Chapter 8: The Morning After

The next day dawned brightly and more than a little too early for the castle's inhabitants. Snape blearily made his way to the Great Hall. He'd spent most of the night in front of his fireplace, a glass of fire-whiskey in one hand, his thoughts occupied by a bushy-haired woman. Draco's words had haunted him, even made him doubt his suspicions of her, and that didn't set well with Snape. His mind argued back and forth for most of the night, suspicion warring with logic, until Snape had silenced his internal struggle with a draught of Dreamless Sleep.

Even that hadn't kept his mind quiet for long. He had awoken early, unable to fall back asleep and unwilling to give his mind time to resume its conflict.

So Snape found himself joining the queue of other exhausted, hung-over party goers. He hadn't even bothered to take a Hang-over Relief potion; the throbbing in his temple actually served to drown out his troubled thoughts. It also had the side effect of making him even more unpleasant than normal, which served to frighten away any early morning conversationalists. That suited Snape just fine.

The Headmaster had dispensed with the normal seating arrangements in the hall, so Snape was forced to sit with the other diners. He seated himself as far away as he could from them and poured a cup of coffee. He began to feel marginally more human as he sipped the bitter beverage. He briefly set his cup down to glower at Professor Hooch when she attempted to move towards him; she frowned and decided against approaching him.

Satisfied that he had made his wish to be left alone clear, Snape idly nibbled on a piece of dry toast and looked around the table. He didn't see his Godson, nor did he note the presence of the newly reunited Gryffindor Trio. He was a little disappointed not to see the former, but was profoundly grateful that he didn't have to suffer the latter. Somewhere in the middle of that thought, Snape realized that his mind had come to a conclusion. He reluctantly allowed himself to accept that the woman he had stumbled onto in his office nine days ago was, as she claimed to be, Hermione Granger.

Logically, he had been unable to discover any evidence to prove that she was an imposter. For the last few days, his refusal to accept reality had mostly stemmed from his own formidable ego. The idea of being wrong had never set well with Snape and this situation was no different. Unfortunately, the evidence that he had managed to gather about the woman had all seemed to point, nearly irrevocably, to the fact that she was the long dead Miss Granger. Draco's admonishments had only served to catapult Snape's mind to agreeing with the facts.

His mind drifted back to his memory of her appearance at the party. She had been dressed in Slytherin colors and, as his traitorous mind pointed out, had looked radiant. His mind also felt the need to point out that she wasn't his student (well, actually, she had never been his student), and that he didn't need to feel guilty at finding her attractive. Snape told his mind to bugger off.

Of course, his thoughts of her appearance were quickly overshadowed by the memory of the grief he had beheld on her face prior to her flight from the Great Hall. After witnessing her breakdown in the garden, Snape felt the need to mentally send her a small apology for his earlier brusqueness. Of course, he would never apologize to her in person, but he might treat her a little less harshly from here on out.

Because, if what Albus had told him of her reality was true, he couldn't help feeling sympathy for her. One of his greatest nightmares, even to this day, was living in a world where the Dark Lord had survived. He recalled, with a shudder, how he had felt when Albus told him that the Dark Lord had defeated the forces of good in her world. Idly, he wondered if his counterpart had survived.

Snape was roused from his reverie as the Headmaster entered the hall. Of course, the man was damnably cheerful, though Snape suspected he hadn't yet slept. He groaned when he saw that the old wizard had spotted him and was moving right towards him.

"Severus, my boy. You're up early." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling madly.

Snape waved a hand to decline the lemon drop the Headmaster offered him. "I couldn't bear the thought of letting you eat alone," he replied sarcastically. "Have you even been to bed?" he asked bluntly.

"No, but when you get to be my age, you try not to waste time by sleeping." He sat, poured a cup of coffee and proceeded to dump half the sugar bowl into his drink. Snape grimaced. He had never understood his mentor's fondness for sugar.

"Actually," Albus continued, stealing a piece of toast off Snape's plate, "I had some very good news last night."

"Oh? Do tell," Snape said with mock enthusiasm.

Albus ignored him. "Yes, Arthur tells me that Hermione should be able to get her identity cleared through the Ministry by the end of next week."

Snape looked at the man apathetically. "And why would I care about this news?"

"Well," he said, twinkling madly, "Hermione is, you might find interesting, a Potions Mistress. She'll be taking the Ministry certification tests and I'm thinking of asking her to teach here next year."

Snape's eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline, so shocked was he at the Headmaster's words. It took him a couple of minutes to formulate a response, during which Albus liberally added jam to his toast and looked at him amusedly.

"Am I to be pushed aside to make room for her then?" he finally asked, venom lacing his every word.

The Headmaster laughed, startling a couple of the diners. Snape merely continued to fume, Dumbledore's antics not endearing him to acerbic man. Eventually, he said, "Oh, the look on your face. Actually, and don't tell anyone this, I'm giving you the Defense position. If you're still willing to accept it, that is."

Snape was floored. In the years since the Dark Lord's defeat, Snape had continued to apply for the DADA position. He hadn't really done so out of a real desire to get it, although he wouldn't have objected if he had, but as a sort of running joke between the Headmaster and himself. Whatever Snape had expected the Headmaster to say, it certainly hadn't been this.

"I'm honored, of course, but I do have to ask: what is it that changed your mind?"

"Actually, you owe my reversal of opinion to Miss Granger. She's told me what an excellent Defense teacher you made in her world. And, well actually," he said a little sheepishly, "she admonished me for not having given you the position already."

Snape laughed, startling the Headmaster and shocking the other diners speechless. "Amazing. She really does have you wrapped around her little finger, doesn't she?"

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished, "I think you should be a little more grateful to her-"

"Oh, put your hackles down, old man," he replied lightly. "Although I wouldn't say I'm grateful to her, per se, I am pleased by her confidence in me- or the alternate reality me, as it were. Tell me, did she happen to mention if my counterpart survived the war?"

Albus looked uneasy as he answered vaguely, "I don't quite remember." Snape doubted his statement, but didn't pursue the matter.

"Well, then. I suppose if she passes her Mastery," Snape did look a little dubious about her chances, "I will accept the Defense position. Thank you."

"No thanks necessary, my boy. Well, not to me at least. Miss Granger-"

"Don't push it, Albus," Snape growled. Dumbledore merely smiled and took a bite of his jelly-laden toast.

Hermione blearily opened her eyes, only to immediately close them again against the morning light. Of course, if the color of said light was any indication, it was probably closer to noon.

Hermione blindly grasped for her wand and, upon finding it, cast a Blocking charm on he window. Blissfully, the room went dark. She groggily sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She sat there for a moment with her head in her hands, wishing for the hundredth time that she hadn't agreed to Harry's offer of a quick nightcap.

In between drinks, the Trio had traded stories. Hermione had learned more of Ron's marriage. His wife, a Muggle named Laura, had gotten fed up with the strangeness of the wizarding world. She had stormed out of their small house some months ago, unapologetically abandoning her little girl.

Ron had blubbered drunkenly on Hermione's shoulder for a while, occasionally moaning about how difficult it was to be a single father. Hermione had looked at Harry questioningly. He had merely shrugged and mouthed that Ron hadn't been taking the divorce very well.

Harry, on the other hand, was reluctant to discuss his personal life. Oh, he told her loads of stories about his work as an Auror and his brief stint as Seeker for the Tutshill Tornadoes. But, when she had asked him why he had arrived with Draco, he had simply reddened noticeably and mumbled vaguely. Secretly, she resolved to find out the whole story, but hadn't questioned him any further.

And so, after consuming the three bottles of fire-whiskey Ron had helpfully retrieved from his room, the Trio had cried, laughed and stumbled their way back into a solid friendship.

Her throbbing head reminded her that they probably could have done the same sans fire-whiskey. Hermione told it to bugger off.

It had been nearly dawn before Harry and Ron had deposited Hermione into bed and staggered drunkenly to their own rooms. Hermione glanced at her clock and noted that it was only a few minutes after ten. She couldn't have been asleep more than five hours, but after the day she had had yesterday she knew that hadn't been enough.

But now that she was up, it was going to be impossible to go back to sleep. Hermione pulled herself from her bed, wishing, not for the first time, that she had a Hang-over Relief potion. She missed having a lab that she could brew in, and she silently cursed Snape for being so pig-headed. Still, she remembered that it had taken her nearly a year of constant nagging to get her Severus to consent to letting her use his labs. She got the feeling she would never get the same boon from Snape.

Either the pounding in here head was getting louder, or someone was knocking on the door. She stumbled into the den, sure now that it was knocking. She cracked open the door and was surprised to see a cheerful looking Harry smiling back at her.

"Morning, Hermione. Ready to go to breakfast?"

Hermione bit back the nausea that threatened her at the sound of food. "How in Hell can you be so cheerful?" she asked irritably, opening the door to let him enter.

Harry held up a small phial and thrust it into her hand. "Hang-over relief potion. Draco was kind enough to procure a couple for us after I nearly bit his head off this morning."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his pronouncement but didn't pursue it, instead downing the blessed potion. She immediately felt her head clear and the room stopped spinning. "Thanks," she told Harry as she collapsed bonelessly onto the loveseat.

"No problem. I thought you might appreciate the chance to see the Weasleys before they left this morning."

"Ron's leaving?" she asked disappointedly.

"No, actually he and Soph are going to stay for a while. He… well I don't think he really feels like going back to his house right now."

"He's had a rough time lately, hasn't he?"

"Oh, not like you have," he said apologetically, "but, yeah, he's been taking Laura's leaving pretty poorly. He still hasn't told Sophie that her mom left her."

"Yeah, she told me her 'Mummy needed a vacation.'"

"You know, I don't know if I should mention this, but…" Harry trailed off, looking a little uncertain.

"What, Harry?"

"It's just, well… Ron told me how glad he was that you were back. I don't know if you knew, but he had been dating you- or this world's Hermione, rather- when she died. I know he was crazy about her."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione sighed, plucking absently at her nightshirt. "My husband hasn't even been dead for two weeks. I can't think about Ron; I'm not sure if I'd ever be able to see him like that."

Harry sat beside her, taking her hand in his own. "I understand, Hermione. Don't feel bad. I just thought you should know how he felt. So you wouldn't be surprised or anything."

Hermione gave his hand a small squeeze and stood up. "I appreciate that, Harry," she said as she made her way to her bedroom door. "If you don't mind waiting a couple minutes for me to get ready, I do think I'd like to see the Weasleys before they leave."

"No problem, Hermione. Take all the time you need." He stretched out to lie askance on the loveseat. He smiled as he closed his eyes. "I might catch a few zee's while you're getting ready."

Hermione shut the door behind her and quickly got ready. Harry's warning about Ron was bouncing around her head wildly. She loved Ron but she could never love him like he apparently wanted her to. Even if she wasn't grieving for Severus, she knew she could never be with Ron. They were simply too dissimilar. They'd tear each other apart in a relationship.

Satisfied that she didn't look too much like the living dead, Hermione stepped back into the den. She roused Harry from his nap and together they made their way to the Great Hall.

Hermione entered the hall and immediately scanned the room to see if Snape was present. She was relieved to note that he was not. She really didn't want to deal with his scathing looks this morning. She and Harry made their way to the section of table that was currently occupied by the Weasley clan. Mrs. Weasley stood quickly and gathered Hermione in a tight hug. "How are you this morning, dear? We were worried about you when you ran from the party last night."

"I'm fine, Molly. I just got a little overwhelmed last night." Mrs. Weasley looked dubious, but quickly dropped the subject. "Well, come sit here beside me and get some food. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over." Her motherly tone warmed Hermione. She sat between Molly and Harry, taking a few biscuits and a cup of tea. She looked around and, not seeing Ron, gave Harry a questioning look.

"No potion," he whispered. His eyes suddenly brightened and Hermione followed his gaze to the hall doors. There, in all his platinum glory, was Draco Malfoy.

"Hey, handsome," Draco said to Harry, dropping onto the bench beside him. Hermione was surprised to note Arthur Weasley's casual greeting and Molly's cheerful "Morning, Draco dear." Harry just winced a little and gave Hermione an embarrassed smile.

"Morning, Granger," Draco drawled, an amused look on his face. "I hope the potion I nicked for you worked satisfactorily."

"It worked just fine." Eventually, she steeled herself and ground out, "Thanks."

Harry looked a little relieved and instantly brightened. "Draco and I are going to be staying a couple more days. Maybe we can snag Ron and go down to The Three Broomsticks together."

Hermione was a little dubious at the thought of spending an evening with Draco. "Yeah, maybe."

Harry's grin faltered. "If you don't want-"

"Now, Harry. I'm sure Granger would love to go out with us. Right, Granger?"

Hermione started to reply, but Harry cut her off. "Stop it, Draco. You've got no reason to dislike Hermione, so stop acting like you do."

"Oh, I don't dislike her," he defended, "but I get the feeling she doesn't particularly like me."

Harry turned to Hermione. "Is that true, Hermione? Do you dislike Draco?"

Hermione struggled to answer. "Harry, I don't know what the Draco you know is like, but the one I knew was a Death Eater and one of the Dark Lord's most important lieutenants. I guess I can't help but be a little wary of him."

Draco looked surprised; Harry looked a little ill. "I didn't know," Harry finally replied. "I guess I forgot that things were different where you came from. But I trust Draco with my life. I… well, I want you two to get along, is all."

Hermione noted that Draco had a small smile on his face as he lightly touched Harry's shoulder. "Thanks," she heard him whisper to Harry. "Harry's right. I'm no Death Eater." He shuddered before continuing. "Actually, me and you used to be pretty chummy. Before you died that is."

Hermione sighed. "I can't make any promises, Harry. Draco. But I'll try. It's just hard to forget years worth of hatred."

Draco looked at her searchingly. "Was I- he- really all that bad?"

Hermione shuddered. "The worst. He… well, just never mind. You're not him and if Harry trusts you, well, then I will try to." She smiled at him, relaxing a little. "After all, Harry's usually a pretty good judge of character."

Draco laughed, "You're gonna give him a big head talking like that." He ruffled Harry's hair affectionately before turning back to his breakfast.

Harry leaned towards Hermione and whispered conspiratorially, "Like his ego isn't twice as big as mine could ever be." Hermione laughed, earning Harry a punch on the shoulder from Draco. As Harry turned to speak to him, Hermione let her attention wander to the rest of the Weasley's. She spoke with Ginny and Neville for a while, catching up on their engagement details. Eventually, she began a conversation with Molly concerning the latest cleaning charms. The conversations were so normal that Hermione momentarily forgot that she wasn't in her own world anymore.

"Hermione," Arthur interrupted. "I have some good news. I should be able to get your identity cleared through the Ministry later this week."

Hermione smiled brightly. "Thank you so much, Arthur. That was a lot quicker than I thought it would be."

"Yes, well… There's still a lot of paperwork to be done. I've told Albus to come down with you. With his endorsement, we'll get you fixed up in no time. I assume you'll be wanting to take your Ministry certification tests?"

"Oh! Absolutely. I didn't realize I would be able to so soon. This is great news. Thank you again." For the first time since arriving here, Hermione felt like she might actually have a chance at a real life.

"Ministry certification for what?" Molly asked politely.

"Potions Mistress. I was one in my world."

"Oh, my!" she said. "You'll be able to give old Severus a run for his money."

A voice from over her head asked, "Run for my money about what?"

Hermione froze. When had he appeared? Molly continued, "Severus. We were just discussing Hermione's Potions Mistress certification."

"Indeed," he said, coming into Hermione's line of sight. Hermione blushed as he looked at her scrupulously. "How interesting." His gaze searched hers intently before moving on.

"Well, yes," Molly said uncertainly. "Umm…"

"Arthur," Snape said, ignoring the Weasley matron. "Albus wishes you to join us in his office before you leave."

Arthur stood, giving them all an apologetic look. "I'll meet you in the rooms later, dear." he said to Molly. "I'll see the rest of you later. Hermione, I'll see you at the Ministry."

As Arthur and Snape walked away, Harry gave a small whistle. "That greasy git. What's his problem with you anyway?"

Hermione didn't reply. She was still reeling from the sensations his gaze had evoked in her. He hadn't given her his normal scathing look; he had almost seemed, well… civil, for lack of a better word.

"Oh, he'll never change. Don't you worry about him, dear," Molly said. But Hermione was worried. She could deal with suspicious, bastard Snape. But a Snape that was pleasant (as pleasant as that man could be, at any rate)? That worried Hermione to no end.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. A bit of bad news: I may be slow updating the next chappie as an outbreak of writer's block has been sighted in my area. Hopefully, I can recover from it quickly. Until then, send me some more wonderful reviews! They do wonders motivating my plot bunnies :)

Big shout out the the ever impressive sophierom, my superb beta!