This chapter helps solidify the canon compliance (minus the epilogue, of course). This chapter covers the events in the HBP chapters, Hermione's Helping Hand, Silver and Opals, and The Secret Riddle from Hermione's perspective plus some behind the scenes additions from yours truly.

I'm sorry about the end POV. It just happened.

Chapter 7

Hermione's Unhelpful Feelings

Over the next week, Hermione tried to make progress on her additional research tasks while keeping up with her N.E.W.T. level coursework, but the second week of advanced courses and a full study schedule kept her busy. Harry and Ron did not appear to have noticed any changes in her behavior or personality, which she was glad of, and she herself tried to avoid thinking about her knowledge of the future.

Ron, she also tried to avoid thinking about.

Ron was still one of her best friends, and she still got butterflies in her stomach when he grinned at her, but the problem was that they were only butterflies. Whatever wild animal was stampeding around her chest when Snape passed in the hallways, when he glared down from the high table in the Great Hall, when she would steal furtive glimpses of him in Defense class…that animal ate butterflies for breakfast.

So, Ron Weasley was now associated with butterflies and guilt, and Hermione did her best to accommodate and feed the butterflies rather than the guilt. After all, she wasn't promised to Snape at this point, whatever she had glimpsed of the future.

One of Hermione's greatest weaknesses was the need for control. Even given what Future-Hermione had said about not feeling resentful about her choices or supposed lack of them, she hated this sense that she had lost control of the scenario and her raging hormones. Despite how passionately Snape had kissed and held her, she couldn't help missing the idea of the sweet friendship-turned-love she had pictured with Ron. Ron didn't hate her at any rate, at least not this week.

If Harry noticed any differences between Ron and Hermione, he said nothing, though he may have been distracted by schoolwork and recalling his trip through the Pensieve with Dumbledore. Harry had already had his first private lesson with Dumbledore just before Hermione had left and come back, but Hermione had not had much time to dwell on the bits of Tom Riddle's history he had relayed. Hermione was simply hoping that her attempts at extorting the Headmaster for her next mission through time had not affected Harry's relationship with him.

Professor Snape had not kept his word to brew the antivenin within the week, or at least, he had not involved Hermione if he had. She knew him to be busy with teaching classes, grading, and whatever Order or Death Eater business normally kept him occupied, so she wasn't too concerned…yet. Additionally, Dumbledore had not been seen by the students since Hermione's return meeting, so she presumed that Snape was waiting for Dumbledore to be on hand when any brewing took place. When Harry finally commented on the Headmaster's absence on Saturday at breakfast, Hermione had suggested that it could be due to potential Order business. Hermione at least felt she could hint at this to her friends.

On the way down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the team tryouts, she witnessed Lavender Brown making eyes at Ron, and Ron loving the attention. He strutted down to the changing rooms with Harry as Hermione followed behind, glowering and feeling guilty again.

She should feel jealous, shouldn't she? She would have felt jealous of Ron and Lavender flirting a week or two ago.

Even just last week during the first potions class of the year, Hermione had to stop herself from admitting in front of the entire class that the last wafting smell from the Amortentia smelled distinctly like Ron. Freshly mown grass, new parchment, and…mint. As the daughter of dentists, she could simply brush it off as spearmint toothpaste if she had tried to lie, but…Ron had started using a new tea tree oil and peppermint shampoo over the summer. It covered up his dank, sweaty smell that made her wrinkle her nose, and it did remind her of home.

Although, she thought worriedly, a freshly-showered Professor Snape smells like new parchment.

Later that morning, Hermione didn't have any second thoughts about using the Confundus Charm on Cormac McLaggen so that Ron could best him in Quidditch tryouts. This helping hand would assuage the guilt, right? Afterwards she peppered Ron with compliments on how magnificent and brilliant he had been for good measure, or at least just to help push the gonging sounds out of her chest that still resided after watching Snape in Defense class the day before.

After tryouts, the trio decided to visit Hagrid and console him, since he was a bit miffed that they had all dropped Care of Magical Creatures. After his initial gruffness, Hagrid had softened and jokingly mentioned the Time-Turners they would have needed to use in order to fit his class into their busy schedules. Hermione firmly reminded him, and the other two, that all the Time-Turners had been smashed last summer.

Hopefully, they wouldn't be too mad at her if they ever found out about the other one in the Headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore had insisted she hand it back to him when she returned.

The following week was Hermione's 17th birthday. On the morning of the day itself, she eagerly opened the small package addressed from John and Helen Granger. She had checked off the item on her list about writing to her mum a few days prior, so she was doubly excited to read the letter enclosed.

Dear Hermione,

Happy 17th Birthday to our sweet grown-up girl! It's so hard to believe you are another year older already. Have classes been going well? We are happy to hear that you received top grades and were accepted into all the advanced courses you wanted (GECKOs, weren't they?).

It's so funny that you ask about family history, because I (Mum here) have just been diving into genealogy study in my free time. As I'm sure you remember, Grandmum's maiden name was Perri, and I have discovered that her family was from the Calabrian region of southern Italy. I think there must be some French blood on that side of the family too due to some of the given first and middle names, but I will update you on that when I learn more.

I have recently come across some family heirlooms from my mum's side after poking through old albums and boxes, including one from my great-aunt Anna Hélène Perri (I'm named Helen after her, you see). She was your Grandmum's godmother, you know, and as family stories have it, she was always a bit eccentric (though probably in the normal godmother way- wouldn't bet on more than one witch in the family!). For your birthday, we thought you would appreciate this necklace from her. I know it's blue and not a Gryffindor red, but sapphire is the September birthstone, and the H for Hélène could easily stand for Hermione. We would love you to wear this and think of your family. I know you have entered a new magical world, and you're considered an adult witch now too, but that's no reason to forget where you come from and the people who helped you get there.

Sending our love to you and hope to hear from you again soon!

Love,

Mum and Dad

Hermione grinned and shook her head at the confusion between N.E.W.T.s and G.E.C.K.O.s before dwelling on the rest of the letter's contents. She gingerly opened the package and took out the sapphire necklace that had belonged to her great-great aunt. It was a simple, circular sapphire pendent on a white-gold setting and chain, with a simple H inscribed on the back. The chain was long enough to fit well under her shirt, and actually reminded her of what it had been like to wear the Time-Turner.

Hermione looked back at the letter and read the postscript.

P.S. Hermione, we know you mentioned taking a long holiday trip soon, but we would hate to leave the practice for too long. We also don't want to spoil the birthday wishes by dwelling on this, but it should probably be addressed.

This danger in the magical world is one we are completely out of our depths with. You said there is no war in your world yet, but you must let us know when the tide begins to turn. We know you don't want to evacuate during the term, but it may become necessary. We love you so much Hermione. Please keep yourself safe.

The tide had already begun to turn, she knew. Hannah Abbot's mother had been found dead the previous week and Hannah had not returned to classes.

That could be my parents, she thought. If I can't convince them to leave…then I might have to make them leave.

Another week went by and Ron and Lavender continued to make eyes at one another. Hermione continued to get aggravated and feel guilty about how little she cared, giving the appearance to Harry and a few others that she cared very much.

Hermione still had not heard from Professor Snape about brewing the antivenin. Harry had begun to gripe about not seeing Dumbledore for his private lessons for a while, so she figured this was still the reason that brewing had been put off yet again.

Still, it needs to be done, she thought. I suppose I'll just have to bring it up with him after class.

This prospect was daunting, however, so she avoided it by moving on to the next item on her list: asking about antivenin healing.

Hermione used the next Slug Club evening get-together to try to breech the subject with Professor Slughorn while simultaneously avoiding Cormac McLaggen. That night, McLaggen had been constantly looking Hermione up and down and trying to chat her up when he wasn't going on about his Uncle Tiberius and the Minister's latest outing together.

Once she had asked Professor Slughorn about how antivenin is used in healing wounds along with blood replenisher and fluid replacement, Slughorn confessed he was adept at brewing, but unfamiliar with much of applicable potions treatments. Now she was caught, however, and she had to listen to the inquiry.

"You're interested in healing, you say, my dear girl? I know quite a few healers, taught them myself! Potions is one of the N.E.W.T.s required for a healing apprenticeship you know. Let's see, there's Galen and Hippocrates Smethwyck, the father-son duo. They're related to the inventor of the Cushioning Charm, you know, and I taught Hippocrates myself. Then I taught a number of Cook and Pye students- Augustus, Octavian, and Domnina are the ones I recall specifically who still work at St. Mungo's. Say," he paused, interrupted from his name dropping momentarily, "are you related to the Cooks? I remember a very pretty brunette with your coloring attending a number of years ago."

"No sir," she replied patiently, knowing she would have to repeat this same conversation a few more times. "And not Hector Dagworth-Granger either. I'm a muggle-born." He had already forgotten this, despite asking her previously. She suspected that it was only the great Harry Potter's praise of her abilities which kept her in Slughorn's good graces.

"No? There was another one too, Pastor? Perkins? Ah, that's alright my dear, too many talented students to remember sometimes…"

I doubt that's true, she thought a bit unkindly. You remember the ones you want to remember.

"…but we do have some descendants from that period here now! Why, Lily Evans was always such a dab hand at potions, and now Mr. Potter is following in his mother's footsteps! She and Professor Snape- he wasn't always Professor Snape, of course- why they were bench partners for several years in my classroom. Played off each other splendidly, always trying to outdo the other for the top marks…That fizzled off in the end of course, for the same reason as it usually does."

"Oh, sir?" She had never heard this before, but if Snape was at Hogwarts the same time as the Marauders, then Harry's mum would have been there too.

"Young love, Miss Granger! No, don't give me that look, not Professor Snape and Miss Evans. No, no, no, we all know how that story ends- with our Mr. Potter here now. No, Professor Snape fancied the Cook girl, or was it the Perkins girl…" Slughorn trailed off, silent for a moment before smiling good-naturedly and shrugging. "I can't recall, but I'll have to ask Severus next time I see him… Speaking of Miss Evans and Mr. Potter, where is the young man this evening? I suppose he's off making the name for himself, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and all!"

Hermione made excuses for Harry, as she tried to sneak away politely. Well, Slughorn was a no-go, so maybe she could find the time to ask Madam Pomfrey?

She went to bed that early that night, determined not to think about what she had learned.

Determined not to dwell on Lavender Brown's simpering giggles and goo-goo eyes at Ron.

Especially determined not to think that even Lavender had not made her grit her teeth like the idea of a very pretty brunette named Miss Cook or Miss Perkins.

A few more weeks went by and Hermione was determined to approach Professor Snape and tell him to get on with brewing the antivenin.

The opportunity came Saturday morning of the first Hogsmeade weekend. She had just finished berating Harry and Ron for fooling around with spells from the annotated copy of Advanced Potion Making when Harry had gotten a missive to appear for another private lesson with Dumbledore.

Perfect, she thought. It means the Headmaster is back in the castle and Snape will have to brew with me.

This was what she thought before the Hogsmeade visit, however.

After skirting around Professor Slughorn's invitation to the next Slug Club evening at Honeydukes, the trio had meant to share butterbeers and a quiet lunch. This was before Harry had caught Mundungus Fletcher pawning off his dead godfather's stolen goods and he caused a scene outside The Three Broomsticks. Harry had shoved Mundungus into the wall and threatened him angrily. Tonks arrived unexpectedly, but fortuitously enough to calm Harry down and diffuse the situation.

When Harry had been soothed, he and Ron entered the Three Broomsticks. Hermione whispered a quick greeting to Tonks and asked if she had gotten the letter Hermione had sent.

Tonks nodded sadly, still sporting her brown, mousy hair. "Thanks for the offer to talk, Hermione, but I don't think it'll help much. That is, unless…" Tonks' eyes widened, and the ends of her hair turned slightly auburn. "Do you think you could talk to Remus, for me? Put in a good word? I know you're close with him. He asks about you about as much as he asks about Harry."

Hermione frowned, confused. Well, she had spoken to Remus Lupin a little bit that summer when he came to supper at The Burrow. They had just talked a little bit about her O.W.L. results, especially her disappointing "E" in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had been kind and encouraging about the less than perfect result and they'd discussed Prefect duties and responsibilities after he had mentioned his own history as a Prefect…but this had hardly been an in-depth conversation. Certainly not enough to mistake them for being "close". Perhaps he felt responsible for the trio since the incident in third year?

"I- I'll write to him, Tonks. What do you mean about the good word?" If she were feeling guilty about her cousin Sirius Black's death, surely Lupin wouldn't be making it worse for her?

At this Tonks paled, shook her head vigorously and her ends became mousy brown again. "Nevermind, Hermione. I'll see you later."

Hermione hadn't even had time to dwell on the odd conversation. Harry was in a foul mood and dwelling on Sirius, so they had headed right back to the castle after downing the butterbeers. On the way, they had seen Katie Bell and her friend arguing and then…

Well, witnessing Katie's possession by a cursed necklace would be enough to make anyone forget items on their to-do list.

Monday was Harry's next private lesson with Professor Dumbledore, so he had already been able to gracefully bow out of the Slug Club meeting taking that evening. Hermione had heard a rumour there would be a famous personality and former student of Slughorn's visiting, but if she had to skive off in order to brew the antivenin with Snape, she would do it.

Hermione stayed behind after Defense Class on Monday afternoon, telling Harry and Ron that she had a question for Professor Snape. She wanted to know how to accurately sync wand movements with nonverbal spells if the brain's reaction time was faster than the mouth's speaking time. It wasn't a lie; it was a valid question she had, but she would save it for later.

Professor Snape looked up at her as the door closed, leaving them alone in the classroom.

He said nothing, simply looking at her without the usual annoyed malice and waiting for her to speak. She guessed he knew why she was there, but he wasn't about to make her any more comfortable.

"Professor Snape," Hermione began, sounding more confident than she felt. "Professor Dumbledore is here today." Then her chest started gonging and groaning at the proximity to him and she lost her nerve. "Would- would this make it…that is…"

"Spit it out, girl."

"The antivenin needs to be brewed." She flushed and her eyes narrowed at his interruption. "I think it makes sense to do it tonight, if you've been waiting for him to be in the castle. It's been weeks since you've gotten the sample-"

"Tonight does not work for me."

Hermione opened her mouth angrily to protest but stopped at the look on his face.

He was not trying to aggravate her or bait her, he simply looked too exhausted to hear her out. Drained. It was strange that she could even tell, as there was no change to his face, stance, or demeanor.

His eyes, she realized. They're soft. The water is still and gentle.

"It has been…a trying weekend." He said quietly, his eyes looking away. "I was called upon to stabilize Miss Bell before her transfer to St. Mungo's." He swallowed, his eyes returning to Hermione. "Now the Headmaster is back in the castle, as you have said, so he has been informed of Miss Bell's hospitalization and the event proceeding it. As such…tonight will not work for me."

Oh, I'm such an idiot. He needs to go report everything to Voldemort. Katie's condition, Dumbledore's reaction. If Voldemort was behind this, he will want to know how it went.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling drained herself. "I'm sorry, Professor." Her heart groaned painfully again at the thought of him reporting to the long-fingered monster she had glimpsed in the Shack.

She opened her eyes after a moment to compose herself, meeting his gaze fiercely. "Let me help. We can start brewing and… I can finish alone if you have… pressing business." She tried to keep the longing out of her eyes. She so wanted to be useful to him.

His eyes widened and he smirked slightly at her phrase, but with his softened eyes it came out more like a sad little half smile.

"I think not, Miss Granger. After all, what would you do with no alibi tonight?" He raised one eyebrow as he kept his small smirk, which caused her face to flush and burn. That look. She hoped she wasn't turning completely red. "Are you expected anywhere?"

She couldn't help but wrinkle her nose and give an annoyed scowl at the thought of something keeping her from seeing him. "Yes sir. Professor Slughorn's office."

"Ah yes, he always had an affinity for…teacher's pets." His black eyes rippled. Last year, even early last month she would have been furious at this remark, but now…

He's teasing me.

"Oh yes sir. He did mention you were one of his students last time we spoke."

Snape scowled and turned his head away slightly, black hair swinging, but she knew what to look for. She saw the upturned corner of his mouth and knew he was amused and trying to hide it. Maybe he's only pretending to hate me.

She couldn't help but beam back at him. He sobered quickly at seeing her smile, returning to his cold façade.

"Later this week, Miss Granger. I will find the time."

"Thank you, Professor. I'll hold you to that."

I am too tired for this, too tired to ignore her anymore. Even the uniform doesn't help, it just makes me remember.

What is she on about, these Order missions she needs to fulfill?

So determined to please. These assignments are just another project; another essay that exceeds the length requirements.

She gets off on it. It thrills her, the accomplishment.

Look at her, she's stammering and shaking with anticipation. A set of perfect O marks would cause another 'O' for her, wouldn't they?

Damn it Severus, don't think about it. This Mata Hari has played you already, don't fall into her clutches again. What kind of score would she receive for her assignment of ensnaring you? Damn it all, top marks.

What did she say? "I can finish alone if you have pressing business?"

Fuck. Don't think about her finishing alone...your pressing business.

Do anything. Tell her she'd do anything for attention. Yes, teacher's pet.

Oh gods, now she's playing coy.

That flirt. That smile. Those lips.

The minx.

I despise her.