Chapter 6: When Weasleys Attack

Lucius watched dispassionately as the body he had recently been strangling slid to the ground. Another informant, another absurd story about the Dark Lord's defeat at the hand of Potter. Everywhere he went he was tortured with preposterous tales of a great battle that took place seven years ago in which his Master had been defeated by that… that child! Even worse were the stories drunken bar companions had told him of his own death by Dementor's Kiss. Ridiculous!

Eight days he had been trapped in this hellish nightmare. Eight days that he had been forced to live like a beggar when he should be celebrating his Lord's victory. He had briefly entertained the thought of apparating to Hogwarts but had squashed the idea when someone had informed him that the school would soon be swarming in do-gooders for Albus bloody Dumbledore's New Year's bash!

To say that Lucius was irritated would be a major understatement. His normally unruffled appearance had been ruined by too many nights spent slumming in Knockturn Alley and not enough chances to shower. When he had attempted to return to his manor he had found himself blocked by external security wards. Wards on his own home, designed to keep him out! When he discovered who dared have the audacity…

Lucius flicked a cold eye over the rapidly cooling body lying before him; strangling the man had been oddly satisfying, much more so than a simple curse would have been. He stooped down and gingerly lifted the man's wallet from his pocket. Lucius Malfoy, reduced to scavenging. The very thought sickened him. Hmm, interesting, Lucius thought. Gregory Goyle. He vaguely recalled the name from Draco's days in school. Wasn't he always hanging around with that Crabbe boy? Satisfied that he was correct, Lucius headed to the owl post office to learn of young Crabbe's whereabouts.

And then, he would deal with Hermione Snape.

New Year's Eve settled in with a bout of snow. Not enough to impede travel, which pleased Albus, not to mention Hermione, to no end; the Headmaster would have been insufferable if he had had to cancel his party. Hermione gazed out her window at the pleasant dusting that had settled over the grounds. She shivered a little as she laid her head against the window. It was early morning and she was still dressed in her nightgown. She'd only slept a little that night. Thoughts of her last encounter with Snape had made it nearly impossible to sleep. He was so cold, so immovable. Just like her husband had been before they were married.

With a small grimace, Hermione shook herself from her reverie. It wouldn't do to dwell on the man. She would only serve to work herself into a tizzy. Instead, she turned to her desk where several of her new books were laid out. She had retrieved her purchases from the Headmaster's office yesterday during her tea with him. He had questioned her nosily about her trip into Hogsmeade; Hermione suspected Snape had already told him all about it. As it was, Hermione gave him a few details that seemed to mollify him. He had then quickly set about obtaining her promise to attend the New Year's party and, eventually, Hermione had relented. She figured that the gathering would be as good a venue as any to reveal her arrival. After the run-in with Ginny and Neville in Hogsmeade, she figured it wouldn't be prudent to wait much longer.

Hermione lingered at her desk momentarily to choose a book. Finally settling on Which World? A Guide to Alternate Universes,she settled into her loveseat. She'd been reading for only a few minutes when she heard a tap on her window. Startled, her eyes sought out the small owl that was hovering patiently. Hermione quickly made her way to the window, and, after giving the owl a small snack, opened the parchment it had been carrying.

Small problem, it read. Mrs. Weasley knows you are here. Young Miss Weasley saw you in Hogsmeade? Please floo to my office at your convenience. Albus.

Hermione swore. She knew she should have gone after Ginny and Neville the other night. She could barely imagine what Mrs. Weasley's reaction to Ginny's news had been. What she didn't doubt was that it had been loud and that poor Arthur Weasley was now in hot water. Reluctantly, Hermione took a quick shower and readied herself for the day. She had hoped to spend the day reading, followed by a quick appearance at the party later. Now she'd be lucky if she would even find the time to change into her new dress robes.

Hair dried and a few cosmetic charms applied to cover the dark circles under her eyes, Hermione floo'ed to Dumbledore's office. Finding the office empty, she walked over to pet Fawkes for a few moments. Eventually she sat, quickly pilfering a lemon drop as she began to wonder what was keeping him.

All too soon, she heard voices coming from the entranceway of the office. She could hear Albus' quiet tones and…

Hermione groaned. Mrs. Weasley had apparently wasted no time getting to Hogwarts this morning. Briefly, Hermione entertained the thought of flooing back to her rooms but quickly discarded the idea. They would only hunt her down eventually.

Hermione flinched as the door was flung open and a sea of red hair flowed into the room. Hermione counted five different Weasleys, including a small child. They were all talking animatedly, throwing questions at the aging wizard in their midst. Even the child, a girl who appeared to be no older than about four, was adding her voice to the racket.

Valiantly, Dumbledore sought to answer them, mostly directing his answers to the Weasley matron. Hermione shrank back into her chair, desperate to be overlooked. Maybe she should have floo'ed out when she'd had the chance. As it was, she now found herself effectively trapped and eventually someone would notice her. And, even as the thought crossed her mind, she registered the fact that the room had gone completely silent.

Bravely, Hermione raised her eyes. What met her eyes were the faces of five Weasleys, all wearing identical expressions of shock. Well, all except the little girl. She merely seemed curious.

Standing, Hermione catalogued the faces before her. Of course, Molly Weasley was instantly recognizable, looking as motherly as ever. Standing next to her was Ginny, followed by the Arthur, who was holding the little girl. Finally, Hermione's eyes fell on the last Weasley. Her breath hitched as she took in his all too familiar features.

Ron.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, obviously in a lame attempt to ease the tense atmosphere of the room. Almost as though that act had been a trigger, Molly threw herself at Hermione, wrapping her in a fierce motherly hug. Hermione soon found herself surrounded by the rest of the clan, all of which had recommenced their questioning, this time directing their inquiries to Hermione rather than the Headmaster.

Hermione, for her part, tuned them out, simply choosing to bask in the warmth of Molly's embrace. For all that she had been successful in moving on with her life, the lack of human contact had been starting to wear on her. Just to be held by another person was a blessing that Hermione wasn't willing to waste. Still, despite her desires, she disengaged herself carefully from the now crying woman. She took a deep breath and gestured for the rest of the Weasleys to quiet themselves. She didn't dare look in Ron's direction, although she could feel him near her; to look at him now would break her.

She gave Arthur a shaky smile that he returned warmly. It served to strengthen Hermione's fragile control on her emotions. In the meantime, Albus conjured several chairs and motioned for the Weasleys to sit. Hermione rather hesitantly took a seat next to Ginny, quickly glancing her way.

As Molly opened her mouth to speak, Albus raised his hand. "Please, Molly. I know you have a lot of questions, but please let me try to explain before you continue." Molly looked displeased, but nodded her head for him to continue. Hermione noticed vaguely that Ron had yet to speak. He, in fact, looked rather dazed when Hermione snuck a glance at him. Albus continued, "As you've no doubt heard, we have with us someone whom we had all thought lost. Miss Granger arrived a little over a week and a half ago. The… circumstances surrounding her arrival are still a little vague at best, but I can assure you that the woman sitting before you is, in fact, Hermione Granger."

Hermione was startled when Ron jumped to his feet. "Are you sure?" he asked Dumbledore, eyes glinting dangerously. "She could be an imposter. We all know Hermione's dead; this woman could just be taking advantage of us."

The Headmaster merely gave a small smile, eyes a-twinkle. "I assure you, Mr. Weasley, that the thought had crossed my mind." His smile grew broader when Ron blushed in embarrassment. "We've checked and rechecked and I have personally verified Miss Granger's identity via Legilimency. The circumstances surrounding her arrival are extraordinary, to say the least, and I can understand that you would be hesitant to believe her identity."

Arthur Weasley now spoke, giving Ron a pointed look to sit. "Perhaps you should tell them how you came to be here, Hermione. It might help us all understand what has happened." He gave her a kind look.

Hermione looked at their faces, trying to judge what their reactions to her story would be. "Well," she started hesitantly, "I know that this will all sound a bit odd to you, but please bear with me." She paused to gather her thoughts. Looking down at the finger her wedding ring had formerly occupied, she continued, "I'm not exactly the Hermione Granger that you knew so many years ago." Ron glanced up sharply, a triumphant look on his face and Ginny shifted in the seat next to Hermione. She ignored them. "Although it might seem a little far-fetched, I'm actually from an alternate reality."

Hermione noticed that the little girl had wandered into the far corner of the room, seemingly uninterested in Hermione's tale. Arthur and Albus both had supportive looks on their faces; Ginny, Ron and Molly simply looked confused. Hermione sighed explosively. "It's like this: there is a theory that there are actually an infinite number of realities that closely resemble our own, or, in some cases, differ radically. These different realities would account for different circumstances. For example, in your reality, the Dark Lord was defeated at the end of your seventh year, Ron. Well, in the reality I came from he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't defeated at all. In my reality, Hogwarts belongs to the Dark Lord and all of you are dead." She said it plainly, ignoring the gasps from Ginny and Molly. Ron's face had gone white, tinged with a bit of confusion. It was Arthur who tried to explain further.

"You all know how smart Hermione is. Well, she discovered a potion that brought her here, to our reality. And, even though I know you didn't mean to do that exactly, my dear, we're all glad that you did." He looked at her with such caring in his eyes that Hermione felt her eyes well up uncontrollably. As she tried to bite back a sob, she found herself being crushed in an awkward hug.

Ron held on to her tightly as he spoke. "I'm so sorry, Mione. I didn't want to believe it was really you and have my hopes dashed. But if it really is you… By Cor, I'm so glad you're here." He was sobbing lightly now, frame still hunched over her chair as he held on to her. With one final squeeze, he straightened, looking embarrassed at his outburst. Hermione simply gave him a shaky smile.

"Me too, Ron. Me too."

Severus Snape was generally pretty accepting of his lot in life; after all, he had a decent job that came with free room and board, the Dark Lord was dead, and he didn't have to deal with Harry "Savior of the Wizarding World" Potter on a day-to-day basis any more.

However, as he looked around at the garish decorations that covered nearly every inch of the Great Hall, he seriously contemplated packing up his belongings and moving to some far away country. Preferably one in which Albus Dumbledore was banned from throwing parties.

Try as he might, Severus had been unable to come up with a valid excuse to avoid the festivities. He had briefly considered poisoning himself, but had decided against it upon realizing that Albus would probably just move the party to the hospital wing to accommodate him.

So, with a look of sour suffering fixed firmly on his face, Severus made his way to the darkest corner of the room. He may have no choice in being here, but he'd be damned if he would be stuck making small talk (even the thought made him ill) with the Weasleys and Longbottom.

Upon reaching his dark corner, Severus gave Albus a smirk. The elderly wizard was ensconced between Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonogall, a look of delighted glee on his face. Severus nodded at him as if to say, You got me here, old man. But you are decidedly not going to make me enjoy myself. Albus understood. After all, it was the same look Severus gave him every year.

Leaving Albus to his merriment, Severus settled into a chair and pulled Practical Potions Weekly from his pocket. Since he was likely to be stuck here until at least midnight, he might as well catch up on his reading. Quickly settling into his reading, occasionally muttering about the idiots they let publish these days, Severus almost missed the silence that fell over the hall.

Sensing that something was amiss, he glanced up from the journal. He quickly catalogued the faces of the hall's inhabitants. Some were clearly shocked, others confused. The Weasley clan seemed excited but otherwise unaffected, and Dumbledore looked positively jubilant.

Ah, Severus thought as his eyes tracked to the double doors, our resident Lazarus has arrived.

Gradually the sound in the room resumed its normal pitch, although somewhat tinged with curiosity. The ersatz Miss Granger began moving across the room towards the Weasleys. She looked stunning in the dark green robes she wore, and that neckline was simply sinful.

Whoa there, Snape old boy. That's about enough of that. Severus resolutely shoved the thoughts of how good the woman looked to the back of his mind. He resolved to mix up a wit-sharpening potion when he got back to his quarters. He was obviously slipping.

He narrowed his eyes, letting his suspicions of the woman come to the forefront of his mind. She was laughing gaily at something Arthur Weasley had just said. Just great, Severus thought. She had clearly wasted no time wrapping the Minister of Magic around her finger. Now Severus would have an even harder time convincing Dumbledore of her lies.

His mind drifted back to his encounter with her in Hogsmeade. She had seemed genuinely disturbed at being discovered by Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom. But if she was truly trying to establish herself as Hermione Granger, why had she gone to such lengths to tame her hair and glamour her eyes?

Severus shook his head. It wouldn't do to let his guard down around her. She clearly was far more cunning than he had originally suspected.

Severus was startled out of his reflection when he heard a woman's voice shout "Enough!" He was out of his chair, searching the room for possible threats before his mind even registered it. His eyes quickly found the source of the disturbance. The Granger impostor was standing, speaking to Ron Weasley. Severus began to move towards them but stopped, rooted into place as a look of undiluted grief briefly crossed her face. It was as though her emotions had been laid bare before him. Maybe that was the reason he found himself following her as she turned and bolted from the hall, robes streaming behind her.

Maybe that was the reason he found himself wondering if she was all right.

Maybe he needed that wit-sharpening potion.

Hermione was desperately trying to come up with a reason to avoid Albus's party. She had even briefly considered poison, but had discounted the idea upon realizing that Albus would probably just move the party to the hospital wing to accommodate her.

So now she found herself standing before the doors to the Great Hall, hair tamed, cosmetic charms in place and regally decked out in her new robes. The robes were the only good thing about the whole situation.

After her meeting with the Weasleys today, Hermione didn't feel up to doing much of anything, let alone socializing with a bunch of people she hardly knew. After Ron's little outburst, Hermione had spent the next couple of hours being grilled by Ron, Ginny and Arthur and being mothered by Molly. Finally, in an act Hermione would have gladly kissed him for, Albus had ushered the ginger clan out the door and practically pushed Hermione into the floo after telling her not to be late for his party.

Hermione had spent the rest of the day in a state of shock, trying to recover from emotions of the day. She had managed to do so only a few hours before the party and had been forced to hurry to get ready.

The only upside to the day had been meeting Ron's little girl, Sophie. At some point during the interrogation, Ron had started fighting with Ginny. Sophie had stealthily slid into Hermione's lap as she watched the two fight and proceeded to tell Hermione that "My name's Sophie and I'm four and that's my Daddy and he says Mummy needed a vacation and I have a dog named Sammy and Daddy said he's gonna teach me to fly a broom and…" Eventually, the words all blurred together, but Hermione got the gist. She'd held onto the girl for the rest of the conversation, drawing strength from her innocence and wishing desperately that she could escape.

Escape she had, but now Hermione had to face the music. With every ounce of Gryffindor bravado she possessed, Hermione opened the door and stepped inside.

The silence that greeted her nearly made her turn tail and run.

Lifting her chin defiantly, Hermione tried to ignore the gawking faces around her and made her way resolutely towards the Weasleys. They, at least, weren't surprised to see her and, while their greetings were certainly exuberant, they didn't ask stupid questions like everyone else in the room was no doubt dying to do. They'd already done that earlier.

"Hermione, come sit by me." she heard Ron say. With a small smile, she settled herself beside him, accepting the butterbeer he handed her.

"We were just discussing your incredible story, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley said exuberantly. Of course you were, Hermione thought darkly, what else would you be doing.

"That's nice. Glad I could keep you entertained." She saw Albus frown out of the corner of her eye but ignored him.

Mrs. Weasley looked momentarily uncertain but quickly overcame it. Suddenly, Hermione felt bad. She didn't mean to be so short with Mrs. Weasley; she was just tired and stressed. "Well, yes. Of course. Tell me, dear. Where did you get those robes. They're absolutely stunning."

Hermione started to answer when she was distracted by a dark figure in the shadows. Snape. No doubt spying on her, as though he had reason to believe she would do anything in the middle of a party. She sighed, pushing him from her thoughts. Giving a small smile, she answered Molly, "Gladrags. I actually got them…"

But Molly had already moved on to the next subject. "Did you hear that Elfera Mosely's son…" Hermione tuned her out. From beside her Ron said, "Hope Mum's not bothering you too much. She never did deal with a shock very well, and seeing you was, well… you know."

Hermione gave him a genuine smile. "That's okay. She is a bit much to take right now, but it's okay. It's kind of endearing."

Ron frowned. "You know, she and Dad took it pretty hard when you died. They'd started to see you as part of the family and since your parents were dead they felt sorta responsible for you."

Hermione knew she should have felt some kind of shock upon learning that her parents hadn't survived in this reality either, but she didn't. She'd dealt with that grief years ago. Instead she said, "Ron, it's okay. Really. I love your mother like my own and it actually feels kind of good to have someone mother me right now."

He smiled again, relieved. "That's great, Mione." Hermione was glad Ron was with her. She could already feel her bad mood lifting. As the evening wore on, they shared stories of their respective lives. At first, Ron was hesitant to speak about his personal life, but eventually broke down and told Hermione how his wife had left him six months earlier. Despite his revelations, he seemed hesitant to tell her more; Hermione decided not to push him. "You know," he hesitantly said after a lull in the conversation, "since you're back now maybe you and I could…"

Hermione didn't let him get any further. "Ron, I'm flattered but now is not a good time. And, well, the thing is I was married and he just recently…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mione. I didn't realize. Was he… well, was it someone I know?"

"Actually, he was a teacher at Hogwarts. We were married for six years."

"Oh, that's great, Mione. A teacher's a great match for you." Suddenly he started to laugh. "Oh, wouldn't it be hilarious if you had married Snape. What with you-"

"Hilarious." Hermione intoned flatly. Ron paused, confused by the coldness he detected in her voice.

"Yeah… uh, okay there, Mione?" he asked tentatively, aware of the tension that had settled between them.

Hermione stood. "I think I need to get out of here." she said without preamble. Her face was pale but otherwise betrayed no emotion.

Ron stood. "Sure, Mione. We could go for a walk."

"No, Ron. I need…" her voice failed her momentarily. "I need to be alone."

"Uh, okay. Umm… look, I'm sorry about the Snape comment. Probably reminded you of your teacher husband, huh?"

"Enough!" she said loudly. "Just do me a favour and stop talking, Ron." She was shaking noticeably, anger at Ron's comments warring with grief. She opened her mouth to apologize- after all, he wasn't being intentionally cruel- but no sound would emerge. Instead, Hermione whirled and ran from the room.

Once outside the Great Hall, Hermione forced herself to slow. She was angry, not at Ron, but at herself. She shouldn't have been surprised at his comments; she sincerely doubted this Ron cared for Snape anymore than the one she had known.

But her pain was still too near the surface; she should never have come to the damn party to begin with. Between Ron and Snape she knew she didn't have a chance in Hell of enjoying herself.

Suddenly, she found herself outside, cold biting into her. The rose garden, she thought dimly. Severus had always hated the roses, said they were "far too pretentious for a flower." She plucked a bloom from the bush, inhaling its heady scent. She almost considered blasting the other buds from the bush to vent her anger. It had always seemed to work for Sev…

Her eyes welled with now familiar tears and she stifled a sob. She would not break down in the middle of the damn rose garden. She turned to go back inside-

And came face to face with the arrogant posture, pale countenance and flaxen hair that could only mean-

Malfoy.