Saturday, September 1979

Diagon Alley looked the same, but yet different. They had Apparated to the designated Apparition spot just outside the Leaky Cauldron before making their way down the street. Some of the stores were different, there was a bakery Hermione didn't recognise, a florist, a hairdresser and a few other small shops that sold trinkets. Luckily it wasn't yet crowded as it was still early, but she still took a deep breath and all but ran down the street, dragging Snape along.

She had been asleep when he arrived that night but had seen signs of him when waking up, and he'd joined her in the tiny kitchen once she was almost done with preparing breakfast, merely nodding at her and putting the kettle on for tea. He had agreed to accompany her to Ollivanders but seemed a bit surprised over being asked. Other than that, they'd both finished their meal in silence before leaving. The purse she'd been given at Hogwarts contained a fair amount of Galleons, in addition to some Muggle pounds. It wasn't enough to live on for long, but it would last her a while until she found a job if she was clever about it. Clothes were starting to become a problem, however. She needed fresh underwear and a washing machine, Scourgify wasn't cutting it and she didn't know any clothes-washing spells. For their outing she wore her old Hogwarts cloak Transfigured into plain blue, hiding the Hogwarts crest and the Gryffindor colours, over her well-worn jeans and a jumper.

Ollivanders, at least, was exactly the same, with dusty brown being the dominating colour between the wand boxes, the wooden shelves and the furniture. The marginally less old shopkeeper looked up when the bell jangled as they entered. His eyebrows hiked up to his bushy hair and he waved the door shut after them.

"Ah, welcome, Miss Granger. And Mr Snape. How is your wand treating you? Ebony with dragon heartstring, was it?"

"Very well, thank you," Severus said, still standing stiffly near the door.

The old man smiled at her. "And you, Miss Granger. Vine wood, dragon heartstring. You lost it? I see, I see. May I have a look at that one?" He gestured at the wand she was holding, Bellatrix' future one.

"How… you…" Hermione stammered. She held out the wand to him, almost relieved to be rid of it when he accepted it.

"You know I never forget a wand," the old wandmaker said, quirking a bushy eyebrow at her. He sat down behind the desk again and put on his glasses as he brought out an odd-looking tool made of brass and crystals with several arms of various lengths. He twisted a knob to make two arms extend far enough to hold the wand between them, and two other spindly arms attached to the handle and to the middle of the wand. The crystals hovered around it. The centre crystal started spinning with a high-pitched whining sound and a colour-shifting light swept out to scan the wand.

After some time he looked up again. "I could, if you wish, tune this wand better to you. After all, you have owned it for some time so it has learnt to respond to you in some fashion."

"No!" Dread started rising in her chest. She loathed the wand and what it represented.

Ollivander looked at her, studying her over the rim of his glasses. He nodded slowly and started to extract the wand from the holder.

She bit her lip, feeling her cheeks heat up in a blush. "Sorry, I mean, I think I'd like a new wand, please."

He got up and pulled down a wand box from the shelves. She recognised it even before he gave it to her. It contained her wand, her beautiful vine wood wand, looking all fresh and shiny in its box.

"Let us try this, again."

"Will I… will she…" Hermione wasn't sure what she was trying to ask. "If I were to pick this, what would happen then?"

Ollivander shook his head slowly. "No, not this time. You coming here has changed everything. There will only be one of you out there."

She traced the swirls on the handle. It was in pristine shape, like when she'd bought it when she was eleven rather than after several years' worth of use. Reverently she picked it up. Magic hummed through her, feeling more pleasant than ever Bellatrix' wand had, but still oddly muted. A flick and an Avis produced a few canaries but they didn't feel very powerful.

Ollivander nodded, smiling gently. "Ah yes, I thought as much. This wand was right for you at eleven, but now you're changed by the things you've seen, everything that's been requested of you. Another wand will be right for you this time."

Hermione put the wand back and shook her head, trying to make sense of what he said. Was the newborn Hermione Granger no longer a witch? Or… had her coming here killed her younger self? What did he mean, exactly? Her world was shaken enough already, would she ever manage to make sense of it all? What had she done? She took a step unsteadily towards the desk, leaning on it to steady herself.

"What's going on, what do you mean? You bought this wand and lost it and now it's back?" Snape asked, interrupting her thoughts. He was standing next to Ollivander's desk, arms crossed in front of him, glowering, and she'd nearly forgotten about bringing him there.

"Shall I?" Ollivander asked her.

She nodded. "Please."

He pulled down a few boxes from the shelves and let her try them out while he turned to face Snape. The first wand she pulled out felt sullen and stiff in her hand, and she didn't even try to flick it. A few more were discarded as soon as she opened the boxes.

"Miss Granger bought this wand off me the summer she was eleven, before going to Hogwarts. In 1991, I believe? However, at this point in time her experiences have changed her so much so that she needs a new wand." He turned towards Hermione who nodded in confirmation.

"What?! 1991? That's not possible!"

"I was born in 1979, in September. Would you care to guess the date?" Hermione asked, looking back up at him.

He was standing with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, not yet using the impassive, blank expression he'd worn like a mask as a teacher.

"Time travel isn't possible!" Snape protested.

"Tell that to Hogwarts," Hermione muttered, suddenly too weary to argue. "The Castle flung me all the way back here. Through the sodding window."

Snape glowered at her, looking as if he was about to protest.

"It is true, what she says," Ollivander interjected mildly. "That sort of time travel leaves a trace, if you will, which can be read by those that are open to it. It has only ever been done as a desperate last resort but to my knowledge it has happened at least twice before."

The next wand felt alright but there was no real spark when she tried to flick it.

"Would you please tell him about the other wand I have? If you know about it?" The next wand she tried quivered in her hand as if it wanted to get away from her, and she put it back carefully in the box.

Ollivander smiled absently and pulled down a few more boxes. "Certainly. That wand was owned by Bellatrix Black Lestrange who stole it from me some time after she'd escaped from Azkaban, I think. It has certainly performed many Dark acts. I have yet to create it, and as of now I don't think I will."

"How do you know all that?" Snape asked, the sullen tone from before morphing into curiosity.

The old man shrugged. "I make, will make, have made, all these wands. After some time, it's all the same."

Ollivander rose and went to the back of the store. They could hear him rummaging through cupboards and drawers, muttering to himself, before he came out again, slightly dustier than before and carrying three wands. He laid them out on the table in front of Hermione and stepped back without saying anything. One wand appeared to be walnut, with a chiselled geometric pattern. The next was a warm fine-grained wood, while the third was a carved from a light wood with coarse grain, maybe pine.

The middle wand called to her. It didn't have a defined handle but had a tapered, rounded knob at the end, and the wand seemed to swirl around itself in a lazy, slightly irregular spiral. The wood was quite flexible rather than stiff and unyielding.

"What is this?" Hermione asked quietly. She picked it up and flicked it experimentally. A flock of birds burst from the wand tip, hummingbirds in all kinds of shapes and colours.

Ollivander nodded at her. "Ah yes, my dear. I thought so. Acacia with Unicorn and Thestral hair twined together, 11 ½ inches long. It was returned after the last owner died and has merely been here for safekeeping until its next wielder would show up."

"Thestral hair…? Just who was the former owner?" She'd never heard of that used in an Ollivander wand.

"Ah, someone I believe you have heard of. Heliotrope Wilkins, who in turn inherited it from someone else, centuries earlier."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was all connected, then, somehow. Still, hearing Ollivander's validation of her journey and her current status made her feel slightly better with herself, and the wand in her hand completed the picture. It felt powerful, yet warm and solid, as if anything was possible now that she wielded the right wand. "Thank you. What do I owe you for the wand?"

The old man smiled and shook his head. "Nothing, dear. I merely watched it for you, for a while."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione felt much better with a wand that responded to her, instead of struggling with Bellatrix' wand which had seemed to fight her at every turn. Her new wand hummed quietly with resonant magic as she held it, and she was reluctant to stow it up her sleeve.

They walked slowly along Diagon Alley, headed for Flourish and Blotts. The bustling crowd unsettled her, after all she'd just come from nearly a year on the run, hunted and in hiding. Without meaning to she found herself leaning towards him as they walked, drawing some comfort from his presence. Luckily the book store was the same as ever. Snape, too, seemed to to relax a bit among the dusty stacks. She found a couple of books on Occlumency and a tome on Predictive Arithmancy that looked very interesting, while he had his nose stuck in a book on Persian curses which he reluctantly put back when they were ready to leave. They exited the store, blinking against the sharp autumn sunshine, and continued down the street. She took the opportunity to detour down to the market stalls down a side street to buy some more pumpkin juice and a jug of milk, before they returned to the main street.

"Snivellus! Hey, Snivellus!"

Hermione froze. The voice… it was Harry's, but wrong. And then she looked over at Snape who had gone rigid as a statue, snarling at the young man who looked so much like Harry, but wrong somehow, in fancy robes and with a cruel expression rather than Harry's perpetual bemused smile.

Shit. This wasn't good. James Potter, of all people.

The wizard leaned closer, smiling widely, yet it didn't reach his eyes. "So sorry we didn't invite you to the wedding, Snivellus. Lily Potter didn't want you there, you see."

Hermione laughed a little too loudly and stepped closer to Snape. "Oh, Severus, do you know this… gentleman? He's a bit unpolished, isn't he? Come, let's go." She nestled her hand into the crook of his elbow and kissed his cheek, hardly believing her own daring. Her heart was running a mile a minute. "Bye, whatever your name is."

With a lazy wave she steered Snape away from Potter senior, but not before flicking her fresh new wand at the wizard, half hidden by her sleeve. She kept a steady grip on Snape's arm until they rounded the corner and the risk of a hex from behind went down.

Hermione snuck a glance at the wizard by her side. He was stiff, staring straight ahead, anger radiating off him almost visibly. She could only guess at what he felt. Anger, obviously, but there was probably more to it. Embarrassment, she guessed, over having a witness to the altercation, and maybe even that misguided hurt male pride over being rescued by a mere girl. She dragged him over to Mulpepper's Apothecary nearby, and didn't release his arm until she felt him starting to breathe again.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Hermione needed clothes, desperately. After the Apothecary she managed to convince him to at least accompany her to Twilfit and Tattings, and so they were once again headed up Diagon Alley. He had relaxed a bit in the Apothecary, surrounded by jars and boxes of Potions ingredients.

There, around the corner came two witches in expensive-looking robes, one blonde and one with dark curly hair, and a blond well-groomed wizard. They were not walking directly towards Hermione, luckily, as she had frozen on the spot, completely unable to move. They looked young, happy and carefree. How could they be, when only a month ago she'd been tortured by one of them on the floor of their drawing room? She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, her field of vision was shrinking, everything hurt.

Before she knew what had happened, he pulled her into his shoulder and whirled them around to disappear with a crack.

"Breathe," he told her gruffly when they appeared on the doorstep to Spinner's End again. "In, hold it, out slowly. OK?" He quickly opened the door and pulled her inside, not letting go of her arm.

Slowly the panic receded and she could breathe again. He settled her on a kitchen chair while bringing out some plates and the hamper again. They'd finished most of the prepared meals but still had a large ham and some bread kept in stasis, so he quickly put together some ham and mustard sandwiches.

"What was up with that?"

In response she thrust her arm out and pulled the sleeve back. Some of the letters were scabbing over again. It seemed they didn't really want to heal, the blade must have been cursed.

"Bellatrix did this, in the drawing room in Malfoy Manor. The Malfoys were watching. Mr Malfoy wanted confirmation that my friend was… who he was, so that he could call Vold… You-Know-Who over to kill him. Draco… their son, he was in my year at Hogwarts, he actually lied when we were brought in and said we weren't, well, us, but his father was totally focused on turning us in. My friends were thrown into the dungeons but Bellatrix thought we had stolen something from her vault and if we hadn't been rescued I'm sure I'd have…" She broke off and took a deep breath before drinking some juice.

He had stilled when listening but didn't otherwise comment. She was beginning to feel better, her pulse had stabilised and she could breathe again.

"So the Malfoys had a son? I guess you mean Lucius and Narcissa?"

She bit into the sandwich, finally realising how hungry she was. "Yes. Draco Malfoy. Not sure when his birthday was? I think in the summer, June maybe? We weren't exactly friends."

He hummed noncommittally, tracing his lower lip with a long finger.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Snape spent the rest of the evening in what was obviously his preferred armchair, reading a book on something Hermione didn't catch, and quite demonstrably ignoring her. Not that there were many options in the sitting room, with a small lumpy couch, a low table and the aforementioned armchair taking up most of the floor space in front of the fireplace. Hermione dug out one of the Occlumency books she'd bought, one called Guide to Advanced Occlumency by Maxwell Barnett, and settled in on the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot between the lumps. She'd started trying to meditate already in their fifth year when Harry had mentioned his lessons, but had never needed to test her skills against a Legilimency probe. The book mentioned different shielding techniques, such as building a Mind Castle or other structure to organise and shield memories, or using elemental aspects to keep the memories safe.

After some time she dug out a notebook from her bag and started taking notes. It seemed a bit impractical to build a huge memory structure if the goal was primarily to keep memories safe rather than keeping them organised, as if an invader made it past the barriers they would have access to everything, neatly labelled too. Still, the idea to organise all her memories like a library did hold a certain attraction.

Her thoughts kept straying to her host, too. He was twitchy and seemed to be all edges, with long black hair to hide behind, but he'd been surprisingly accepting of having her there in his house, even if he grumbled. She hoped she hadn't put him in trouble, appearing all of a sudden like that and then letting him hear the truth from Ollivander. Not that she'd been able to choose where to land, she thought somewhat grumpily. He only had himself to blame for that, after all.

The silence was broken by an unexpected question from her host who was now standing next to the doorway. "Why did you kiss me earlier?"

It took her a moment to work out what he was asking. "What? I didn't? Oh… you mean when James…"

He glowered at her, arms crossed. "Yes, were you trying to lead me on or something?"

"No! I didn't mean anything with it, I just wanted him to go away!" She felt a blush rising on her cheeks.

He looked at her, smirking, his eyes locked on her chest. "Maybe you should show your appreciation of the fact that I rescued you, that I haven't turned you in to the Dark Lord and have let you stay at my house! I even Obliviated Yaxley for your sake, don't you think that's worth something?"

Hermione's heart sank even as her anger surged. For some reason she had thought that he would be different from the hormonal boys she'd encountered at Hogwarts, or Greyback at the Manor. "Piss off, Snape! And don't try to sneak up on me tonight either!"

He took a step back. "I'm no rapist!" He'd crossed his arms in front of him, two high spots of colour on his cheeks.

She sighed. "I didn't think you were. I'm going to bed."

She packed up her things and trudged up the stairs without a second look at him.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Severus

He felt even lousier than usual after she left the room. I'm not a rapist, he'd said, but that wasn't exactly true, was it? Of course she wouldn't want to, not with him, no matter what, even if she'd kissed him on the cheek earlier that day. Yet he'd tried to make her sleep with him, using her sense of misplaced guilt over his decision to save her to get her to comply.

There had been… two girls, plus that night of his initiation which he'd tried too hard to forget. One at Hogwarts in his seventh year. A Hufflepuff, and not one of the popular ones, obviously. It had been messy and rather quick, and as it turned out afterwards she'd done it to make him supply her with potions for the upcoming exams, which had ended with her in tears even as he was pulling up his trousers, naturally.

The second had been last spring, after another Death Eater duel tournament. The last fight had been hard. He'd been up against Bellatrix Black Lestrange who was always so hard to read, quick on the draw and viciously creative with her hexes. Still, he'd won after a ten minute fight that quickly had moved from the duelling platform to encompassing the whole room. Afterwards, when he'd shed his robes and shirt and was dunking his head in one of the Malfoys' garden fountains to cool down, he was approached by one of the bystanders, a Pure-blood witch from one of the lesser families affiliated with the Dark Lord who didn't wear the Mark. She'd walked up to him, kissed him, and then proceeded to jump his bones right then and there, on the grass behind the hedges. He thought he'd done reasonably well, he had at least had a great time and by the sounds she made he thought she'd come at least twice, but the next time he saw her at another of those meetings she had attached herself to Rookwood instead and was rather blatantly ignoring Severus.

Bellatrix had hated him even more ever since that duel, of course.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

A shriek shattered the stillness and he was out of bed, wand in hand, before he understood what he'd heard. Quickly he made his way to his old bedroom and opened the door, casting a Lumos to see what was going on. She was clearly in the midst of a nightmare, tangled up in the bedsheets in a way that didn't look very comfortable.

"No! Please, no! I don't have it!"

He took a step into the room. "Hey, wake up."

Not until he, reluctantly, shook her shoulder did she wake up, at first gasping and clutching at his hand, tears streaming down her face. He felt terribly awkward when he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her, and even more so when she flung her arms around his neck. Her scent washed over him, her jasmine shampoo mingled with a faint hint of sweat after her nightmare, almost making him dizzy. He patted her awkwardly on her back, still not quite believing she was voluntarily hugging him.

"I was back at the Manor again," she mumbled against his neck. "Bellatrix was there with her knife and Greyback was just about to… to… he wanted… he…" She started sobbing again.

Oh shit. Did she just say what he thought she had? He knew of Fenrir Greyback's reputation and was glad he hadn't needed to interact with the bastard. He took a deep breath. "Force himself on you? Did he, erm, that is, did he do it?"

She shook her head, still not letting him go, but relaxing slightly against him. It felt nice, somehow, her touch and proximity.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling completely rotten. "I really shouldn't have, earlier."

"Nah, 's OK," she mumbled. "I trust you. You wouldn't."

That statement made him freeze, his mind not able to wrap itself around the concept. How? "Why do you trust me? I'm a Death Eater, Hermione. You don't know a tenth of what I've done already."

She shook her head and pulled her head back slightly to better look at him. Her eyes were puffy from crying. "I do trust you, Severus Snape. You may have done bad things but you're not evil. I know you're not. I've always trusted you. Well, maybe not in my first year when Harry and Ron made me set your robes on fire, but ever since then. It took me a while to learn that with you it's necessary to consider your actions, not your words. You saved me and my friends from a werewolf in my third year."

He freed himself from her grasp and settled a bit further away from her now that she was lucid, although she wasn't making much sense. It was so hard to reconcile his potential future past with his current life. "Lupin? Damn it, did he bite someone? And what do you mean, set my robes on fire?"

Lupin and Black and Potter and their little side-kick Pettigrew, the banes of his time at Hogwarts. Lupin had never been quite as bad as the two others, but in some ways he had been worse. A Prefect, someone who should be upholding some goddamn order at the school, and he never interfered in his friends' bullying, never tried to stop them, always looked the other way.

"Yes, Lupin, but we all made it. You'd been brewing him Wolfsbane for a full school year but for some reason he forgot to take a dose. He was our teacher for a year, DADA. And I thought you were cursing my friend but you were actually saying the counter-curse. Look, I'd tell you everything, but not until I know you can keep your mind safe. Do you know Occlumency?"

He shook his head. "Not yet but Reg said he'd teach me."

"Reg…?"

"Regulus Black."

She seemed to freeze, mouth gaping open in a rather unflattering way. "Oh. I…"

"Did you know him?" Severus asked, but she shook her head absently, staring at the wall.

She bit her lip before exhaling heavily. "Once you've learnt Occlumency, I can tell you. In my time you were a master at it."

"This is so confusing," he said and yawned again. It was late, or possibly early already.

She snorted. "Tell me about it."

They sat in silence for a while. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance.

"I still can't believe I became a teacher in your timeline. I hate kids, I did even when I was one."

She nodded and looked away, and even with just the wand light he could see her slightly awkward smile, there was clearly more to it that she didn't want to say.

Another thought nagged him again. "What did you do to him? In the Alley?" He was certain she had cast something, there in Diagon Alley.

She looked confused for a moment before catching on. "You mean James Potter?"

When he nodded it seemed like she was starting to blush although it was a bit hard to see in the pale light from his wand which he'd put on the bedside table.

"A slow-release Engorgio on his, erm, parts, he won't be able to sit down for at least a week. A friend of mine, she had lots of brothers, they taught her that trick. She told me about it."

He snorted. That was just what the bloody wanker deserved. Cheered by the thought he rose to leave, she appeared to have calmed down. "You okay?"

"Yes. Thank you. G'night, Severus."

"Night."

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Sunday

The next morning he woke before her, and put on a kettle for tea. The night had been chilly, it wouldn't be long before they had frost on the insides of the windows again, the uninsulated house doing its best to let all heat out overnight. He was sick of it, the poverty, the humiliation of not having enough, wearing hand-me-downs, never quite fitting in. He'd thought that would change in the magical world, but if anything his social status or lack thereof had been even more apparent at Hogwarts, and not until he joined the Death Eaters and got the opportunity to start the Potions Apprenticeship did he feel as if he actually belonged there.

She yawned as she came down the stairs and put a sealed scroll by his plate. He'd sliced some more bread and was about to toast it over the stove's gas burners, while she took a look at the table and quietly started to whisk eggs for a scramble. Oddly enough it was actually rather nice to work together with someone in the kitchen, without having to tell them exactly what to do. She finished the scramble just as he was done with the toasts, and they settled in to eat.

Once they had finished eating he took a look at the scroll. It was thicker than it seemed, with two scruffy Muggle-style paper notebooks rolled up inside. One notebook contained detailed notes on Potions experiments, ingredients and ideas, and although he just skimmed a few pages he recognised a few of the ideas as thoughts he'd already had and wanted to pursue further, and the other appeared to be a guide to Occlumency. He unfurled the scroll. The handwriting was familiar, a more practised, more impatient version of his own spiky scrawl.

Severus Snape

If you read this I presume you have heard some of the story from your unexpected house guest. As odd as it sounds, it is true. It is currently April in the year 1998 when I write this letter to myself, knowing that I — the one I am today — will never read it, since if you do end up reading it, your path will inevitably be different from what mine was.

You will ask yourself if this is really true or if that girl is playing a prank on you. Hopefully you will have some other validation, but let us just say that I know what you did to Tobias that day in the alley behind the Dirty Goose, and what happened to your mother. I know about Benny and Frank in primary school, and I know about your bear Mr Scruffy in the wardrobe upstairs which you still bring out sometimes, such as the night after your initiation.

Lily? She will never return to you. She is currently pregnant (or will be very soon) with a brat I had the displeasure of trying to keep alive at Hogwarts. His name will be Harry and he will look just like his father but with her eyes, Lily's eyes in Potter's face.

From the outside you will probably think my life is good. I am currently Headmaster of Hogwarts, gained my Potions mastery a year ahead of schedule (I know you are thinking of adding Syrup of Hellebore to the mood-lifting potion — don't do it, use an infusion of Scurvy Grass instead and add St John's Wort oil rather than the plant directly, see my attached notes), and found employment soon thereafter. However, I have spent all those years in between where you are now and where I am currently atoning for my mistakes. The ones you have made already, and some that are yet to come. If you continue down this path you will be directly responsible for Lily's death, and the one you currently call Master will let you down, saying he would protect her but instead killing her.

Miss Granger is a highly intelligent witch with a strong sense of loyalty. If you manage to somehow gain her trust she will not betray you. She might whack you upside the head when you are being stupid but she won't betray you. Try to not be too pigheaded around her, and help her when you can.

How is this possible? I haven't a clue, the portraits at Hogwarts did the Arithmancy calculations to make this happen. Quantum, they say, as if that explains anything.

Take another path. Don't become me. It has been fifteen years of misery, but now you have a chance for a better life. Look after her, keep her safe. Learn Occlumency, and fast. I have attached some notes here on the approach I ended up using, which naturally will work for you too, since I'm you. I have also attached some notes from fifteen years of Potions research. Use them as you see fit.

Severus Snape, Master of Potions

Headmaster

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Yet another confirmation to this completely absurd situation. It hurt, the bleak despair shining through the words from a future that might be his, and the comments about Lily. Green-eyed, vibrant Lily who would never be his. Beautiful Lily who still resided in his fantasies and dreams, who gave meaning to his life even now. Meeting Potter earlier had not helped matters much either.

Too much. It was way too much, too strange. He needed air. Grabbing the papers he stumbled up out, out of the kitchen, the house, barely remembering to bring his cloak and wand before he slammed the door shut and Apparated away.

~oo~oo~oo~oo~

Grimmauld Place was still and silent when he appeared at the Apparition point the Black family had set up a long time ago, behind a hedge and a large oak. He quickly made his way over to Number 12 and flung a small stone at a window, aimed with magic.

"Reg!"

The window opened and the head of the youngest Black appeared. When he spotted Severus he quickly nodded and moved inside again, while Severus waited by the hedge across the street. Soon the door opened and Regulus appeared, slightly dishevelled, his brown hair almost as messy as Potter's used to be and his clothes rumpled.

"Can you get away?" Severus asked.

Regulus looked inside the building, but when no one came out to protest he merely nodded, fetched his cloak and stepped outside.

They ended up at the Wicked Witch again, in a private room with just a table and some chairs, and a full English breakfast for Regulus. Severus settled for another toast and some bacon since he'd eaten already.

"Ready?" Regulus asked, his wand out, once he'd finished eating.

Severus frowned. "Err… what should I do?"

"Kind of try to relax and focus at the same time, shut away everything you don't want me to see."

That didn't make much sense, how could he deliberately not think about something? He nodded anyway.

"Legilimens!"

All of a sudden there was an intense pressure in Severus' head. Memories and images started flashing through his mind. His Apprenticeship, Death Eaters, Hogwarts, classes, Lily, the Marauders.

Suddenly Tobias was there, towering over him with a drunken leer, belt already in hand.

"No!" Severus shouted and pushed. The spell connection broke, and Regulus tumbled backwards, nearly hitting his head on the wall when his chair fell.

"Again," Severus said grimly after he'd helped Regulus up off the floor.

"Ow, that hurt." Regulus winced and rubbed his arse. "What did you do? Can you replicate it?"

"I think so," Severus said slowly.

They practised for several hours until Severus could barely stand from the splitting headache. At the end of the session he'd managed to consistently shut Reg out, however, and he'd tested Legilimency on Reg several times too to see what it was like from the other end. He found it difficult to enter, as if trying to poke through a black wall with a spoon, but after putting more magical force behind it he soon found a crack and managed to wriggle through. Once inside he was assaulted by emotions and snippets of memories. Hogwarts, classes, some Death Eater meetings. He saw Orion Black berating both Regulus and Sirius over something, their mother hovering behind her husband, wringing her hands. That memory lead to another, with a younger Regulus crying in his room while his mother shouted at Sirius. Before he could get any further, however, Reg managed to push him out of his mind with so much force so that Severus fell off his chair as well.

That night, as he returned to Master Pyrites and started preparing for the upcoming week, his thoughts kept returning to the two of them. Reg, whose upbringing may have been more similar to his own than he'd ever imagined, although with more money, and the odd witch, who trusted him even though she knew way too much of his past.

*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*x*

A/N: in canon it seems Hermione thinks that Bellatrix' wand is the one that she used when she tortured the Longbottoms. I find that unlikely, as when Bellatrix was captured by Aurors and imprisoned she must have lost access to that wand, and I think she obtained a new wand after she was freed from Azkaban.