A/N: Aaaaand we're back! You all have been super patient with me, so I hope this meets your approval. Looking forward to your thoughts!

Chapter 27: Pressing the Issue

Rounds completed for the night, Severus lugged a basket of essays into their sitting room. Depositing them into organized piles on the table, he glanced at the mantle clock and decided it was ill-advised to begin brewing this late given his morning plans. Marking would be the best use of time, but he was far too tired to grade first year work without making someone cry. Instead, he grabbed the stack of third year essays that needed to be returned on Tuesday.

The wizard settled into his armchair after shooing the ginger beast out of it. He flicked his eyes to the sofa where his wife was staring past her book to the fire. Considering her distraction, he was relieved it was the kneazle book and not one of the works on Occlumency propped open in front of her face.

Crossing one leg over the other, Snape took up the first exemplar of abysmal penmanship needing his attention.

"I think I was an accident."

He glanced up from his marking. "Pardon?"

Embarrassed at having spoken the thought aloud, Hermione rubbed her face. "While you were working on the wards, I had to assure my mother again that I'm not pregnant –"

Severus sighed dramatically.

"—and that we're taking every possible precaution –"

Lips quirking at the comment, he scrawled a large question mark over a nonsensical paragraph.

"—and then she just blurts out, 'Accidents happen, believe me'," Hermione huffed. "I think she meant I was an accident."

Dropping the essay into the completed pile on the floor, he raised an eyebrow. "I see."

The witch furrowed her brow at him.

Sensing tension in her silence, Severus shrugged. "It is not as though she deemed you a mistake."

"Because accident is so much better."

"I'm told there's such a thing as a happy accident. I'd wager several of your classmates were similarly unplanned."

Hermione folded her arms. "My parents plan everything."

"It does not follow that they always have. Perhaps they simply learned from their… past experiences."

"You were going to say mistakes."

"I was not."

"You were. Admit it."

"I admit nothing."

"I know I'm right."

"Don't be childish." At her loud sigh, he frowned. "There is a significant difference between being unplanned and being unwanted. Your parents wouldn't be near as put out with you for throwing your life away over some decrepit ne'er-do-well if they didn't care what happened to you. Not everyone can claim that."

"You're a Potions Master," she argued. "You're hardly a ne'er-do-well."

Severus thinned his lips as he underlined an obviously plagiarized section of text. "Impressed by my credentials, were they?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Well, they didn't discredit them."

"Just everything else, then," he commented.

She exhaled nervously and sank into the couch. "I'm sorry."

Snape scrawled a T at the top of the parchment. "It's neither unexpected nor your fault."

"Still." Hermione picked up her book and forced herself to continue reading. Eventually, she felt the weight of his gaze. "What?"

The wizard shook his head and returned his attention to the essay in front of him.

She frowned. "No, tell me what you were thinking."

Severus cleared his throat. "I merely wondered… if your parents attended school together."

"Oh," Hermione sounded surprised, then suspicious. "Why?"

He feigned innocence. "They're both dentists…"

"Oh. No, they weren't schoolmates." She bit her lip before adding, "Actually, Mum shadowed at Dad's practice during dental school. That's how they met."

"Ah," he intoned. Well, well, well – Dickie the Hypocrite has had his chickens come home to roost.

She warily observed him. "What?"

Remaining silent, Severus continued marking essays until he thought the girl might either explode or curse him into a fine mist. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the parchment to meet her narrowed gaze. "Hmm?"

Hermione folded her arms. "What do you mean, 'Ah'?"

He calmly set aside another marked essay. "Perhaps some of their antipathy stems from their realization that the apple does not fall far from the tree. Allegedly, of course."

His wife gawped at him. "What?! It's not… That's not the same!"

"My mistake," Severus mumbled, skimming through the next essay.

"It's not!" She rose to her knees. "Mum was in her twenties, and Dad… He wasn't her professor."

"Mmm, yes." He struck through an incorrect statement. "Had you but been my young apprentice instead of my student, no one would've raised an eyebrow let alone a question."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed off the sofa. "At least then I'd have had my NEWTs and could seek employment."

When he merely grunted, she snatched up her book and headed toward her bedroom. Pausing before the tapestry, she looked back at him. "Fine, then – what about your parents?"

His quill stabbed through the parchment, as he choked, "What?"

"You asked about mine," she challenged. "How did your parents meet?"

Severus adjusted the stack of essays on his lap to hide his unease. "At the pub."

Hermione nearly lost her balance. "Seriously? The pub?"

"Yes," he snapped. "Is that so terribly shocking?"

"Honestly? Yes. It seems so… modern?" When he pinched his eyes at her, the witch shrugged. "I just envisioned something like an arranged marriage."

Severus snorted derisively. "I assure you – that was not the least bit arranged."

"Huh." Though tempted to ask additional questions, Hermione was discouraged by the sudden harshness of his features. Having already commandeered much of his day – and having again kissed him without permission – she decided not to press him further. "Well… erm… good night."

"Good night," he grunted as she disappeared. His other foot hit the ground, and he scowled up at the ceiling.

As shops opened, Severus sliced through the early Saturday morning traffic of Diagon Alley, shielded from scrutiny by a Notice-Me-Not charm. The smell of fresh pastries and sausage emerging from several stalls set his stomach rumbling. The quick breakfast he scarfed down while departing the castle had worn off before he even finished checking his house for unusually large rodents.

Turning down Horizont Alley, the wizard eventually settled into a dark nook outside the Cloak & Dagger shop. Several minutes he waited, assailed by the savory scents emitted from The Fountain of Fair Fortune next door. He was frankly considering popping into the pub when he finally noticed activity in the red-trimmed building across the street.

His expression stony; Severus dropped his concealment charm and strode into the Which Wizard main office.

At the sound of the bell, a diminutive grey-haired wizard paused in fawning over the shapely blonde at the reception desk . Recognizing the visitor, he scuttled forward, hand extended. "Professor Snape! A lovely surprise indeed! Wilfred Whittle, owner and editor of Which Wizard, but please do call me Willy!"

"I will not," Snape extracted his hand from the voracious handshake.

"Ah," Willy wavered. "What is it we can do for you this morning, Professor?"

Severus withdrew a copy of the monthly issue, folded open to the article, and plopped it onto the desk. "You can provide me with the name of the individual from whom you procured that photo."

"Oh dear." The editor grimaced down at the magazine. "Unfortunately, sir, I cannot provide you a name."

"Cannot or will not?"

Willy plastered a smile on his face. "Which Wizard prides itself on preserving journalistic integrity and protecting our contributors from retaliation by those who may feel aggrieved by unflattering pieces."

Snape folded his arms. "I see. And how does publishing illegally obtained material contribute to integrity?"

"Which Wizard promises privacy to contributors who wish to remain anonymous," the man bristled. "It would set terrible precedent for us to renege on that promise upon the first request."

"The individual you're choosing to shield procured that photo by entering a private residence without permission. A Muggle home, in a Muggle neighborhood."

"Professor, while I sympathize with you – I certainly would be embarrassed had my wife ever disrespected me in such a public fashion –"

"My wife has never disrespected me – publicly or otherwise," Severus snarled. When the editor's smug gaze drifted to the photo, he stabbed his finger into the page. "This was an understandable reaction on her part, which she experienced in the sanctuary of her family home. What I find objectionable, sir, is not her behavior but the violation of her privacy and her parents' residence."

"Nevertheless, I cannot abandon a 200-year-old promise simply so you can settle a score." Willy again donned a smile. "Now, if there is anything else, Professor, Wanda will be happy to assist."

The media wizard disappeared in a cloud of aftershave.

Severus turned his glare to the receptionist eying him over the plume of her quill. "This is what you settled for, Miss Weatherly?"

The witch simply smiled. "Will you be back before lunch, then, sir?"

Snape turned on his heel with a growl and stormed out of the office. As the door slammed shut behind him, the little bell rattled loudly before clattering to the floor.

Giggling, the receptionist swiftly penned a missive cancelling her mid-morning tea date. Something far more interesting was brewing.

Hermione woke to the sensation of being watched.

"Ugh, stop being creepy," she groaned, blinking into the darkness. At the responding purr, she covered her eyes with her arm. "I mean it, Crooks. Go away. It's too early."

As her familiar grumpily turned his gaze to the door, the witch snuggled back into her pillow. Before long, however, a fluffy tail smacked her in the nose.

"Crooks!" Hermione grumpily turned over, snagging her wand to cast a Tempus. "It's too early for you to be so irritated. It's only… a quarter past ten?"

Cursing once more the lack of windows in her room, the witch rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up. It was little wonder her familiar was put out with her, and she could only hope Snape was not similarly irritated with her unintentional lie-in.

The image of him scowling at her door from his armchair was enough to propel her to her feet.

With a change of clothes in hand and an apology poised on her lips, Hermione burst into the blissfully empty sitting room. She doubted Snape was still asleep; he was likely working in his lab or office. Or perhaps he was purposely avoiding her as he had after their last accidental kiss.

Except it wasn't accidental this time, was it? You flat out snogged him without consent. I'd avoid you, too.

Hermione ambled morosely toward the bathroom. Opening the door, she squawked as something smacked her in the face. She glared at the scroll floating in front of her before finally unrolling it.

I have errands to complete off-campus before this afternoon's staff meeting. Attend breakfast and lunch with your friends should you like, but do not walk the halls alone. Floo McGonagall if you have need or send Lady Selwyn to the dormitory to fetch Draco or Miss Greengrass, if you prefer. I will meet you for supper in the Great Hall.

"At least he's communicating this time." Crumpling the missive, the witch proceeded with her morning routine.

Freshly showered, Hermione settled in with the breakfast tray ordered from the kitchens. She had slept through the offerings in the Great Hall but truthfully held no desire to face the crowds on her own.

Nibbling her toast, she watched Crookshanks scarf down his overdue meal and had to stifle a yawn. Despite turning in at a respectable time, it had taken ages to fall asleep. After obsessing over her mother's cryptic remark, she had worked herself into a fury over Snape's assessment of her parents. That said, she was not sure whom she was more upset with – Snape for making the comparison, her parents for their potentially hypocritical reaction, or herself for lending the idea any merit.

That anger had melted into guilt over deepening the divide between herself and her parents. Severus had withstood their attack of his character in silence. She, too, could have held her tongue instead of purposely using him to antagonize them. By no means would it improve her parents' opinion of her marriage, and it could have strained her already tenuous relationship with her husband.

She wished her parents would show more gratitude to Severus for what he had done to protect them. If the roles had been reversed and his parents had treated her in a similar fashion, she highly doubted she could have held her temper so well.

Oh gods. His parents.

Hermione nearly choked on her food. Coughing, she set down her fork and reached for her tea. Based on what little Severus had revealed of his family, she was not certain she was ready to meet them. Her eyes swept about the sitting room, but there were no photographs – or any personal effects beyond the books – to be had. Of course, he could have something of his family in his bedroom, but she was hardly about to rifle through his private room.

He probably warded it anyway to prevent you doing just that.

The poor reputation of the Snapes amongst Pureblood society did not guarantee they would welcome a Muggleborn into the family. They, at least, were more apt to understand the notion of soulmates and magical compulsion. They could still blame her, though, for forcing their son into a position that jeopardized his employment – and even his life.

On that note, do they know of his extracurricular activities? For either side? Were they proud he became a Death Eater? Is that why they haven't reached out? Or have they, and Severus has neglected to mention it? Are they angry to have missed his wedding? Or did he tell them, and they refused to come?

Rubbing her chin, Hermione felt terrible for not considering how his personal relationships would be affected by their sudden marriage.

Only two weeks remained until end of term. Over holiday would be the most likely time to visit his family – although for all she knew, Severus could be doing so at the very moment– and it was obvious they would not be spending any more time with her parents this year. She would need to broach the subject of holiday plans with Severus soon, so she could best prepare for introductions to his family.

As his human sat lost in her woolgathering, Crookshanks hopped onto the sofa and surveyed her breakfast tray. Quickly, he snagged the sausage from her plate and absconded with his 'kill' under the sofa.

"You've no idea, Louise, how many times I've wanted to transfigure his prick into pineapple," Tonks grumbled over a cubicle.

"A pineapple?" the plump witch snickered from her desk.

"What? It's cumbersome; it's all stabby-stabby uncomfortable; and no witch is going to even consider –"

"Does no one do any work here?"

Tonks reared back to see the Hogwarts Potions Master stalking toward her. "Professor Snape?"

"Snape?" Louise mouthed, peering around her cubicle.

"Not that I'm not thrilled at a reunion with my favoritest professor," the Auror raised her eyebrow, "but what exactly are you doing here?"

Severus pinched his gaze. "I found myself in need of a competent Auror and assumed the Aurory might be the place to find one. Am I mistaken in that assumption, Miss Tonks?"

"Erm, no. But there is a bit of a protocol to these things. Did Milton not –"

"If you're referring to the ignoramus stationed at the front desk, I believe he was more concerned with submitting the details of my complaint to the nearest reporter instead of an Auror."

"Of course, he is," Tonks shared an irritated glance with Louise, who tittered and returned to her work. "Well, how can I help, sir?"

Snape glanced disdainfully about the sparsely populated office. "Is there no one else available?"

"Nope," she replied with an irritated pop. "I can assist you, Professor, or you can go back out to the waiting room and wait for one of my colleagues to return. It should only be an hour. Although, if you're holding out for a competent one, it may be even longer."

"Fine."

"Groovy," Tonks clapped her hands and pointed to a nearby door. "Let's step into my office, and I'll do my very best to service you to satisfaction."

As a loud snort exploded from the cubicle behind them, Severus rolled his eyes. "And where does one file complaints regarding professionalism?"

"Ah, that would be Louise!" Tonks grinned, gesturing to the placard on the cubical.

"Of course, it is."

"She's real good at filing 'em, too," she laughed, entering her office. "Sometimes the file even gets opened."

Snape narrowed his eyes after squeezing in behind her. "Is this a broom closet?"

"One man's broom closet is another witch's office," Tonks shrugged. When the door was firmly shut, she cleared her throat. "Alright, what the hell are you doing here? Is Hermione alright?"

"Physically."

"'Bout all one can hope for these days."

"Quite." Severus produced the copy of Which Wizard from his pocket. "You've seen this?"

"Unfortunately. Not the most flattering photo of newlyweds, I have to say."

He stuffed it back into his pocket. "I've just come from their offices. The editor refuses to name the photographer."

Tonks scratched her forehead. "Well, legally speaking, there's not much I can –"

"The photo was taken from inside the house without the Grangers' knowledge or permission."

"No shit?" When he nodded, she rubbed her palms together. "I stand corrected. I've got some wiggle room."

"More than you have in this closet."

"Hey, now. It's taken me this long to even get this much space to myself." Tonks sighed as they moved back to the main room.

"TONKS!"

"Bollocks." She spun to address the greying wizard who had stepped out from his office. "Yeah, boss?"

"I need the duty filings from your tour with Shields."

"Er, right. I've got a possible S.O.S here, but I could get you those –"

"S.O.S?" the supervisor repeated, glancing about the department. "No, go track that down. I'll get the filings from Shields."

"Aye aye, cap'n," Tonks saluted as he disappeared back into his office. Fastening her cloak, she gestured down the corridor. "Oi, let's go before he changes his mind. It's damn time Shields does his own bloody paperwork. We've got our own Apparition point in back, so we can avoid the press."

As Severus grunted his appreciation, she stopped cold.

"Or should we go out the front, hmm?"

The wizard gave a loud, suffering sigh.

"Come on," Tonks patted his arm. "Let's go face your adoring public. I bet this'll be front page once Milton spills his guts."

Begrudgingly, Snape fell in behind her. "You'd better not trip, then."

"Oooh, so you're aiming to get hexed on the front page, are you?"

The little bell, having just been replaced above the door, was again sent scurrying across the hardwood floor as Snape barreled back into the Which Wizard office. At the reception desk, Wanda tried to hide an eager grin behind her teacup.

"Is the proprietor available?" Severus growled.

"Mmm," Wanda set down her tea and primly rose from her seat. "One moment, sir."

Leaning against the tall desk, Tonks watched the blonde hurry up the wrought iron staircase. "She looks familiar."

Snape crossed his arms and resisted the urge to tap his foot. "Slytherin, Class of '92."

"Ahh, that's it! She snogged Timothy Duggans in Greenhouse 4." She turned to rest her elbows on the counter. "Tropical section was a good call because that session got steamy."

His eyes narrowed at her.

"What? They were blocking the exit – sort of, maybe, or probably not. But really, there was nothing else I could do."

"Were you, or were you not a Prefect?"

"Eh," she shrugged. "Wasn't my night, wasn't my House. Plus, I was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. You see, I had this absolute beast of a professor who made me personally harvest all of the ingredients I needed for class that year."

Severus rolled his eyes. "It was not all of them – just the ones I knew you had the ability and access to do so. And did it, or did it not behoove you in Auror training?"

"Fair enough. Top scores in Poisons and Antidotes – that's why they gave me the big office."

Footsteps drew their attention to the metal staircase, where Wilfred Whittle stomped down to the ground floor, followed more gracefully by the receptionist.

"Professor Snape," he greeted frostily before smiling at Tonks and holding out his hand. "Wilfred Whittle, owner and editor of Which Wizard, but you can call me Willy."

"Dora Tonks," she returned. "But you can call me Auror Tonks."

Willy swung his piercing gaze back to the Potions Master. "I don't know what you seek to gain by –"

"The photographer's name is what I seek to gain, Mr. Whittle," Severus clipped. "I do believe I made that quite clear."

The editor puffed up his chest. "And I already made it quite clear – our policy at Which Wizard ever since my great-grandfather Willard Whittle founded it has been to stand behind, or in front need it be, of our contributors!"

"Which is very admirable, of course," Tonks cut in. "In most circumstances, we would respect that decision. However, that particular photo was obtained in direct violation of the Statute of Secrecy. The Ministry is very strict about these things, you see, and if you're standing in place of the perpetrator… well, I don't think they'll take too kindly to that."

"This is absurd, unconscionable, egregious, OUTRAGEOUS!" Willy waved his hands. "Which Wizard has been a premiere periodical for 217 years! You cannot just –"

"You've had a good run, then," Tonks stated.

"WHAT?!"

Severus swallowed a snicker as the man's eyes bulged from his head.

Tonks smiled sharply. "Have you read the Statute in the last 300 years or so? Any businesses found to encourage, engage in, or ensconce intentional acts in breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy are to be forfeited to the Ministry of Magic, the property repurposed, and the profits reallocated as the Ministry deems fit."

"But –"

"In this scenario, Which Wizard is the business, trespassing in a Muggle home for financial gain is the intentional act in breach of the Statute, and you, Willy, are the poor sod who will be lucky to escape a sentence in Azkaban."

"I cannot – Azkaban?"

She tilted her head. "But, if it turns out you were unaware of the transgression, and if this individual acted on their own and not as an agent of Which Wizard, and if you wanted to assist the Aurory in investigating this absurd, unconscionable, egregious, outrageous infraction of International Law, we would be most appreciative."

Willy stiffened, gulped, then cleared his throat. "I see. Well… I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Auror Tonks. I am shocked and truly saddened to learn of this infraction. Of course, the individual in question is not an employee of Which Wizard but merely a member of the public who wished to sell the rights to the photo."

"Of course," Tonks nodded.

"And it would be our pleasure to assist the Aurory in tracking this criminal down," the editor assured, snapping his fingers at the buxom witch smirking behind him. "Wanda, provide Auror Tonks with the photographer's information."

With a wink to her former Head of House, the receptionist sashayed to a file cabinet. After a few minutes' digging, she tugged out a folder and brought it back to her desk.

Tonks accepted the proffered receipt with a smile. "Bastian Gellert? Have you worked with him before?"

Wanda shook her head as Willy blurted, "Of course not! And we never shall again!"

Snape peered over Tonks's shoulder while she questioned the pair about the man's description and behavior. When they appeared to have nothing else to add, the Auror declared, "We'll need, of course, all copies of any photos you received from him seeing as they are products of the Statute violation."

"Of course, of course," Willy mumbled, gesturing for Wanda to do so. "If there's nothing else, I do have other obligations…"

"Oh, I think we're done here," the Auror replied. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"My pleasure," he bowed before disapparating.

After accepting the folder containing the photos, Tonks produced a card from her pocket and handed it to the blonde with a wink. "Anything else comes to mind…"

"Miss Weatherly." Eyebrow raised, Severus followed the strutting Auror out of the office.

Once outside, Tonks cast a Notice-Me-Not charm. "She single?"

Snape frowned, adding a Muffliato. "Why in Merlin's name would I know that?"

"Not in the Slytherin newsletter?" At his cold stare, the pink-haired witch tittered. "Don't be jealous, darling. I appreciate many fine things in life."

"Why I thought you would be any less loathsome on the job is beyond me."

"The professor doth protest too much methinks." Tonks flashed the manilla folder. "You're just irritated you needed my assistance. I have to say I am surprised at it."

Severus rolled his shoulders. "I had the legal upper hand. There was no need to upset the press cart any more than necessary."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night," she teased, pulling the folder out of his reach.

"I must admit, you did remind me a bit of your Aunt –"

Tonks silenced him by slapping him in the sternum with the manilla folder. "Do not finish that sentence. I don't want to know which aunt."

Smirking, the wizard pried the folder out of her fingers.

"I'll have that back before I leave, or I'll hit you with a Theft of Evidence charge. But… I'll let you unofficially copy it if you buy me lunch."

"It's not even eleven," Snape protested.

"Oh, I could eat," she assured him.

Refusing to admit his own hunger, Severus stowed the file in the pocket of his robes and rubbed his eyebrow. "Fine. I have something else for you to do off the record, and then you will find some place cheap and Muggle."

"Cheap and Muggle – just the way I like it," Tonks exclaimed. "Can't have you seen stepping out on the Missus, can we?"

"No."

"Well, as long as I don't have to kill anyone to get fed, I'm game."

"I shouldn't think that will be necessary."

Having struck out with Minerva regarding their mysterious photographer, Severus decided he had enough time to freshen up before supper. He spoke briefly to one of his prefects in the hallway before pushing into his office.

Hermione looked up from his chair. "Oh, you're back early."

"It's quarter to five."

"Is it? Oh." She noted him frown at the crowded mess atop his blotter. "Sorry. It's too awkward and hard to focus in the library. Especially if I have to sit with Malfoy."

"You have female friends."

Hermione eyed him dubiously. "I have Ginny, but she doesn't like to study. And Daphne…we're not friends."

With a grunt, Severus headed toward their living quarters. "I shall be ready by five."

"Oh." His wife scrambled out of the chair after him. "Do we have to? Can't we eat here again?"

He stalled halfway through the sitting room. "Did you attend breakfast or lunch?"

She shifted in the doorway. "No, I ordered from the kitchens."

"Has anyone in this castle seen you since you fled class on Friday?"

"Maybe?" Hermione slumped at his arched eyebrow. "No."

Nodding decisively, Severus resumed his walk. "Then we eat in the Great Hall."

"But –"

He paused again at his bedroom door. "Do we have something to be ashamed of?"

"No," she ground out.

"Then stop acting as though we do."

Hermione growled in frustration as he disappeared into his room. Glancing down at her wrinkled top and the small ink stain on her jeans, she stomped off to her own room, where she stared at her wardrobe for several minutes.

When she finally emerged ready from the restroom with hair and make-up half-heartedly done, the witch found her husband tidying his desk. "Really?"

"I had to find something to occupy the time while you…" Severus trailed off upon facing her. "What are you doing?"

"Accompanying you to dinner?"

His eyes swept over her olive-hued robes. "We're not going out."

"I know that." She adjusted her sleeve. "I'm told these are casual wear, so I am casually wearing them up to dinner. Merlin knows I wouldn't want to embarrass you further with my Muggle jeans."

Severus dropped his gradebook on his desk. "I am not embarrassed!"

"You may not be, but others think it." Hermione inhaled and raised her chin. "Now, are you coming? I can't exactly sit at the Head Table and be gawked at without you."

Grumbling, the wizard stalked around the desk and met her at the door. He offered her his arm, but by the time they reached the stairs she had taken his hand.

Hermione groaned at the copy of the Sunday Prophet abandoned on a library table. A photo of them barging into her home was featured beneath the caption 'Startled Snapes Scurry to Secure Muggle Parents'.

"Leave it be," Severus exhaled, moving swiftly to the back of the library.

The witch folded her arms as she followed him. "Did they really have to use 'scurry'? Like we're rodents or something?"

Snorting, he unlocked the door to the Records office. "Well, 'scuttle' or 'scamper' would hardly be any better."

"Why not 'sprint'? Or 'speed'?" she sputtered.

"You should write them a letter."

"Ha! I've learned my lesson on that score." Hermione inspected the windowless room, which seemed to span the width of the library and housed several stories of overflowing shelves. "What are we doing?"

"Looking for a needle in a haystack," Severus mumbled, scanning the gold placards on the stacks. "The name our photographer gave to that rag is Bastian Gellert –"

"You know who he is!?"

"I know the name he provided," he clarified. "Beyond that and a general physical description, I do not know who he is."

"What did he look like?"

Closing his eyes in concentration, Snape repeated the detailed depiction the receptionist had provided.

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "Then it's not the same man from Humboldt's."

"How do you know? The height seems similar, and he was wearing a hooded cloak."

"I saw his face, remember? That man had dark eyes – not as dark as yours, but definitely not blue. His nose was slender, not wide and flat; his skin seemed rough, not smooth; and the strand of hair I could see was dark, not sandy brown. And he seemed older than 40 or 50."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. We either have two nefarious individuals stalking us, or the same individual is well-versed in disguising their appearance."

"How could we possible know?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "But regardless of what the individual actually looks like…on the off-chance he provided his real name – or some combination thereof – for payment purposes, he might be here."

"These are Hogwarts student records?" She scanned up the stacks and balconies to the ceiling. "As in all of them?"

"Nearly," he shrugged. "There were incidents, of course, that destroyed certain years or decades. The rest is here, along with staff records, budgets, medical files, library logs, and anything else they could think to stick in here."

Hermione reverently touched a shelf. "And you can just read them?"

Severus smirked at her reaction. "With special permission and a key from the Headmaster."

"Wow. This is…" Her face fell. "This is going to take forever."

"We don't need to skim through all of them. We start with the records prior to my time as a student and work backward, noting any 'Bastians' or 'Gellerts'. Tonks is doing similarly with Auror records."

"And if he used a false name?"

"Then we'll have wasted a Sunday."

Skeptical, yet intrigued by the prospect of digging into historical records, Hermione agreed to assist. She followed Snape until he located the appropriate bookcase.

"The most recent records are added to the bottom shelf, and preceding years' rise as needed. Thus, we shouldn't have to go upstairs."

"How many are we going through?" The witch grunted as he deposited three books in her arms.

"As many as we can get through today," Snape replied, taking four for himself. "The Headmaster believes this a waste of time and has only granted us access for twelve hours."

"Twelve hours?"

"It took nearly that long to convince him to let us in at all, so perhaps we could start making use of that time?"

Sighing deeply, Hermione claimed the comfiest seat she could find. Opening the first book, she was incredibly relieved to find an index. Halfway through it, she exclaimed, "Scramble!"

Severus peered over at her. "What?"

"Scramble," she repeated. "That would have been a much better word than 'scurry'."

Rolling his eyes, the wizard flipped a page.

Yawning, Hermione returned a few books to the shelf and procured another armful. As she moved, the light caught the gold text on the spine of another volume. Glancing back at Snape – hunched over a table, muttering to himself as he jotted something down – she added the book to her pile and crossed quickly to her seat.

The witch angled her chair so her husband could not glimpse the year were he to look in her direction. More awake than she had been in hours, she studied the index. Noting a possibility to check later, she flipped through pages until she found the entry in which she was most interested.

Severus Tobias Snape

· Born 9 January 1960 to Tobias Michael Snape & Eileen Aideen Prince of 7 Spinner's End, Cokeworth, Lancashire

· Extracurricular Activities: Slytherin Dueling ('72-'78), Slug Club ('74-'78), Slytherin Quidditch ('75-'77)

"Quidditch?" she whispered. "Really?"

"Pardon?"

Hermione froze, then peered around the wing of the chair. "Oh, erm, I was just wondering what Slug Club was. I've seen it mentioned a few times."

Severus continued scanning the book in front of him. "My predecessor – Professor Slughorn – hosted a social club for select students he deemed 'best and brightest'."

"Really? You didn't want to continue it?"

He stretched his back with a groan. "It was a ridiculous, self-serving venture. His 'best and brightest' were primarily those of elite families or with famous relations, who provided him more connections than he did them, and a few charity cases he presumed would make something of themselves and be eternally grateful to him when they did."

"That doesn't sound so nice, no." Hermione wrinkled her nose. Attached to Snape's entry was a group photo, which she presumed was from one of those club gatherings. The teenaged Severus was unmistakable in the picture; his sullen expression betrayed the same miserable experience his adult self had described, while everyone else smiled.

It was odd seeing him at her own age. From Sirius's and Remus's descriptions, she had developed a rather unkind image of him. Yet, here he did not look greasy, or beady-eyed, or creepy. Scrawny, yes, and perhaps a bit awkward, but he was clean and well-dressed. His face was pale and smooth, and his eyes appeared rather sorrowful. She wanted to give him a hug, and the longer she stared at him, the more striking he seemed to be.

Humming, Hermione forced herself to look away from the picture and continue reading.

· Nominated Positions: None

· Special Awards: Most Promising in Potions, Slytherin Top Score

· Intended Profession: Private Potioneer

Reaching his academic record, the witch leaned forward to study it. His class lists were remarkably similar to her own, minus her foolish insistence on taking the Divination and Muggle Studies electives against McGonagall's advice. His course marks were also high. They had dipped during his sixth year – unsurprising with how many NEWT-level classes he had taken – but picked up again his final year.

Across the room, Severus lifted his head to observe his wife after realizing he had not heard her turn a page or write a note since her question about Slug Club. Suspicion turned in his mind at seeing her engrossed in a page. Setting down his quill, he crept up behind her chair and peered down at his own school record. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"Oh!" Hermione jumped out of her chair.

Glowering, Snape snatched the book from her. He glanced down long enough to see she had – hopefully – not yet turned the page to find his lengthy disciplinary record, then tucked the book under his arm. "I distinctly said before my time as a student."

Flushing, the witch clutched her chest with one hand and pointed with the other. "There was a possible… an Edward Sebastian –"

"Glettner," he finished. "In Hufflepuff, yes. I am aware. I am also aware he and his family were dead by Christmas of 1980, so I highly doubt he was disrobing your dollies a week ago."

"Oh." Hermione deflated. "I'm sorry! I saw it, and I was curious, and… You earned nine NEWTs and took Alchemy as private study?!"

Growling, Severus stalked back to his station.

"I am sorry," the witch sank into her seat. "I should've asked."

"Indeed."

She begrudgingly picked up another book. "If it's any consolation, you beat my OWLs score."

"I think you'll find that you failed to match mine."

Hermione tossed him an irritated look before returning to her assigned task.

"What, no fancy clothes today?"

Hermione scowled over her coffee. Having spent the better part of yesterday in close confines with her ornery husband, she had opted to dine with her friends. "It's a school day, Ronald. Students wear school robes on a school day."

"Ignore him." Ginny gave Pigwidgeon a treat for delivering the paper. "He wouldn't know class if it bit him on the arse."

"You're one to talk," Ron grumbled, "with the company you've kept."

"Ron!" Harry chided.

"What? Don't tell me you're friends with Michael bloody Corner now."

"Of course, I'm not friends with Michael bloody Corner!"

"Well, good!"

"Good!" Harry snapped before the two began to laugh.

Scoffing at their antics, Ginny snapped open the Daily Prophet. She studied the page a while before grinning, "I have to admit, 'Mione, I can see some of the appeal."

Hermione set down her spoon. "What?"

Ginny lowered the paper, revealing a photo of Snape striding determinedly past reporters with a serious-faced Tonks at his heels. Across the table, Harry and Ron stood to catch a glimpse.

"What appeal?" scoffed Harry.

"He looks every bit the cranky sod he usually does," Ron agreed.

As they took their seats, Hermione peeked toward the Head Table. Despite the tension between them, she was exceedingly grateful to Severus for having devoted much of his weekend to tracking down the person who had broken into her home. Though their twelve hours had only culminated in a list of 34 people who could reasonably be called either Bastian or Gellert (but not both), she preferred finding nothing to not looking at all.

Noting her husband was blatantly ignoring a disapproving stare from Dumbledore, she turned back to watch the scene outside of the Aurory replay itself a few times.

"She's actually blushing!" Lavender squealed as her friends began to giggle.

Sobering immediately, Hermione pulled her eyes from the photo and gestured to the title – Snape Suggests Statute of Secrecy Slip-Up – of the accompanying article. "At least that's better than yesterday's."

"What was wrong with yesterday's?" Ginny asked.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at her. "Severus Snape does not scurry."

The redhead stifled a snort long enough to ask, "Not even in bed?"

"Ugh!" Hermione cringed. "I don't know what that even means, but no – I assure you, he does not."

Ginny covered her face, giggling. "I don't know, either, but the question was just there, needing to be asked."

Neville, Ron, and Harry gaped at her in silent horror. Down the table, however, Seamus, Dean, and a few sixth years put forth a few suggestions, each of which led to raucous retching sounds.

"And they say you're the ill-behaved one," Ginny quipped.

Hermione glared at her.

"I mean, who wouldn't want to slap Snape if given the chance?" Harry grinned.

"I didn't slap…" She heaved a breath and crossed her arms. "I don't even remember reacting that way – I was upset with my parents, and he was just trying to help me calm down."

Neville nervously glanced at the others before asking, "And did he?"

Relaxing her arms, Hermione offered him a small smile. "Yes. Very much so."

"And how are your parents now?" Harry asked, swallowing his discomfort.

She shook her head in frustration. "Even less thrilled with us after the intruder, and…"

"And?" Ginny cocked her head.

Flicking her eyes over her shoulder, Hermione slowly grinned as she picked up her cup. "And after I snogged Severus in their garden."

As the chorus of loud giggles and pretend retching struck up again, Ginny amusedly shook her head. "I take it back, Hermione Jean Snape. You are the ill-behaved one."