September 1999

It did not take long for Hermione to notice something odd was happening between Tonks and Remus. They were perfectly friendly to the other instructors and their students were clearly smitten with both of them, but there was a clear distance between the two of them. She often only saw one of them at a time and when she did see both of them at once, the conversation had a strained cordiality.

Considering all that they had been through, what with Teddy and new jobs and such, it made sense that there was some friction between the two of them. Even so, it was difficult not to notice that the couple did not talk about anything other than their child when they were with each other. Remus, Tonks, and Teddy would often accompany Hermione to visit Harry at Grimmauld Place. Even though it was no longer Order of the Phoenix headquarters, it was still treated as a meeting place, but Harry did not seem to mind.

The last time they had gone, Tonks had spent the entire time talking to Harry and Ron about their Auror training. Hermione had never seen Harry study this hard for anything. For the first time, she realized how badly he wanted this. She knew that he had wanted to become an Auror for years, and she always thought he would be exceptional at it, but she hadn't seen him practice anything so much since Dumbledore's Army. And not just the fun, action parts, with spells and curse detection. He and Ron quizzed each other for hours, stopping briefly while they ate.

She had thought Ron would begin to feel jealous of Harry again, but he was so involved with the shop that he seemed as busy as Harry. He would sit and chat with them, but she would see him scribbling small notes to himself about progress reports while he joked and laughed.

While the Aurors talked shop, Hermione and Remus had talked with Neville, who was also visiting. Ginny, who had a few days off in between practices, was playing with Teddy.

"He's so cute," she cooed, tickling Teddy, whose hair turned bright orange to match her own. "I can't wait to have kids."

At this, Harry turned bright red.

Ron frowned, looking at Harry. "Don't get any ideas."

"Don't worry, Ron," Ginny said. "We've already got plenty of those." She winked at Harry.

Ron's response was cut off by Neville who self consciously cleared his throat.

"Actually," Neville said. "I have some news." Everyone turned to him, surprised. "Hannah and I are having a baby."

There was a pause and then Harry grabbed him and whooped. "Congratulations, mate. That's amazing."

Neville's face flushed. "I'm going to be a father." He sounded more like he was telling himself than anyone else.

They all gathered around Neville to offer their congratulations as well. "If you need anything, just let us know. Teddy'll have outgrown it all by the time your baby comes along," Tonks said.

"How is Hannah?" Ginny asked.

"She's- she's so happy. We both are. I know it seems kind of sudden, but-"

"No, Neville. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks. You deserve this, both of you. I'm so happy for you," Hermione said, giving him a hug.

They stayed a bit longer to celebrate, but eventually Neville wanted to get back to Hannah, and the Lupins were ready to go home as well. Harry and Ginny walked the others outside where they all exchanged hugs before Hermione apparated back to Hogwarts.

It felt wonderful to see her friends in person. She was keeping in touch with others as well through letters, but it was never same as getting to see someone face to face. She received heartfelt letters from Luna, who was traveling through Siberia in search of some creature of dubious existence. She also frequently wrote Viktor and Fleur. She and Viktor had reconnected after the war when he became Bill's partner in the curse breaking department of Gringotts.

Her relationship with Fleur had been a bit more unexpected. Fleur had developed somewhat of a mothering complex over Hermione after taking care of her at Shell Cottage. Fleur penned updates on Victoire and Bill, on the mess with Gringotts, and suggestions to help with pain that Hermione still felt from the torture she had endured. Hermione in turn replied with questions about Victoire and talked about Hogwarts, and the horrible state that her third year class was in.

Her third year students had become the bane of her existence. They had two years of terrible teaching behind them and had learned close to nothing. Her second year students were less behind simply because they had less ground they should have covered. The older students had been taught, at least in part, by Minerva, so they at least understood the basics. The only saving grace of the class was that some of her favorite students were in it.

Hermione tried not to let her biases show, but one of her favorite students was Oliver Brisk. For a while, she couldn't figure out why. He had the self assured grin that only the most mischievous boys had, and he seemed far more interested in cracking jokes with his friends than in whatever she was teaching that day. Finally about halfway through September when he proudly announced that he would be trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she knew why. It surprised her that she hadn't realized before; he reminded her of a young Harry, with dark, curly hair, heavy-framed glasses that somehow made him more popular instead of less, and had the temperament of the classic Gryffindor. Also like Harry, he seemed to attract trouble.

Only a couple of days had passed since his announcement when Oliver came into her class late, seeming rather fidgety. Hermione took five points from Gryffindor for his tardiness, but he barely seemed to notice. He stayed behind after class, telling his friends to go ahead, but he didn't say anything to Hermione until everyone else had left the classroom.

Even then, he seemed reluctant to speak.

"I think someone is in trouble, but I don't know what to do," he said. "I don't know whether helping them is going to get me into trouble or not."

"This sounds serious, Mr. Brisk. Who do you think is in trouble?"

"Never mind, Professor." He grabbed his bag and darted out of the classroom before she could ask him anything else.

She was still thinking about the strange conversation with Oliver Brisk when she went to dinner. She carried on small talk with Septima, who seemed determined to take Hermione under wing.

Hermione finally felt like she was seen as a professor and colleague rather than a student. The other professors (except for Snape) called her Hermione, and she in turned called them by their name. She was also starting to pick up on quirks that her colleagues hid from students. All except for Tonks and Lavender seemed to drink heavily, and most of their social interactions with each other consisted of either drinking or gambling. Hermione settled for radiating silent disapproval at these events, afraid that outright condemnation would make her an outcast. Everyone else seemed highly amused by this.

Pomona was a morning person, and cheerfully greeted everyone she saw before noon, but she was nothing but grumpy after nine PM. Aurora, who had always been a stern, distant professor, was quite warm with other teachers and seemed fond of them all. Others had quirks as well. For instance, Filius had a habit of humming while he ate, something Hermione neither understood nor particularly enjoyed, but there it was.

Even at that moment, he was humming a little tune on the other side of her. Suddenly, in the middle of the melody, there was a loud ruckus from the Gryffindor table. Two third years stood on top of their seats and yelled "It's Oliver Brisk's birthday!" The entire table burst out into "Happy Birthday". A few from other houses and even some professors joined in. Hermione looked at Oliver, who seemed undisturbed by the concern he had relayed to her earlier that day. Still, it must have been something that was bothering him if he stayed after class on his fourteenth birthday.

She asked Minerva about it when she stopped by her mentor's office later in the evening.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Minerva assured her. "It's likely nothing but the overactive imagination of a teenage boy. I'm sure you can relate," she added dryly, "after years with Potter and Weasley."

"Anyway," she continued. "I heard that Mr. Brisk is not the only one with a September birthday."

Hermione knew that Minerva knew full well that her birthday was in September, but she only smiled. "Yes, I'll be twenty this year."

Minerva nodded. "It's a wonderful age. Don't let yourself get caught up with young men. Or women for that matter. "

Hermione blushed. "I don't think that will be a problem."

Minerva gave her a look that seemed rather unbelieving.

The week before Hermione's birthday, Quidditch tryouts started. It was beginning to look like she would never hear the end of the sport. It was all the students talked about, and Ginny had given Hermione tickets to see the Holyhead Harpies. Hermione promised that she would go to every single game she could to support one of her closest friends.

And if she didn't understand what was happening until people started cheering, who would know the difference? Well, Harry. And Ron. But she had gotten good at faking her enthusiasm over the years. She even had picked up a few terms, like the reverse pass and the sloth grip roll. Ron had scoffed when she had tried to use the terms in conversation, "It doesn't count if you can't point out when they are actually happening," he told her. Feeling bad for discouraging her, he tried to make amends, "But don't worry. You are definitely catching on."

The students were not the only ones who were excited for the start of the season. Minerva's yearly competitive streak was beginning to show itself again and Snape's was not much better.

"This is our year," Minerva said as she watched the students in the Great Hall. "I feel it." She pointed towards Aurora and Severus, "You will be crushed."

Aurora and Severus smirked at each other, clearly disagreeing.

"I doubt that. A team is only as good as its keeper," Severus said dryly.

Minerva gasped. "You will eat your words, Severus! Creevey is an excellent keeper!"

Hermione looked towards the boy in question. Dennis Creevey was now in sixth year, and the shrimpy boy that had entered during her third year now stood tall with broad shoulders and a long gait. He was polite in class and seemed popular enough. Hermione would not be surprised if he were made Head Boy next year.

"I'm in agreement with you, Minerva," Remus said. "It's going to be a good year."

"Of course you're on her side, Lupin," Severus snapped. "You're from the same infuriating house."

"That doesn't mean that they can't pick the winning team," Hermione objected.

"Granger, you don't know anything about Quidditch," Snape said dismissively.

"I do so!"

"You don't know the difference between a bludger and a broomstick."

"Leave her alone, Severus. Save your insults for the Quidditch field," Minerva said, her Scottish brogue becoming more prominent.

"I do so know the difference!"

"Are you willing to make a wager?"

"What?" She asked, surprised.

"Are you willing to bet on the winning team?"

As she had already repeatedly expressed to Minerva, Hermione was not a betting person. "No," she said, "I'm not." Severus did not look surprised.

"Well I think it would be good odds," Minerva said giving Hermione a significant look. The other professors agreed. Hermione deflated, knowing that meant she did not have much choice in the matter.

"We'll see in a few weeks, then."

Hermione looked towards the Gryffindor table and made eye contact with Oliver Brisk, who quickly looked away. She wondered if the students could tell that most of the faculty had just spent the meal bickering over the students' first Quidditch game.

She felt large hands seize her roughly, clamping down on her and pinning her torso to the floor. A weight settled on the lower half of her body despite her struggle. The person on her gave a low chuckle. There was a decrepit smell that only grew worse as greasy curls brushed against her face and lips were dragged across her flinched at a light tapping on her head.

"Open your eyes," Bellatrix sang.

Hermione squeezed them shut, unwilling to look at the woman currently sprawled on top of her.

"OPEN THEM," Bellatrix roared into her face. Hermione forced herself to open them. Bellatrix's face was mere centimeters away from her own.

"Now," Bellatrix said with a horrible grin, "Let's finish what we started." There was a flash of silver, and just as the knife touched her neck, Hermione woke up with a start.

She sat up, breathing hard. She was in her bedroom at Hogwarts. She slowly pulled her wand out from underneath her pillow and whispered a shaky "Lumos."

Hermione put a hand to her face, which was wet. When she inspected her hand in the wand light, she saw that there was no blood.

Am I crying?

She didn't feel like she was crying, but as she put her palm against her cheek for the second time, she realized that tears were running down her face.

Crookshanks hopped up on the bed, settling into her lap. His weight was a calming presence and erased the weight of Bellatrix that had followed her out of the dream. As she pet him, he began to purr and the noise, too, was calming. She knew that there was no way that she was going back to sleep, but she was too afraid to light any candles that would provide more light in the room. If she lit up the room and saw Bellatrix standing there, she would lose it.

In moments like this, reminding herself that Bellatrix was dead never seemed to help much. So she sat there, numb, clutching her wand. Since Hermione's time at the Malfoy Manor, sleep had become rather elusive. She had lost count of the number of times similar dreams had jerked her awake.

She sat still for some time. Perhaps it was time to do some research and see if there was a way to prevent the nightmares aside from potions. After all, Dreamless Sleep was both costly and addictive, and she had just run out of her supply.

Hermione decided that a trip to the library might be in order. She sat on her bed for a minute longer, debating whether she wanted to go tonight. Crookshanks jumped off the bed and pawed at her bedroom door. Taking that as a sign, Hermione quickly got up and threw a robe over her pajamas.

The walk from her rooms to the library was not long, and she had visited often enough as a student to have little issue, even in the dark. Crookshanks followed at her heels. When she got there, she paused for a moment, taking in the familiar smell of old books and the faint scent of wood polish that Filch used.

"Lumos."

Despite no longer being a student, Hermione was quiet as she shifted through the tomes lining the room. Irma Pince had never been particularly fond of Hermione, despite their mutual love of books. Hermione had often brought Harry and Ron to the library with her, both of whom irritated Pince immensely. Hermione had also frequently checked books out, a practice that Pince probably wished she could discontinue altogether.

There was a copy of The Dream Oracle which Hermione knew to be a Divination textbook, so she wrinkled her nose and kept looking. Dream Discoveries, Daydreams or Visions?, and The Advanced Guide for Dreams and What They Mean proved to be equally useless. Most of the books appeared to be about dream interpretation, not dream prevention.

The books in the Restricted Section provided little help as well. How To Help the Sleepless and its companion How To Sleep Less were both interesting, but yielded little relevant information. The same was true with the other books. Maybe she needed to think broader.

She flicked through the other tomes, working around the traps that Pince was known to set, especially in the Restricted Section. Nothing stood out to her until she came upon a dark, slim book. The writing on the spine was so faint that she had to peer at the cover to discern the title: The Logic Behind Legilimency.

Hermione frowned and returned the book to its place, continuing to run her fingers over the titles. She knew little about Legilimency besides what Harry had learned during his lessons with Severus years before. Even then, most of the focus had been on Occlumency. She paused, her fingers skidding to a stop. Occlumency was the art of defending the mind from intrusions or attacks, achieved by suppressing memories and controlling emotion. Would such a practice be useful?

There was only a single book about Occlumency, and it seemed much too short to cover anything in depth. She grabbed it anyway.

"What do you think, Crooks?" She whispered, turning it over in her hand. It was simply titled Occlumency. She looked around into the dark library, holding her wand up. "Crooks?" She whispered louder.

There was a blunt sound as the door to the library swung open. Hermione quickly enlarged one of the pockets of her robe and stuffed the book inside before striding towards the entrance, wand still lit.

A moment later, she came face to face with a rather exasperated Severus Snape.

"Severus," she greeted him.

"Again, Granger?" he said, eyebrow raised. "I thought nighttime wanderings were Potter's purview." He looked behind her, as though he expected that she had left the library in ruins. "What were you doing?"

"Just some light reading before bed, I'm afraid. Nothing too exciting."

He pursed his lips. "I'm sure."

"Well, I'm rather tired, so I'll head off," she edged past him. He turned to watch her, arms crossed.

"Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight, Granger."

Today was Hermione Granger's birthday. Severus knew this because he had been informed of this fact repeatedly, as though the sun rose and then set according to the life of a bushy haired know-it-all. And yet, despite his reservations, he found himself roped into the festivities as Minerva had already informed him that she would make sure that he was present for the duration of the evening. That evening, there was to be a surprise party consisting of the faculty, Potter, at least eighty Weasleys, and whatever other poor or misguided souls that had been coerced into attending the ordeal. He did not relish the idea of seeing Potter again, or being at the birthday celebration of one Miss Granger, but some things could not be helped.

As it turned out, the evening unfolded similarly to his predictions. Potter was there, as were an entire flock of Weasleys. All of his colleagues looked joyful and well on their way to an alcohol induced obliteration. Minerva gave him a nod when he came in, equal parts greeting and warning to not think that he could duck out unnoticed.

It was not long after Severus entered that he noticed Potter trying to catch his eye. Curling his lip in disgust, Severus looked around for someone he could stomach talking to for more than a were small groups of people talking around the room, none of which he was eager to join. Biswas was chatting amicably with George Weasley, who looked older but no less troublesome. Horace Slughorn, who had apparently heard that there was a party where Harry Potter & Co. would be attending, was talking to Ginny Weasley, whose patience appeared to fading quickly. Poppy and Pomona stood hand-in-hand talking with Longbottom, of all people. He looked much too satisfied for anyone with such as ridiculous name.

Seeing Potter make his way towards him, he abruptly moved in the direction of the drinks that were located on the other side of the room.

"It'll be a busy year for you," Severus overhead Pomona say to Longbottom. "Between a new baby and teaching next year."

Severus snorted, but suppressed the comment regarding Longbottom's inevitably dubious offspring as he walked by them.

He had only just managed to obtain a drink when the room went suddenly quiet with only the sound coming from the rustling of robes. A few seconds later, Septima and Granger walked through the door.

"SURPRISE!" Everyone shouted. There was a cacophony of noise as George set off a couple of small firecrackers, and others blew noise makers. Confetti rained from the ceiling, and Peeves suddenly appeared, dropping an entire cake pan. Frosting splattered all over the floor and people's feet.

Granger looked around her as tears filled her eyes.

"Wow," she said, smiling quickly. From his position across the room, Severus frowned. For a fraction of a second, he thought he had seen a look of undiluted fear on her Potter and Weasley pulled her into a "birthday hug," and by the time Severus could see her face again, she looked genuinely happy, although still weepy.

"Thank you all so much," she said sniffling. "This is incredible.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," Minerva said.

"Happy birthday!" Everyone chorused.

And so the party continued. Severus counted the entire thing a great success, mainly because he had managed to avoid Potter for the entire evening. It took over an hour, but eventually the crowd surrounding Granger began to dissipate. Seeing his opportunity, he approached her to wish her a happy birthday. Minerva would be after his head tomorrow if he didn't.

"Quite a passionate bunch your friends are," he commented. "From what I hear, they've been planning this party for weeks."

She cocked her head and grinned slightly. "From what you hear? I assumed that you planned the whole thing yourself."

They both looked around at the table laden with food, the bright colors, and the cake frosting that was still on the floor.

"I think you give me too much credit, Granger," he said at last.

"Really? This entire party has your name written all over it." She gave him another smile, and he wondered what he had done to earn it. "Thank you for coming, Severus."

"Happy birthday, Granger."

"Thank you," she said, glancing around. She made a shooing motion in his direction. "Minerva is talking to Rolanda, which means she won't notice what anyone else is doing for at least the next thirty minutes. Now's your chance to escape," she offered, eyes sparkling mischievously.

He casually glanced behind him where Minerva was indeed flirting with the flying instructor.

"Thank goodness for lesbians," he muttered.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "Thank goodness for lesbians."

He bid Granger goodnight before slipping out, neatly avoiding having to speak with anyone else.


In case, you couldn't tell, this is going to be a long story. Thank you for reading! Please review!