Author's Notes Disclaimer: All characters in the Harry Potter universe, as well as other references to it, do not belong to the author of this fanfic, which is written without any profit interest. All rights reserved to J.K. Rowling.
Translated by Jessinthedungeons.
Chapter 1 - Press Conference
All magic was gone as soon as Voldemort died. That's it. The moment Harry Potter won his duel against the Dark Lord, magic vanished off the face of the earth.
Some people say it was a curse. Others claim that this happened to fulfill an ancient prophecy. There are also those who said it was a punishment sent by the gods — whoever they were — who had bestowed the gift of magic on humans and then were disgusted by the way those gifts were being used. I don't know which one of these theories I believe in. What I do know is that today, we — witches and wizards — live in a new world.
In this new world, the magic of people who had both magical parents, whether they were pure-blood or half-blood, was completely extinguished. If the wizard or witch had a Muggle parent, the magic was partially drained, and today was only half of the total magic potential that this person had once possessed. And then there is the category I fell into: The Muggle-borns.
We, who were despised by entire generations of pure-blood wizards and slaughtered in the pure-blood supremacist wars, were the only wizards today who didn't have their magical abilities altered. In fact, we could say that our magic was even strengthened. And that's a hell of an irony.
Who could have imagined that today, four years after that day when everything changed, we — the muggle-borns — were the most powerful wizards and witches in the world?
Another characteristic of this new world is that no children born after the Battle of Hogwarts showed signs of magic. No more magical children were born. The bewitched quill that recorded the births of magical children in witchcraft schools around the world was intact since May the second, of the year 1998. Some scholars said that magic would be reborn after a while. But in the meantime, we were considered the last — or the first, depending on how the magic would behave — generation of fully-empowered wizards and witches.
A blink. Then I blinked a few more times.
— What did you say?
The woman seated across the table repeated herself. Yet, I looked at her. I heard it correctly the first time. She made herself crystal clear. No problem. But my brain couldn't wrap itself around the sentence that came out of her mouth. I understood all the individual words in the sentence, but putting them together at that moment was the equivalent of telling a blind man to see something fast. Basically, that wasn't going to happen.
— I need you, Hermione.
My former Head of House, now my mentor in the Wizarding World, Minerva McGonagall, the woman who was asking the impossible of me, insisted. She sat back against the chair in her office and fixed her silver hair, her wrinkled face was still stern, and today she was wearing a thick dark green robe. Despite being one of the witches who had lost half of her powers, she was still intimidating. Insane and out-of-her-damn mind, but intimidating nonetheless.
Calm down, take a deep breath and take it all in, Hermione. Focus.
I needed to focus on something else to relax. I watched the walls of the office. A row of diplomas hanging to her right. On both sides there were photos, now all static, of friends and family and some even of our group of students at Hogwarts over the years. My favorite one was taken last year when we had an updated version of the Triwizard Tournament. She was in the middle of the group with the tournament trophy, and I was by her side with my arm around Jess's shoulders, a teammate of mine. I had the same photo in my apartment, a constant reminder of my twelve years of existence in the Wizarding World.
— Hermione. — Minerva said my name again. — You've never let me down before. Go there.
She asked me kindly, which gave the impression that she was giving me a choice. But she wasn't. Just thinking about what she wanted me to do made my heart race. My nervous system had slowed down the minute she said the words 'you' and 'interview' in the same sentence, just a minute ago. So, when she said the word 'today,' my brain wished me good luck and shut down. I don't know what to do but stare blankly at her. A press conference with me. Today. I'd rather have my organs ripped out.
I didn't think much about Minerva calling me the night before. I didn't think twice when she asked me to come to her office, because there was something she wanted to talk about in person. I should have reported a case of food poisoning to get away with that, but it is obviously too late now. I had fallen into her trap, physically and emotionally.
The Wizarding World had to adapt to many muggle technologies, as more than half of its population, now without their powers, were practically ordinary humans. This meant that at a press conference there would be cameras. Lots of cameras.
Oh God, I was going to throw up thinking about it. My first thought was: No. Please, do not. Some people were afraid of the dark, spiders, snakes… I never laughed at someone when they were afraid of things. But this horrible fear I had of speaking in front of a camera with a group of people watching me, got me called a coward at least a hundred times, mostly by my best friends.
— Are you going to tell me you cannot do this? — Minerva glared at me from the top of her glasses, reinforcing the fact that she wasn't giving me a choice, and also threatening me with words she knew I couldn't back down.
I was in her office at ten in the morning because she wanted me, no one else. If I were a weaker person, my bottom lip would start to tremble. I myself could have blinked and batted my eyes to keep from crying because we were well aware of the fact that I couldn't say no to her. Even if it could kill me, I would do what she wanted.
She was counting on it, too. Because I was the idiot who wouldn't back down from a provocation. A broken leg, after someone told me I couldn't climb a massive tree when I was 10 years old should have taught me to retreat once and for all. It was the right thing for my own good, but no.
— I'll do it. — I frowned, looking like I had an enema in. — But… professor, why isn't Justin doing this? Or Dean? They usually do all the interviews and stuff.
Because I avoided being in front of a camera as much as possible, as it was hell.
— I didn't ask Justin because I think it is a good idea for you to do so. — she explained, referring to one of the other veterans on the team, Justin Finch-Fletchley. — And Mr. Thomas won't be back until Sunday.
I blinked a few more times at her, on the verge of throwing up. My leg had already started to shake, and I held on to it, trying to get it to stop. Minerva smiled tenderly, leaning across her desk, hands clasped.
— You did not ask me what the press conference is about.
How could I? It could even be because someone has finally found a formula to bring magic back that I wouldn't care about. My heart started to beat faster at the mention of the press conference, but I forced myself to look like I wasn't avoiding a panic attack.
— Okay, what is this about? — I asked, slowly.
Our classes are back in a week and a half, so I guess I would subconsciously assume that was the theme of the press conference. But the question had barely left my mouth when Minerva began to smile, her green eyes widening. She leaned over the table and said something that was just as bad, if not worse, than asking me to do a press conference. Nineteen words I wasn't prepared to hear. Nineteen words that I had no idea were about to change my life.
— I had the confirmation that Severus will assume the position of assistant supervisor of the team from now on. — Minerva explained, her tone implying that this 'is the best thing that ever happened.'
My facial expression answered for me. It took a full minute for the smile to fade from the headmistress' face and a confused look to take over, but it did. She peeked at me.
— Why are you making that expression?
I was eleven years old the first time I saw Severus Snape at Hogwarts. I remember the exact moment his gaze met mine. I remember everything I went through under his supervision as my professor during all my years of studies. And clear as the day, I can visualize in my head the moment he was severely attacked by Nagini at the Shrieking Shack.
I remember every detail of the memories he gave to Harry from that night. He was a hero. He had done what no one believed he would. He had been Dumbledore's man to the end. Watching his memories was one of those moments that lifts a person's spirits. Because everything he went through was dangerous but absolutely inspiring. And I was under the impression that I could do anything. Because he did. I know I spent hours crying because of him after watching those memories. And mostly, I thought that Severus Snape, who had been called traitor and coward countless times, was the most amazing wizard in the world. Because he did what no one believed he could: he survived.
And now, as an adult, I can look back and understand why he had that effect on me. It makes complete sense. People still talk about him when they remember the Battle of Hogwarts.
When was the moment when I felt like I would admire him forever? That moment. It is true that I already admired him, but my judgment was tainted by the death of Headmaster Dumbledore in my sixth year. But watching those memories changed everything. It was the moment I assumed to myself that I wanted to be like that wizard, a hero.
And when I found myself being one of the few witches who continued with full magic, I dedicated my life, my time, and my magic to be the best, because of the wizard I grew up admiring. Along the twenty years since the first war against Voldemort, he had become the greatest, and most hated, wizard at Hogwarts. I myself have judged him wrong. I set his robes on fire, robbed from his private storage of ingredients. But I also defended him when my friends judged him. I cried because of the insults he said to me. And I cried FOR him too. Damn, I have even dreamed of marrying him. Minerva knew none of this, of course.
I sat straight in the chair opposite to my mentor, with whom I had been working for the past four years, and shrugged. Why was I like this? Like I wasn't excited at all?
— Minerva, do you remember all the animosity between him and the golden trio, right?
At this point, I guess, I was hoping she wouldn't remember, because she had been too excited to tell me about Severus Snape being hired. But she nodded and shrugged also, her face still a canvas of confusion.
— Of course I remember. That is why you are the perfect person to be a part of this interview, Hermione. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley no longer have magical powers, which makes you the only one remaining of the trio who have magic. In addition, of course, to being the most well-known and beloved member of the class.
— Professor Snape insulted us…
— I know what he did, but no one wants this training to be a soap opera. And you going in front of the cameras, smiling, is exactly what Hogwarts needs. This is not a big deal, and everyone needs to be on board, so the focus is on the school and not on a drama from years ago. It will be ten, maybe twenty minutes. You, me and him. You will answer some questions and that's it. I will not put you through this again, I promise.
My initial thought was simple: this was Harry's fault, it's all his fault.
I wanted to bang my head against the table separating me from Minerva, but I couldn't. Instead, the fear turned to a tremor in my belly. It gave me cramps and I had to press a hand over it, so it would help ease my suffering. Then, I sighed again and accepted the reality behind Minerva's words.
Hogwarts was reduced to a minimum of magic, and I was one of the main pieces of it. And maybe meeting Snape right before a press conference was just what I needed.
— I understood. — I groaned and dropped my head back to look at the ceiling. — I'll do it.
— That's my girl!
As soon as I won one fight, I fought another, so I wouldn't call her a sadist for forcing me to do something which would almost make me break all my barriers.
— I cannot promise that I won't stutter during the interview or throw up in the front row, but I will do my best.
Then I was going to punch Harry the first chance I got.
You can do this, Hermione. You can!
When I was younger, and Harry and Ron asked me to do something I didn't want to do, which I always did, if it was something I was horrified about, something that would kick us out of school, they appealed to my sense of justice. So even if I argued as I went with them, I would do it, even though I didn't want to.
'I can and will do right' has been the motto I held closest to my heart all the time. I don't like people telling me I couldn't do something, even if I didn't want to. This was how Minerva made me say I would do the interview. I could do it. I could be in the same room as Severus Snape. Even if the first time would be in front of several reporters. No problem.
Inside, I curled into a ball like a dead spider and asked, 'please, may I dissolve into dust now?' This terror, this phobia, was so absurd. Nobody says that, fear has no logic. It's stupid and irrational.
— Ready? — Minerva asked as we waited for the press conference to begin.
The journalists and reporters talking so loudly in the other room were making me sick.
I was the witch in our team who was most wanted for these advertisements and events for a reason. I was the only one left of the trio with magic. But I hated interviews. My hands felt like I rubbed my back after a long run, my armpits were sweating... and my leg was shaking. Both legs were shaking. But instead of admitting that I was nervous, I stuck my hands in my pockets, thanked Merlin that the pants I wore that morning were baggy enough that no one could tell my legs had a mind of their own, and forced a smile onto my face.
— Ready. — I lied through my closed teeth.
Luckily, she knew me well enough to acknowledge the fact that I wasn't prepared, because Minerva laughed. A hand came over my shoulder, and she gave me a shake.
— You are a terrible liar, dear. But everything is going to be okay. I will be with you all the time.
I frowned for a second before trying to disappear once and for all. I couldn't do it. I coughed dryly and told myself: I can do this. I really can. My leg only shook harder as someone came with a microphone in the other room.
— We need a minute, please — Oh God! — I think I just threw up in my mouth a bit. — I muttered more to myself than to Minerva.
— Everything will be fine. — She assured me with a sympathetic smile.
I cleared my throat and nodded at her, begging myself to calm down. I inhaled and exhaled a few times before taking a deep breath and holding it in, like I always do when I'm really excited before an exam. Yes, it didn't help. My belly swelled with nausea and I had to swallow my bile back.
— Where is he, after all? — I asked.
Minerva really looked around, as if the question surprised her.
— I have no idea. Did they put him in a different room?
We got the answer a second later, when Mr. Filch walked into the room, the corner of his mouth twisted down.
— We have a problem.
— Mione, no.
— Yes.
— Hermione, I'm not kidding. Not even a little. Please. Please say you're kidding.
I lean my head back against the headboard and close my eyes, giving myself a weird smile of defeat. All was lost. This afternoon had been real, and there was no escape. So I told Dean the truth.
— Yes, it happened.
He groaned.
Dean and I are real friends, the kind of friend who feels the worst of their pain for you, suffering along with you; he let out a groan that I could feel from a thousand miles away. My humiliation was his humiliation. Dean Thomas and I became best friends from the moment all magic disappeared, and we found ourselves as the most powerful muggle-borns at Hogwarts, four years ago.
— No. — He groaned again. — No!
I sighed and revived the twenty minutes in front of the cameras that afternoon. I wanted to die. I wouldn't go as far as to say it was the worst thing that ever happened to me, after all I've been in a war, but it was definitely one of those few moments that I wish I could go back and redo it differently. Or at least have the courage to erase my own mind and pretend it never happened.
— I'm going to dye my hair, change my name and go live in Brazil. — I said, feeling depressed.
What did he do? He laughed. He laughed, then puffed, and then laughed some more. The fact that he didn't try to tell me it was okay meant I wasn't exaggerating the events that had transpired hours earlier.
— What are the chances that no one has seen the whole thing?
Dean made a noise that gave me the impression that he was actually putting some thought behind the question.
— I think you're out of luck. I'm sorry.
My head lolled and my chest heaved in pain.
— On a scale of one to ten, how bad was it?
There was no answer there. A loud laugh let me know that Dean was enjoying himself. He was laughing, like he had each time I did something incredibly embarrassing. Like when I skidded on the wet floor and crashed to the ground, and he asked me if I had unlearned the first spell we learned at Hogwarts: Wingardium Leviosa. I shouldn't expect anything different from him.
— Mione, did you really…?
— Yeah.
— In front of everyone?
I grumbled. I could barely think about it without picturing myself grabbing my stash of cookies and trying to find a cave and hibernate forever. Minerva said that I was exaggerating, that all that was over and life would go on, 'in ten years no one will remember' but... I will. I will remember. And Dean, Dean will remember too, especially if he has already found the footage. And he will, I know he will.
— Can you stop laughing?
He laughed even harder.
— One day!
— I'm going to hang up now, you idiot.
There was an even louder laugh, followed by another, and then an even more piercing laugh.
— Give… me… a… minute — He groaned.
— You know, I called you because you're the nicest person I know. I thought, 'who won't make fun of me? Dean, Dean won't'. But there you are! Thank you!
He gasped, and then laughed even harder. There was no doubt in my mind that he was reviving the events of my day in his head, and he finally appreciated the humor in them, the kind of humor someone can have when they were not the ones who had embarrassed themselves in front of the media. I pulled the phone out of my face and kept my finger on the red button, I imagined myself hanging up.
— Okay, okay. I'm fine now. — He did those weird breathing exercises to calm himself down before finally continuing. — Okay, okay. — A strange wheezing noise came from his nose, but it only lasted a split second. — OK. So, he didn't show up? Did they say why?
Snape. The entire afternoon had been his fault. Okay, that was a lie. It had been my fault.
— No. They just said he had some problems with the international portkey or something. And so they convinced Minerva, and held the conference with just the two of us.
I held back my imaginary sob.
— That sounds very weird. — Dean observed, almost sounding normal. Almost. I could see him pinching his nose and holding the phone away from his face, stifling his own laughter. Moron.
— I bet he went to get drunk.
— Or he was looking at old images and criticizing himself.
— Or he is counting his ingredient stock.
— He was probably sitting in a bathtub, reading about himself.
— That was a good one! — I laughed, only stopping when the phone clicked twice. A long digit number with a different area code appeared through the display, and it only took me a second to realize who was calling. — Hey, I need to let you go, but I'll see you at the castle on Monday; My favorite hero is calling.
Dean laughed.
— Okay, tell him I said hi.
— I will.
— Bye, Hermione.
— See you. Be careful on the way back. — I said, right before clicking to answer the incoming call. I didn't get a chance to say a word before the male voice on the other line rang out.
— Hermione. — He was serious. It was the way he said it, but he choked instead of enunciating, instead of his usual 'Mione!'. — Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?
I couldn't help but laugh. The first thing I said to him was: — No. You are just crazy.
He was crazy, and nowadays even more so. Harry Potter nowadays was an avowed fan of Severus Snape. He would mention Snape more often than someone with two kids, and who was the wizard that killed the Dark Lord, should.
— I was sitting here eating when Ron ran into the house and told me to turn on the TV, and tune in to the wizard channel. Why didn't you tell me anything?
— I didn't know. I only found out minutes before they pushed me into the press conference.
Harry said something that sounded like 'Holy Merlin' under his breath. In a low whisper, he asked:
— Did you do a press conference?
He couldn't believe it. He didn't watch it. Thank you, Merlin.
— It was as bad as you're imagining. — I warned him.
Harry paused again, absorbing and analyzing what I was saying. Apparently, he decided to put the news of my stupidity in front of the cameras aside for now.
— Is it true? Is he your new advisor? — He asked hesitantly, as slowly as possible. I loved my best friend even more, that was a fact.
— Yes, it is true. He will be co-supervisor with Minerva.
On a strange exhalation, Harry muttered: — I'm going to pass out.
I started to laugh even harder, at the same time a yawn tried to rise in me.
— You are the drama king, Harry.
— Ron, Hermione, he is the drama king. — He complained. — Aren't you really lying?
I groaned, pushing the sheets even lower around my waist.
— No, Harry. It is true. Lore Bagman, the Ministry's supervisor, that idiot I told you about, mailed the team. — I explained.
Harry was quiet for a moment. I was dying a little waiting for his reaction. I mean, I wasn't surprised he had his own version of an attack. Harry had been rooting for Snape's reinsertion into the Wizarding World for years.
— I feel dizzy.
My whole body was shaking from laughing so hard.
— Stop.
— Hermione… I'm going to cry.
My stomach was cramping from trying so hard to hold back the laughter.
— Harry, stop.
I couldn't stop laughing because I have known Harry since we were eleven, he was being totally honest. Harry wasn't a whiner. But I knew how much it meant to him that Snape would return a hero to the Wizarding World. It was historic reparation for a man who was so misjudged. By Harry himself. By everyone. And Harry's sense of justice was astronomical.
— He will be your mentor. — He squeaked, and I mean really squeaked.
— I know. I got about ten owls from people I know, asking me if this was true. You are all crazy.
Harry simply repeated himself: — He will be your mentor.
— I'll let you know when classes start, so you can come over to meet him.
So he did it, he crossed the line again.
— Hermione, don't tell anyone, but you're my favorite.
My God. — Harry!
There was a scream in the background that sounded like Ron and was followed by what I could only assume was Harry holding the phone away from his face as he yelled: — I was kidding!...You told me you hated me yesterday, right? Why are you going to be my favorite when you say you wish I wasn't your brother-in-law? — Then more yelling from Ron, until Harry came back on the line with a resigned sigh. — Ron, I really don't know what to make of him.
— I feel you.
I felt it, at least partially. I couldn't imagine how difficult it was for Ron to be a pure-blood wizard and to have lost every bit of his magic. I sat, with the phone still on my face, lying on my bed, immersed in the idea of learning from Severus Snape again. I swallowed the nervousness and anticipation down. No big deal, I muttered to myself. Right. What I need to do is concentrate on absorbing everything he has to teach me.
And with that thought, I ended my conversation with Harry.
— Go to bed, it's late.
My body needed this. It only took me another ten minutes of staring at the wall to really decide that, if I could show Snape the full potential of my magic, that would be great. I fell asleep with the image of Severus Snape's face in my memory. And I had the same dream as when I was a teenager: I married him.
Final Notes
New project: long-fic and slow burn. Who's in?
