just peg her as an odd Snape if she said anything stupid or something that would give her away. There was a woman with dishwater blonde hair sitting on her front stoop smoking a cigarette. She wore a blue-floral-patterned apron over a white dress that hung off her thin frame.

"Are you new to the neighbourhood, lass?" the woman asked as smoke surrounded her, looking like billowing clouds. "I haven't seen you around before and I never forget a face."

"Yes but also no…" Hermione murmured as she stopped.

"It can't be both… And I am Marsha, by the way, Marsha Dove. I have three boys. Thankfully they are in school now and not driving me bloody batty with their need to try to blow up the house evening, noon, and night. But what's your name?"

"Hermione Jean… Snape." She said softly, staring at the toe of her boots as she did. She only glanced up for a moment, Marsha's eyes were a bright green and reminded her so much of Harry's. For all she knew the two of them were distantly related. Wasn't Lily from this area, too? Although many people had green eyes, didn't they? They weren't uncommon, were they? But that shade of emerald was quite odd and a little bit unnerving to see on someone else's face. Something deep within her told her that she could trust this woman, as odd as she might seem in that instant. Maybe Marsha was just the talkative type like Luna or like Ginny, someone who - when she wanted to - could make friends with anyone. So unlike Hermione herself.

"So, that's what you meant. So which one did you marry, the young one or the old one?"

"What do you even mean by that?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows more than likely shooting up into her hairline as she did.

Marsha laughed and ashed out her cigarette on the step with the toe of her boot, "Sev or Tobias? The grumpy one or the bastard? I know Eileen divorced Toby a few years ago and you should have heard the rumours that had been spread about them, but I am not much one for gossip, at least not most days. I don't blame her, but some other people well… They are a little odd here and if you don't know that… Well, I am assuming you are not from around here, are you?"

"I married Severus, we went to school together and it was a long time coming…" The lie fell easily and comfortably from her lips with the bit of truth attached. She had known him when she was at school and it had been a long time coming, but the truth and the story she told were quite a bit different in the end. "He and I love each other and that's all that matters."

"He's a good one, that one," her new friend said. "Strange, but then the same could be said about any of us. I wish he would tell me about that school you two went to. I want to send my boys there so they might be able to get out of here and not end up just like their father working in a dead-end job or living on the bloody dole. I apologise, Hermione, cut me off if I tend to ramble on a bit too much. There aren't too many people our age living here… Most ended up moving to that new flat downtown, but Marty refuses and to be honest this place is home to both of us and I don't blame him. I grew up just down the road… I am a few years older than Severus and maybe you are too."

"I am a few years older than him as well," Hermione said. "So maybe we are the same age." She tucked a curl behind her ear and added, "I am twenty-four."

"Well I am twenty-six, but I should get back to making bread. It should have risen by now and we need the loaves for next week. It's cheaper than store-bought anyway." Marsha stood up, brushed invisible dust off her skirts and began to walk back inside of her home.

Hermione did not know where it came from, but she asked, "Can I help you? If you don't mind, that is?"

"Sure, I would be happy for the help," the other woman said, smiling brightly at her as she did. "And if you want to, for helping me you can take some home with you. If you would like that is."

"I would love that."

"Well then, Hermione, come along and we can get to work," Marsha said, waving her inside of her home.

Hermione wiped her hands on the apron that Marsha had loaned her. The windows were open, letting in the cool breeze. The two-up was just as old as the one where the Snape family lived, just as clean as well, but there was clearly only so much someone could do when the house was old and hadn't been well taken care of most of the time. The bread had risen and filled the air with a yeasty smell that reminded her of her childhood, a long-ago memory that filtered through her mind when her mother had tried to bake bread.

Marsha covered the countertop in front of them with another layer of flour and snapped Hermione out of her memory when she said, "Flour your hands before you touch the dough."

Hermione did what she was told and then reached for a hunk of the dough, kneading it harshly as her new friend had instructed her to do.

"How long have you lived here? If you don't mind me asking."

"All of my life, as had my parents before me. Though both of my grandparents were from Ireland," Marsha said, looking out the window. "My younger brother actually was in the same class as your husband in primary school, before he went to… Hogwarts, I think it's called?"

"Yes, it's called Hogwarts."

"Where are you from?"

"Oxfordshire, both of my parents were dentists," Hermione answered without thinking.

"So your mum is one of those educated sorts? What did she do with you then when you were young? Though honestly with that type of job I am sure she had you in daycare."

Hermione felt her ears go hot, it wasn't that unusual. The first woman who became a dentist was back in bloody 1895! But then she remembered sharply where she was and who she was talking to. This wasn't the 90s and she had to tread carefully, not because of where she was truly from, but because of what she looked like. The Muggle world was quite different from the wizarding world. She felt the familiar sting of being othered and different. A mask slipped sharply back into place as she gathered her thoughts once more before she spoke. "My parents had me at the office most days… I was a weird child who would just read or draw in one of their offices. My mother took time off until she could send me to daycare, but I would have none of that and insisted on going to work with them so I did, at least until I went to Hogwarts, that is."

Marsha nodded along, kneading the bread as she did. "Where are your parents now, Hermione?"

"Australia," she said softly, looking out the grimy kitchen window to the back garden as she did. "They are happier there, but I miss them quite a bit."

"My own parents moved back to Ireland when they retired. Even if they weren't born there they missed it. The land there was cheap. I wish I could join them. But the husband insists we can't. Something about his roots being here." Marsha rolled her eyes as she spoke.

"I want to move to Scotland. Severus works at Hogwarts and I would prefer to be closer to him… But the Headmaster is a stickler for rules and also a stick-in-the-mud to boot." Dumbledore was a stick-in-the-mud but not in the way the Muggle woman might think he was.

"Surely you two could just rent a house near it, couldn't you? Or maybe your husband has something on the side… It's not unusual, you know. Though I do really need to learn to keep my mouth shut, don't I?"

"It's fine, Marsha, and I happen to like your rambling." The bread was now ready to go into the oven. Hermione did like the woman's rambling and how she filled the silence with her words, sometimes dragging Hermione gently along with her and other times simply letting her sit in silence as she carried on about everything and anything. It was nice to have a friend and it was something she did not know she had been missing. "I think I will press Severus about buying or renting a house by Hogwarts, though I don't believe he's cheating on me." She smiled softly, thinking about the times she had been with her husband, shutting them down just as quickly as she felt herself go hot with the thought of Severus Snape between her legs with his mouth on her cunt. He used his tongue to do things to her that made her fingers tighten into his inky black hair as he used his fingers to part her lips. Hermione snapped herself out of such thoughts and her face heated up, surely turning a rather inflamed red. "He's far too enamoured with me for that."

"So the rumours are true then," her friend teased, elbowing her gently in the ribs. Hermione looked around the kitchen, noticing the robin's-egg-blue walls, more than likely for the same reason Eileen had painted her own kitchen yellow. "Big noses are like big feet?" Marsha asked, coyly. "Or is he just talented in his use of it?"

"A woman doesn't fuck and tell," Hermione murmured. "You know about that, don't you?"

"I wouldn't have three boys if I didn't…" Marsha laughed. "Honestly though, it's nice to see that Severus found someone... He was a good boy, I used to babysit for Eileen once in a while, though it didn't really prepare me for my own. He was rather quiet and more interested in reading and cooking."

The sound of the front door being flung open, and more than likely slammed against the wall, filled Hermione's ears.

"Speaking of the little devils… Hermione, I apologise in advance for how they behave."

Three boys came crashing into the kitchen. They were like stair steps with varying shades of blonde hair. The youngest had hair that was a similar colour to the Malfoys, while the middle one had hair that was a dishwater blond though faded and only a shade or two darker than his mother's, and the oldest had strawberry blond hair that stuck out in all sorts of directions and it was neither curly nor wavy.

"Hello!" the three of them said together.

The youngest grabbed at his mother's skirt. He might not have been more than five years old. He tugged on the fabric of his mother's dress and cried out, "I am hungry, mum! Is there anything to eat?"

"The tin of crackers, Sammy, you know where they are or did you forget?" Marsha asked him, washing the flour off her hands as she did.

The eldest grabbed an old rickety wooden chair, carried it over and slammed it against the floor. He climbed up onto it before Hermione could even blink.

"Jacob! Get down, NOW!" Their mother's voice went shrill as she shouted and the boy wobbled on the chair. "The last thing I need is for you to fall and have to take you to the bloody hospital, boy."

Jacob's face was crestfallen in the way only a child could be. Hermione remembered it well from her own childhood. Things that might seem like no big deal to an adult, when you were young made you feel as if you were being crushed. It wasn't the truth, but she understood how the little boy felt. He was ten or nearly so, very much still a child, but starting to reach that point that he surely did not want to be called one anymore.

"I just wanted to get the crackers down, ma," Jacob muttered. "Dad put them up there a few nights ago because Danny was trying to eat them all."

Danny, the middle child, grumbled where he sat, "No I didn't, Sammy did!" He had to be between six or seven; for Marsha's sake, Hermione hoped it was the latter.

"No, I didn't!" His hair started going even lighter, his face grew red, and a teacup on the counter shook. "I didn't do it, mum! I swear it!"

'Bloody hell,' Hermione thought. 'The boy is displaying accidental magic. He's a… Wizard!'

All other things were cut off when the timer for the bread began to trill. Both women knew the last thing they needed to add to this situation was burnt bread. Hermione tossed the oven mitts at Marsha, who gently shoved her sons aside before taking out the bread. She placed the baking sheets on trivets that were already laid out. The bread was darn near perfect from what Hermione could see, the lovely smell even stronger now that the loaves were out of the oven.

"Boys," Marsha said, with her hair falling into her face and her green eyes bright as she held out an orange, rectangular tin of Jacob's cream crackers. "This was what you were looking for?"

"Yes!" the three of them quipped together.

Marsha handed the tin to Jacob and said, "Now, I am leaving these in your care to make sure your brothers don't eat all of them, okay? And you can't either."

Jacob nodded and took the tin from his mum. He said to his brothers, "Let's go play in the sitting room and give mum and her friend some space."

Once the children had left the room Hermione said, "They are good boys."

"That's not them at their worst," Marsha laughed, tucking a dish flannel onto the oven's handle. "But I love them. They are my boys and I don't know what I would do without them, but sometimes I dream of what my life could have been if I had made different choices. I wouldn't trade them for the world, but I had Jacob when I was barely sixteen and it's just... I don't even know how to begin to explain it. I am a fool, aren't I? I am complaining about my children to a near-total stranger."

"We aren't near-total strangers. We made bread, I rambled on about my husband, you told me things about him he might not want me to know. I met your kids and now you are telling me one of your frustrations. I think we are at least somewhat friends at this point, don't you?"

Marsha smiled at her and then threw her arms around Hermione. "Yeah I think we are. I know you want to move to Scotland to be with you man, but I do hope you stay, Hermione, even if it's quite selfish of me. But you should be going… I need to make dinner before Jake gets home, make the boys do their homework, and get them ready for bed. Enjoy your freedom and being a newlywed while it lasts, friend. Once you start having kids? Everything changes."

"Even if I move to Scotland we will keep in touch, I promise."

Marsha nodded.

Hermione picked the smallest loaf and Marsha wrapped it up for her. The witch left with a smile on her face and made her way home, walking in the bright sunshine and smiling as she did. This silly little thing might not have been what she planned on doing, but it had been quite fun and it seemed she had made a friend. She opened the door and stepped inside the place that had somehow become her home. It was not perfect, but this was where she was supposed to be. She could feel it in her very bones. Eileen was in the kitchen when Hermione got home, making dinner for both of them. Severus was still at Hogwarts and wouldn't be home till Friday night. Saturday they would be visiting Sirius. Hermione began cutting the loaf of bread as the wireless filled the air with the sound of The Beatles.

"Want a coke?" Eileen asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. She thought about the mess that covered the counter knowing that she needed to get in there before someone found it and toss it, but knowing her luck Eileen already had though she seemed her usual self. Hermione did her best to keep her reactions neutral as best as she could.

Eileen pulled one out of the icebox, cracked it open, and handed it to Hermione who took a sip. The silence was comfortable and safe.

"Did you have a good day?" Eileen asked.

"Yes," Hermione murmured. "And I think I made a friend. Her youngest son might be a Muggleborn, but I don't know if I should tell her or even how if I would."

"Marsha down the road?"

Hermione nodded silently.

"Leave it be and let Hogwarts deal with it. Or I can see if Minerva is willing to talk to her. Safer that way for everyone. Sometimes Muggles don't react well when they find out about magic, and I speak from experience."

"Tobias?"

"Yes," Eileen muttered. "And his sister for that matter. It's just better to let it be, but let's forget about Marsha and her son for now and have dinner?"

Hermione took another sip of her coke and nodded again. She knew the woman was right, but Sam needed to know about who he was… She could talk to Severus about it and see what he thought. Marsha may have seen his accidental magic and might be more open to it. Or at least she could hope so for everyone's sake.

Sirius Black stared at Hermione, his crystal blue eyes haunted and broken, the dark circles underneath them like bruises, his frame gaunt. His long black curls hung down his back like greasy tentacles. There was something broken in this man and Hermione did not know if it was fixable. She had tried to get Remus to come with her, sending him an owl where she had pleaded with him, but the man simply insisted he couldn't and wouldn't. Part of her knew it was Remus' own fear due to his creature status, but it didn't make a difference now, did it? He could have sent a letter along with her or something else.

It seemed Lupin either believed Sirius was guilty or his fear… had stopped him in his tracks.

Hermione had ripped apart Remus' letter of denial and tossed it in the bin. Severus insisted that they couldn't tell anyone else who she actually was or where she was from. Or how she knew Sirius Black was innocent. They needed different kinds of proof and Hermione was hoping that Sirius could give them to her.

"Can I have a cigarette?" Sirius said, looking at the guard, teasing him. "I mean… If I am going to be stuck here, at least I should get something out of it, shouldn't I?"

"Behave, Black!" the guard bristled, "Or I can take you right back to your cell."

"What's your name?" Sirius asked, turning to face Hermione.

"Hermione."

"Hermione what?" he pressed.

"Hermione Snape, that's what," she sighed.

"No," Sirius muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't buy whatever you are selling, Snape, not one bloody bit. Death Eater wives are no better than their Death Eater husbands."

"You should hear me out first," Hermione snapped. "Sirius, for the love of Merlin, will you please just listen?" She walked over to his side of the table and grabbed onto one of his wrists, shaking it. "Think of Remus."

"You are a liar and Remus can go to fucking hell!" he bellowed, pointing at her, the chains clanking together. "And so can you!"

"This isn't about you, it's about…"

"He left me here. He left me here to die… He believed I did that to them. Why would he believe I did that to them, James and Lily? I would never betray them. Not after Regulus betrayed me…" He sounded off, downright mad if you weren't being kind. For a moment Hermione wondered if he was even paying attention to her or if he even cared that she was there.

"He loves you still and he told me to tell you that. Remus misses you, but it's too painful to visit you." The lies flowed easily from her lips, but it was what the man needed to hear or so she thought. "I want to help you."

"Sweetie, if you want to help me I know a way you can." Surely a man like Snape doesn't know how to take care of such a pretty lady. Want me to do that, love?"

He might be broken, but it didn't change how wretched he was being to her. So she smacked him, the resounding crack filling her ears, her shock bubbling up under her skin at how Sirius was behaving, as well as her reaction. "My husband takes quite good care of me, you bloody bastard! And even if he didn't, I would have no interest in you."

Her actions seemed to be a rather rude awakening to him. Sirius stood there stock-still, staring down at his hands. His blue eyes went even wider. "I am sorry..."

"Hermione, my name is Hermione, but if you keep behaving like that, it's Mrs Snape." Maybe she was giving the man too much leeway, but Sirius Orion Black had been through hell and if she could not get him to work with her, it would only get worse with time.

"I am sorry… Hermione. I know you are only here to help me and I have been quite improper. I am sure my mother is rolling in her grave." He laughed softly, but it was clear he did not find it any more amusing than she did.

"Leave us, Simon," Hermione muttered to the guard. He began to speak, but she cut him off. "If you must, send my husband in, you know he will keep me safe, okay?"

"I shouldn't do that, Mrs Snape, Black is dangerous," the guard said.

She narrowed her eyes at the man and said firmly, "Before my husband was a spy for The Order of the Phoenix, he was a Death Eater. I trust him far more than I trust you, and since you claim it's my safety on the line, I believe it is my choice to make, don't you think so? And do take the chains off him. You can't expect a man to behave like one if you treat him like a dog, now can you?"

Hermione didn't know where her courage was coming from, but she had to do this, she had to save him, and it didn't matter what she had to do to achieve it. Sirius was important to Remus, Harry, Andromeda and the war that was to come.

The red-haired guard hissed as he stared at Hermione, his eyes a storm-cloud grey, and his beard wild, tangled and knotted. He crossed his arms over his chest and murmured, "Fine then, but it will be your funeral… And do make sure Malfoy knows it's your choice. I happen to like my head attached to my neck, bloody hell." He pointed his yew wand at Sirius' cuffs, said a silent spell, and after a moment they fell away.

Sirius let out a soft whine that Hermione could barely hear as he rubbed his wrists and then he asked her, "Why did you do that?"

"I meant what I said, okay? I want to help you, and treating you like a dog or a monster will only make you behave like one."

The heavy oak door opened after a moment and Severus entered the room. His boots hit the floorboards, each step firmer and louder than the last. To Hermione he looked as sour as the professor she knew so long ago. He rested his elbows on the table and cracked his knuckles, long pale fingers twisting and cracking as he did. There was not a button or hair out of place. He looked as much as a proper wizard as anyone ever had or would. The expression he wore was the cherry on top. This man was not her husband, at least not the one she knew well. This was a mask that had been snapped into place to shield and protect himself, and she was the reason he was wearing it. The thought settled in her stomach like a rock, leaving her fighting the urge not to vomit.

Severus raised a hand after a moment and did not speak, but there was clear intent in the man's actions. "Now we can talk privately."

'Silent and wandless magic,' Hermione thought.

"Who says I want to talk to you?" Sirius questioned, his eyebrows shooting up and his face tightening. "You are a Death Eater!"

"I am guessing they don't give you papers in prison," Severus spat, laughing darkly. "It's a rather long story, Black, and I wouldn't waste my breath to tell it to you. But I shall have you know Dumbledore trusts me."

"And I am supposed to care about that?" Sirius snarled. "He didn't even bother waiting to hear my side before he let them take me away. I didn't even get a trial! I didn't kill them, I swear it! But it's not like you are going to believe me so why I am even wasting my fucking breath?"

Hermione held up both of her hands, one at each of the men. "Can't we speak to each other like adults?"

"Ask your husband what happened to my brother, Hermione, and maybe then we can talk like adults. He convinced my baby brother to be a Death Eater before he was even of age and surely fucked him too. It's your fault, Snivellus, it's your fault Regulus is dead!"

Sirius might as well have pulled a trigger attached to Severus. Her husband launched himself at the other man across the table. He was like a cat and what did they hate the most? Dogs. Severus had somehow got his feet over the table and then the two men were suddenly on the floor. Sirius' chair crashed against the stone floor under the weight of them. Sirius laughed, it was a pained and haunted sound that reminded Hermione of some sort of wounded animal. Severus pressed his wand against the other man's throat. She knew her husband was capable of killing someone; who knows what he had done during his Death Eater days? And she knew what he would do in the future, but before that day she had never seen him so murderous or so furious.

Severus Snape wanted to kill Sirius Black and Hermione did not know if she could stop him from doing so.

"Shut your face, Black, or I shall shut it for you!" Severus cried. "You don't deserve to speak his name!"

"Do it, Snape, for the love of Merlin, do it!" Sirius laughed - he had lost all good sense and all sense of self-preservation. "Then I can be out of my misery and you can be where you belong."

"Don't do it, Severus," Hermione pleaded. "You aren't a monster and you are not a killer."

He did not listen to her and threw a solid punch at Sirius' face. The man's nose shattered under his fist. This was the reason Remus was unwilling to help her, because Sirius had become this. He might not have betrayed the Potters, but he was as dead inside as they were. His grave had simply yet to be dug. Blood dripped down Sirius' nose, painting his lips a ruby red. Severus raised his fist for one more blow. Hermione knew she had to stop him, she had to stop Sirius from feeding the monster inside her husband and Severus from giving into it.

"I am a friend of Harry Potter's from the future. I know who betrayed the Potters. It was Peter Pettigrew and he's still alive!" Hermione jumped and threw herself between Severus and Sirius. She shoved her shoulder into her husband's flank and heard him groan under the impact of her blow.

Severus' face filled with horror as he pulled away from her and sat up on his knees. He began to laugh like someone had told him the funniest joke any person had ever spoken before. "You love him, don't you? That's what this is about. You love Black, don't you? You are here to save him?"

"You ignorant bloody fool," she cried, pointing her finger at him. "I love you! Do you think I would be here if I didn't? You and this? Whatever it is between us? It is as inescapable as a lightning strike in an open field! But Harry needs his Godfather and Remus needs his fucking husband. And my child doesn't need to visit their father in Azkaban. Not for Sirius Black or anyone else. Do you understand that or are you too dense?"

Sirius grumbled, "Can't the two of you do this somewhere else? We have more important things to talk about, like getting me out of this ruddy place and about a rat that needs to get caught in a fucking trap!"

"I am going to be a father?" Severus asked as he swallowed hard.

"Possibly," she murmured. "I couldn't figure out the stupid test."

Severus ignored Sirius but stood up and pulled Hermione up with him. "He's got a point, can we talk about this later? Please? When we get home?"

"Yes, we can," Hermione said. For once in a long time, she felt quite grounded holding onto Severus' hand and the way their fingers seemed to fit together perfectly. They could figure everything else out, they had time. As much as anyone did anyway.