Disclamer: The people in this tory aren't mine (but Severus is my little piggy of love)


Author's Note: Another chapter of Never go to bed angry stay up and fight...

I'm having a huge author's block with my other fic 'Angelic Layer'.

Sorry about not updating that story right now. Hope you'll enjoy these chapter!


Hermione was in the kitchen. She smiled sadly to herself when she remembered all the times she was eating with her parents. She shrugged her head and started to make coffee and warm the water for the tea.

There was a grocery list on the fridge. "Must buy: oil (for food, NOT motor like last time), milk, cream, batteries, veggies, chocolate (ask H. for wizard kind). Hermione opened the fridge and took out milk. The tears started to fall from her eyes silently.

Hermione felt so, so guilty. How many times had she wishes –even prayed- for this to happen? What sordid god had heard her prayer, and furthermore, what made him answer to it?

Sure she hadn't liked them, but she didn't hate them; they were her parents after all. They were normal parents. Normal, nice parents, those parents who called her Mimi. Because it was so 'cute'.

But who was she after all? Was she really Hermione the Know-It-All? Or was she Jane, Seth's wonderful daughter? Or was Mimi her true self? She asked herself one of the simplest, yet the most difficult question a human being could ask oneself.

She poured the coffee in a cup, pressed Seth's juice, put the tea on the trolley and made herself a drink. With some alcohol.

Alcohol was good. Makes onecheery.

Hermione knew how she looked when she cried: ugly. One thing that made her stop immediately crying was alcohol. Which was also the international cure against boredom.

Hermione bend down and took out a whiskey bottle out of the cupboard under the sink. She poured in Severus's coffee a rather generous tad of Fire Whiskey.

If he wanted something strong, preferably caffeine with alcohol; and she was going to prove him just how well she could mix her own little potions.

She took out a chocolate box and put it on the tray. A thing her mother learned her. Her real mother; the pretty one.

Hermione walked carefully forwards, her eyes fixed on the tray, careful not to drop anything. Severus averted his eyes from the photographs of Hermione to the real person herself. She smiled to him.

He saw that she had cried. He felt some strange feeling in his stomach.

It has surly something to do with her eyes. That golden colour of hers is really unnerving. She's exactly like Béhotéguy; she also had a strange eye colour.

Not really knowing what to do or say, Severus's eyes fell on the tray.

"- One of the coffees is for you."

"- Thank you."

Severus drank his brewage and started to cough. Hermione looked at him and smiled like some kind of raving psycho.

"- Ragh… Let me guess Miss Granger, whiskey and coffee?

"- Firewhiskey, yes indeed."

"- I have to admit, you have quite a good taste in food."

"- Oh my, a compliment from the Slytherin King himself to the Gryffindor Know-It-All!"

Severus cracked a smile, and Hermione, agreeably surprised, laughed. He remembered the first person who made that trick to him.

Flashback

"- Does anyone want to have coffee?"

"- Béhotéguy, why are you always screaming through the apartment, although there is only both of us? "

"- Sorry – I'm not used to have only one person here. We really are lucky! This is a good way to begin your life out of Hogwarts, right?"

Béhotéguy stepped in the room, half naked and hair messy. Severus sat up, letting some space to Béhotéguy to sit down. She handed him the coffee and he took a good sip of it… and almost immediately spit it out.

"- Béhotéguy, what is this stuff? Warmed up coca cola with alcohol in it?"

"- Nope! It's the best coffee EVER! Try again! It's a mix of coffee and whiskey!"

"- Béhotéguy, everything having alcohol tastes good in your mouth."

Severus drank prudently again and felled how the brewage warmed him much more than butter beer. Or maybe it was Béhotéguy's violet eyes.

End Flash Back

Severus cradled the hot mug in his hand, now decimating the last picture of Hermione with his dark eyes.

He felt Hermione's eyes on his eyelids, but continued watching the pictures around the framed one.

He heard her head snapping to the side, and could see her face studying the pictures laid in front of her as well.

She watched them hard, as if they could start moving with the sheer power of her will. But the pictures remained motionless, the people on them frozen on iced paper, happy for ever.

She heard her father's voice again, singing to her as he did when she was a little girl….

"Yesterday seemed very dark, but now it's bright,
your clouds have gone away.
Sensory perception peaking at this time,
electric waves of sound are filling Jane's mind today…"

Severus turned his head slowly, so to be able to watch the girl. She was Angela's daughter; no doubt in that. She was fading away like her; drowning maybe in her memories. Her memories that sang to her, because he too, could hear faintly a tune playing in his head.

He knew that song.

"- Calling out to Jane as you drift away, "Don't be afraid,
they're only your illusions anyway.""

Hermione's hands let abruptly go of the tray to come and cover her mouth.

Her song! Her own little song was stolen away from her by none other than Snape! He sang it softly, so very quietly she could barely hear it. But she knew he was singing it.

Even if the song was from a known band, she never, ever heard it sung by anyone else than her father, or the Queensryshe. Never anyone else had sung it.

Hermione felt profaned. Someone had violated her memories; some one had stolen her childhood's only comfort.

Severus had quickly caught the tray before it had hit the floor. Some fruit juice was splattered on the tray, and almost all the tea was on the hall's carpet. But miraculously, Hermione's coffee was still intact, as well as his own cup he had stuck under his armpit.

Hermione stared at him dumbly. She knew it was stupid of her, but she felt like hitting her teacher and cry, because something that was hers was now more.

Severus held the tray with a shaking hand, whilst thinking about something smart to say. He had realized he has done something to upset Hermione. It was written all over her pretty, serious and pale face.

None of them noticed how Dumbledore was looking at them.

Her aunt and uncle loved her. They often took her with them out on a little walk in the park.

They would put Hermione in her prettiest (and most expensive) dress and put small pearly white shoes on her feet. They'll install her like a queen in the baby carriage, careful to put her in a sitting position.

And then, they would take the subway for half an hour to finally go to the biggest park in London. There, they would browse in the park, pushing the carriage side by side, pretending to be Hermione's parents.

They were a postcard perfect family. The fair haired, Caucasian man with tasteful cloths on, healthy and cheery. The pretty wife, with dark hair but clear eyes, wearing a light dress on, radiant and happy. And the perfect baby, with her blue eyes and her tuff of blond brownish hair.

The family every one envied. The one who only knew the words 'poverty', 'abuse' and 'problems' from the dictionary. The family you maybe dreamed for when you just had a row with your parents. A family that would make you cry if were a runaway, a whore, a junkie, or an alcoholic.

The kind of family psychopaths would murder.

But when Hermione was with her aunt and uncle she didn't smile. She would turn the corner of her mouth upwards if she noticed an admirer, but most of the time she sat and sighed. Her dress was too hot, it itched, the shoes too small and uncomfortable. Often, she wanted home to her mother and father.

And when she wanted to her real parents, she made the worst thing anyone could imagine her do.

Cry.

Now, when Hermione was born she had made a horrible sound.

Her crying was way beyond that. When she cried, you went not only deaf, but blind as well. Her screams were so high perched, that the finest of the crystals broke. Her scream stopped any logical thinking. It made one go wild.

Wild with despair and hurt. That scream woke up the very deepest instincts of the people around her. Those screams reminded them of the Stone Age, where humans were eaten up by the night, unable to protect themselves.

Her screams were the mix of someone agonizing; someone losing a loved one, someone unable to do anything, of someone completely had lost hope in life. And such a sound coming out a baby was terrifying.

If baby had the right to use such a scream, a baby so young, so innocent, so ignorant of the world, so how could it be that them, the adults couldn't scream too?

Everyone hearing the cries would rash to see what was happening. People would be scandalized by the cries and the picture of the perfect would be broken right away, shattered in the wind.

The uncle and aunt had to realize it wasn't a good idea to go out on a walk with Hermione without her parents, her real parents.

They hadn't understood what or why she cried in the beginning. They thought that maybe a pin from her dress was

They hated to see the real family walk together.

They looked idyllic; not perfect.

He was too tall, too shabby, too young. His hair was dyed black and the sides were shaved away. His hair would either be braided in a pony tail or spiked up with gel. His chin was unshaved and scratchy. His eyes would surely be surrounded by dark purple rings but crinkled up with joy. There was a safety-pin in his left eye brow and a tattoo of a pin-up on his arm. He had most often his leather jacket on and a pair of black combat boots. Chains and skull rings would decorate his hands and wrists.

She would be so pretty, wearing a long, dark purple coat covered in silver stars and moons. Her hair was set free to dance in the wind. She wore fingerless white gloves and very pink nail polish. Most of the time she was wearing a skirt or a dress and you could see the white or black woollen thighs peeking under her coat when she walked. Her shoes were white and black striped and had small bells attached to them. Her face was still pale, but not tragic anymore. She would often warm her face up with carefully chosen make-up.

Hermione would be covered in warm cloths she received from her admirers of parent's friends and if her horrible grandparents hadn't come to visit them, a thing they almost did daily, little Hermione would have her hair put in spikes, like her fathers.

They were the epitome of happiness and hope. They walked around in the 'slums' they lived in, and when the junkies, homeless or whores saw them, it gave them hope for a better life.

Time passed by. Hermione's first birthday was a horrible event. At least the beginning had been.

Her grandparents and aunt had made an enourlmous party for 'her'. Everyone invited did barely know Hermione's father, and ignored her mother. Her aunt and uncles pranced around with her in their arms, showing off.

Not rectifying if people thought it was their child. All found it oh-so-clever for dentists to give such a pretty unusual Shakespearian name to the adorable little baby. Hermione was tossed from arms to arms.

Once in a while, her father would take her in her arms and gently whisper his lullaby in her ear.

"Lady Jane your eyes are wide today,
and the world is looking very strange, you must proclaim!
It's quite a scary, scary ride we take, Lady Jane."

Her mother couldn't find the words to say how accurate those paroles were. The baby seemed to ask her with her eyes why she didn't do anything to rectify the situation.

She snapped when the old neighbours next door kissed Hermione and asked Marigold how she hd managed to stay so slim after the pregnancy.

They both fully knew that she, she was Hermione's mother. She, beautiful fragile she, and if they ignores her, may it be so, but they had no right to insult her love.

They had something of their own, and every one was now eager to have it. They had ignores her and Seth until now, now when they finally had something to live for.

She walked briskly to them and snatched her baby from their prying hands.

"- She is my daughter, do you hear me? MY DAUGHTER!"

She looked so angry. It looked like she was becoming crazy. Her body trembled and she tears of anger slipped out from her eyes.

"- She's my child. MINE! She's not Marigold's or Sebastian. She'll never be. She'll be forever mine and Seth's. You can try to change her, but we are rooted in her. We gave her life, and trust me; no one EVER can take from her. Her life is hers; not yours."

Without knowing in, she had pronounced a prophecy. Her daughter was going to get kidnapped by her sister and brother-in-law.

But she couldn't know that, she had taken her child away, leaving behind her an embarrassing silence and even more embarrassed people. Marigold had been livid, and the hypocritical sisterly love she had for Angela turned into deep, bottomless hate.

How dared this junkie clame Hermione like that? She couldn't be a proper mother:

But Marigold knew it was false. Marigold would give her child a wonderful life; even if Angela was poor and uneducated, only by her sheer beauty, a beauty you knew wouldn't fade, she could make anyone's life bearable.

And if she couldn't take care of her child, Seth would do it. He took of her; he wouldn't mind take care of an extra little baby person.

But nothing can be as effective as a desperate woman who wants a child. And Marigold was one of these persons.

She started whishing in her heart that one day she could prove to every one what a great mother she could be. She cradled her wish in her chest, often smiling a dark smile. She prayed for horrible things to happen to Angela and Seth.

Marigold knew one day her prayers would be answered. She knew that when her chance would come, she wouldn't let go of it.

Hermione would be her daughter. And if not in front of the law, well then, she'll beHermione's mother in her heart.


Author's note: if anyone, anyone could help me with my other fic, then please do.

But reviews for this story are highly appreciated off course! °nudge, nudge, wink wink° Reviews inspire me...