Transition chapters are a necessary evil. You can't just jump from major plot point to major plot point without it being completely jarring and disjointed. Having said that, you have to fill the gaps with something. I'm pretty satisfied with how this one turned out, because I think it has some nice character moments in it, and I think you can never have too much character development. But I certainly don't feel that way about all the transition chapters in this story.

"You what?"

"I know…"

"You what?"

Harry's head explodes whenever Hermione does something stupid.

"I know, it was stupid of me."

"I just—I can't believe you're still alive to tell the tale!"

"Oh stop it. But yes, I am a bit surprised, too."

"What in the hell were you thinking?"

"I thought I was helping?"

"Blimey, even I know better than to do that."

"Will you give it a rest, Harry? You've made your bloody point."

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to you doing something stupid. This is all new to me. Ow!"

Maturity. They haz it.

"I still say it helped. They didn't quite interact with me, but they weren't afraid of me. That's progress."

"Do you think that matters to him? Has a positive result obtained by disobeying him ever mattered to him?"

"He's different now. We're different. That was a long time ago."

"Yes, he's no longer the dungeon bat. He's like a grizzly bear protecting her cubs."

"That's almost…sweet."

"Snape, sweet?"

"Yeah, doesn't quite sound right, does it?"

"It very much does not."

"And yet also fits."

"If you say so."

"It's complicated."

"So…what happens now?"

"I wait for an invitation to go back?"

"I think you might be waiting a long time."

"I think so too."

The little traitors.

They actually asked him when Granger was coming back. Said they liked the story she read. Said they liked the way she read the story. Said they wanted to know how it ended.

They like her, they really like her. I was accused by one reader of turning her into a Mary Sue for this. Not entirely sure that fits - she's just one of the few people who's ever been nice to them.

They had, against all odds, against everything Severus would have believed, already formed a connection with her. A bond. They wanted her back. They had never once, in five years, wanted anyone to come back.

As furious as Severus still was that she had read to them, and that she had done so against his express instructions, but mostly because she read to them, he couldn't ignore progress when he saw it. Not when such steps were so rare and unexpected and precious.

With a grimace and a grumble, he summoned a sheet of parchment.

Granger,

Do not ask me to understand why, but the children seem to prefer your shrill reading voice to mine, and have asked when you will come to finish Through the Looking Glass. While I would prefer that their heads not be filled with faerie stories on a regular basis, save for those based in fact on the Magical world, at least it has piqued their interest in reading.

Please inform me of the next available evening you have.

If you make me regret this, you will be lucky to remember your own name by the time I am through with you.

S. Snape

Severus fell asleep reading to them that night. He had been out late visiting some of his graduates the night before, he was starting to feel ill, and he'd had no time to brew any Pepper-Up potion.

He had told Granger that only he read to them. This was true. He had not mentioned that he occasionally let some of the younger ones curl up next to him while he did so. Severus was not an openly affectionate man or a warm man, but he knew that it gave them some comfort to be near a warm body, so he let them.

That was the story he had prepared, anyway, should he ever be asked about it.

He snored softly, as did the two boys and girl who had curled up near him and fallen asleep listening to the sound of his voice.

In the morning, Severus would be grateful that Granger hadn't yet replied to his missive.

He enjoyed these moments with them. He was loathe to give them up to someone else. But he knew it would be better for them if he did.

So he did. For them. Reluctantly.

Severus's possessiveness is oddly endearing to me.

When Severus answered the door, he gave Granger his scariest Professor-Snape-Is-Watching-You-And-Merlin-Help-You-If-You-Make-A-Mistake glare. Trademarked. Patent-pending. He had usually reserved it for Neville Longbottom. He had been particularly susceptible to its effects. He allowed himself a small internal smile at the memory.

"Good evening, Severus," Granger said nervously.

"You remember what I said in my owl?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

"I do."

"Good."

"Thank you."

"For?"

"Inviting me back."

Hermione's trying for positive reinforcement here.

Severus said nothing, but merely gave a curt nod and indicated for her to enter.

Severus decided to stay in the ground floor sitting room this time, in the corner, out of sight. He was not concerned Granger would do anything stupid or dangerous. Rather, he wanted to see what it was about her that made the children wish for her presence, as opposed to the others who had been around them.

He observed her closely. He glared at her all night. While he noticed the shine of the firelight glinting off her moist lips, and the way her eyes sparkled with the zest of a true lover of the written word, and how she licked her middle finger before turning each page (he paid especially close attention to the way her pink tongue darted out, grazed the pad of her middle finger, and then withdrew back between her lips), he couldn't pinpoint anything tangible that would make the children long for her presence. It was her presence, the way she carried herself, that seemed to draw them in.

She was gentle and warm but kept her distance. She let them come to her, rather than force herself on them. Her voice was soothing yet commanding. She avoided eye contact yet formed a connection between herself and her audience. She gave them space and intimacy at the same time. She exuded confidence and compassion and warmth.

Whatever it was, they responded to it.

After one particularly amusing passage, Severus jerked his head up and leaned forward at the sound of something he thought he would never hear.

Laughter. One of the children actually laughed.

Granger apparently did not miss this either. Though she did not break in her reading, she looked up over their heads and met Severus's eyes, her pride and happiness evident in her expression. Severus could not help but allow a smile to break out over his own face. For only a moment. And when Granger mentioned it as she left that night, he denied it.

"Well, how did I do?" she asked as she pulled on her coat to leave.

She had held their attention for a sustained period of time and made one of them laugh out loud, two major milestones. How did the little chit think she had done? Of course, there was only one response.

"Passable." Amazing.

He made sure he said it with a sneer.

The woman might drive him absolutely insane, but he could not deny that she got results.

He invited her back every night for the rest of the week. Under his supervision, of course. For their protection.

The second night went without incident. The children were visibly more relaxed than they had been the night before. Severus couldn't help but notice that they had taken seats slightly closer to Granger than to himself. They weren't avoiding him, he knew, but rather weren't cowering from Granger. Another step.

He learned that night that it was possible to feel both warm and cold at the same time.

On the third night, Hermione's heart burst when a little girl with black hair and green eyes came to sit next to her as she read. It wasn't a cuddle, but on the same sofa, fairly close, and of her own volition.

I don't remember which kid this was supposed to be.

When she met Snape's eyes, she would swear that he saw moisture pooling in them.

She knew better than to draw attention to it.

But it wasn't lost on her that he stopped staring daggers in her direction after that.

I wanted these two to bond over something other than a love of books. Lots of people like books. A love of books is not enough of a foundation for a relationship. It reminds me of the scene in Friends where Phoebe meets her mom. "I like pizza." "I like pizza too! Oh my god!" You need something else. A shared project is a great way to explore similar interests as they arise.

As they sat in the ground floor sitting room on the fourth night, after the children had been sent to bed, he turned to her and asked her a serious question.

"What are you doing here?"

"Haven't I answered that question enough already?"

"Granger, don't play stupid with me. Why are you really here?"

Again, optimism leads to suspicion.

"To help."

"Granger…" he said in a warning tone.

"I'm telling you the truth. I want to help. It's the least I can do. During the war…there were so many I could not save, so many things that happened outside of my control…"

"There are other causes, other needy groups."

"I think this is the neediest. They need us the most." She hesitated before speaking further. "And…"

"And?"

"And…"

"And?"

"And I wanted to help you, alright?"

"You didn't know I was involved in this."

"Not for certain, but I had guessed. Once I knew for certain, I knew I wanted to be involved."

He raised an eyebrow, challenging the authenticity of her statement.

"I'm serious. I'm alive because of you. Harry is alive because of you. You gave the Wizarding world a second chance at life…twice. Even if I didn't care about the welfare of the children—and I do very much—I would still be just as committed because I would want to do it for you."

Part of me thinks their relationship moved too fast, part of me thinks that this story would have been interminably long had I dragged it out any longer. I'm undecided.

He averted her eyes. "There is no debt owed for anything I have done."

"It's not about debt. It's about honour. Honouring you."

Severus couldn't help himself. He square in the eye and skimmed the surface of her mind, not caring if she noticed.

Remarkably, she seemed to believe every word she said.

Even more remarkably, so did he.

He would not ask again.

That's dangerous, the voice warned him. She could be Occluding you. If anyone's smart enough to get away with it, it's her.

Severus knew that she could do it. He just no longer believed that she would.

On the fifth night, he found himself leaning his head back into the cushion of the armchair he sat in, letting the sound of her narration wash over him.

He knew it was safe to close his eyes.

On the sixth night, he saw some of the children making eye contact with Granger and with each other.

They still weren't interacting, but they were at least aware and acknowledging each other. It would be a long time before they properly played with each other, or related to one another. But they no longer seemed to reflexively fear the presence of other people.

Granger made them feel safe, just like he did.

After a week of Granger's visits, in which the children all seemed more relaxed despite their continuing medical and psychological problems, Severus knew he wanted her there every night. With them. With him.

He also decided that, given their relaxed state, it might be time to introduce the rest of the volunteers to them. It would be a gamble; the introduction of additional strangers might hurt. Equally, they might help.

He hoped it wasn't a mistake to do so.

Breathe, he told himself, just breathe. Things are different now. You're both adults. He has no authority over you. He's not your Boggart anymore. He can't hurt you…right?

He shook his head and continued his internal pep talk. You told off Voldemort himself in front of Hogwarts and his lackeys and killed his snake, the final Horcrux. The Sword of Gryffindor came to you. Come off it. You're a teacher. He's a teacher. You will get on brilliantly. You're a grown man now. Are you really still afraid of your old potions teacher?

You mean, your old potions teacher who you actively incited rebellion against in your final year? Who now would have an actual reason to hate you?

Right, that one.

Suddenly the front door opened with great force and a familiar looming figure stood in its place, standing before him nose–to-nose. Talk of the devil and he appears.

"Longbottom! Stop gaping like a fish and get in here before somebody sees you. You've kept everyone waiting long enough while you stand out here no doubt trying to figure out the mechanics of using a simple door knocker. I had hoped you could keep time better than you could brew a simple burning salve. Clearly, when it comes to you, I live to be disappointed."

With a gulp, Neville Longbottom entered Number 12, Grimmauld Place for his first afternoon of teaching.

Ah, Severus and Neville. This was a great deal of fun to write. Their relationship was modeled after Michael Scott and Toby Flenderson on the US version of "The Office." For the uninitiated: Michael is the inappropriate boss, and Toby is the long-suffering HR person. Michael hates Toby with the fire of a thousand suns for absolutely no reason, despite the fact that Toby is the nicest guy in the office and keeps trying to be Michael's friend. In this story, I decided Neville would only ever be nice to Severus, and Severus would respond with nothing but hatred for it. No matter what else, that would remain a constant. It amused me to no end.

It had been many years since Severus had attended a Muggle school or studied a Muggle subject, but he was fairly certain every word out of this woman's mouth was rubbish.

"Now in South America there are no Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but only because it's populated by their cousin, the Dimple-Horned Snorkack. And don't forget that here in the Amazon live woodsprites, little faeries who you can't see except out of the corner of your eye, leading you toward the flying piranhas…"

The children were transfixed as Lovegood conjured holographic images of the creatures to float over their heads. Severus groaned rubbed his face with his palms. His only consolation was that the alternative was no instruction in geography, and that this was probably the best option.

Probably.

Cardinal rule for writing Luna Lovegood: You CANNOT make her too weird. No matter how weird you get, it's never too far.

"And here's one of him just waking up."

"Potter, for the last time, I have no desire to sit here and look at pictures of your offspring! Now will you give a short flying lesson in the garden or not?"

"Of course I will, Severus. In fact, I've already taken James up on a broom. He loved it; natural flier, he is. Think I've got a picture of it in here somewhere…"

NewDad!Harry was another tremendous source of amusement for me. The mental image of him forcing Severus to look at baby pictures had me giggling.

Granger held two well-worn paperbacks out to him. "Which one shall I read next?"

He took the books from her. "More Muggle faerie stories?"

He really, really tried to make that sound sarcastic and disdainful. He failed.

"They seemed to like the last one. So, which one?"

He ran his fingertip over the cover of the first book, trying not to betray how much he loved this particular story. "This one," he said softly.

She nodded and gave him a knowing smile as she took the volume back from him, as if she had known all along that he would select The Little Prince.

Obviously.

"Plants need water and sunshine to live, that's pretty much it. You can't really tell but plants actually breathe air, even though they have no lungs."

The student stared at Neville with scepticism then all turned around in unison to look at Snape, who was standing in the back of the room, in confirmation. Neville wondered if Snape had taught them all how to raise a single eyebrow, for they all did it. He sighed, nodded, and they all turned back around again.

I love that the kids, through exposure to Severus, are inherently suspicious of Neville's intelligence.

"Right…well, plants absorb rain that falls to the ground by their roots. Think of them like long, skinny sponges…"

"Do the children sleep well?" Luna asked Snape.

He shook his head. "No, unfortunately. Most of them suffer nightmares, many suffer night terrors on a regular basis. They require intervention. Often they will help each other, but I am aware of it whenever it happens. At least one of them has an episode every night."

"So you are not sleeping well either."

His face was impassive. "I never have required much sleep."

Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Nightmares are a manifestation of pain that has not been dealt with. They all have pain that they have suffered, continue to suffer. But the problem is that they need better sleep in order to be able to address this in real life."

Luna isn't psychic, but I like the idea of her being tremendously insightful to the point it makes Severus squirm. For someone who has built a wall around himself, constant exposure to someone who can see right through it is terrifying. I did realize over the course of writing their relationship that I was almost shipping them, but that wasn't the case. I wanted him to really bond with the others - with Harry, and with Luna. The Luna bonding was a surprise to me; I hadn't really intended for it to happen, but it did so very naturally.

"I am aware of that, Lovegood."

"Could they be given small doses of Dreamless Sleep?" Luna asked. "Just for awhile, to break the cycle?"

Snape shook his head. "Absolutely not. It is a highly addictive substance, its effects can be debilitating on fully grown adults, and there is no way I will administer even a small dose to small children."

"Well couldn't you create something that will help them sleep but not have those effects?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were the potions master for a whole generation of students. You invented spells and modified potions when you were even younger than we are now. Surely you could modify this one to be used safely on children." She smiled at him dreamily. "Or do I have you confused with the other Half Blood Prince?"

"Lovegood," Snape said in a warning tone.

"Oh dear, was that not the Half Blood Prince who did that? I apologise. I do confuse him sometimes."

Again, you can throw out the most nonsensical garbage and it works with her.

Snape opened his mouth as if to ask with whom, but decided against it. "Very well, Lovegood, I will see what I can do."

"Brilliant," Luna said with a smile. "I think you will find that this alone will make a huge difference."

She turned and walked out of the room, her long blond hair swaying behind her with each step, humming absently. She knew her reputation for being "Loony" Lovegood, and was not above using it to her advantage with others.

Sometimes she wondered if she wouldn't have been good for Slytherin.

"I don't think you want to do that, Severus," Potter said. "I never paid attention in History of Magic and didn't even OWL in it. I didn't even finish the OWL in it."

"I'm not asking you to do History of Magic; I have no desire to torture these children," Severus said. "I'm merely asking you to give a broad overview of the recent history of the UK. The basics. They'll need to know it eventually and they might as well begin now. Most of them are purebloods and have no idea."

"I know a little bit about it, but I'm no expert."

"I'm not asking for expertise. You were raised as a Muggle, you likely have more familiarity with the topic than you think. And if not, rectify that. Read a book, a newspaper, visit a website. Then remember what you read, tell it to them. That's it. It requires no intelligent or independent thought whatsoever on your part. Even you can manage that."

"Wouldn't Hermione be a better person for this? She actually votes in Muggle elections and follows Muggle news."

"No," Severus said firmly. "She reads to them at night."

"Just take your pencils and draw me a picture of the last dream you remember having," Luna said brightly. "Even if it's scary or fuzzy."

The children stared at their parchments warily, many of them having no desire to relive the things they saw behind their eyelids late at night.

"Is this really a good idea?" Harry whispered to Luna. He, unlike Hermione, obeyed Snape's command to sit and observe without question. "Won't it make things worse?"

She nodded. "Most of them aren't ready to talk about what happened to them. If they can express it in a picture, it would give me a place to start."

Harry shrugged. "You're the Ravenclaw, I guess."

Art therapy for kids is an actual thing.

Snape still insisted on being present whilst she read to the children. He usually brought work with him.

Hermione noticed that he never turned a page or made a single mark with his quill the entire time.

She decided not to call him out on it. She didn't mind him sitting there. Not a bit.

"Now, Ramona, who is this person here that you drew?" Luna asked, pointing to a figure in a drawing.

"My older brother, Randolph," Ramona Travers whispered. "He's a lot bigger than me."

"How much bigger is Randolph than you?"

"Twenty years older than me, Miss."

"I see, so he's a very big brother. And what is Randolph doing in this picture?"

"He's just sitting there, staring."

"What is he staring at?"

"Nothing. He just sits and stares at nothing."

"Where does he do this?"

"In the big stone tower in the ocean."

"Does he do this with anyone else?"

Ramona nodded. "With Mummy and Daddy."

Non-gratuitous demonstration of trauma.

"You know, Snape's a lot less scary when he's headmaster of only fifteen people," Neville mused over lunch at the Ministry canteen after his morning classes at Hogwarts and before his afternoon classes at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, well, he doesn't have a reptilian monster giving him orders this time, does he?"

"He asked me to teach maths. Once. It was dreadful. He had to take over for me."

"Are yours that bad?"

"He seemed to think so. I would have thought he would ask you to do it. He doesn't have you teaching anything, does he?"

"No, he only asks me to read to them in the evenings. He sits in and watches me do it every night."

"I hear them talk about it, they seem to really enjoy it."

"Who doesn't love a good book?"

"They say it's the only time they ever see Snape sit and relax. He sits in every night? He's even stopped observing all of my classes, and he thinks I'm an idiot."

"He doesn't think you're an idiot."

"Right."

"He also insists on having a say in what titles I read, too." Hermione shrugged. "He says he's concerned I'll fill their head with nonsense."

"You? Nonsense? Has he met you?"

Snape's modified potion, which he had been able to create rather quickly since he was able to leave the children in the care of Neville or Luna or Harry or Hermione for hours while he brewed in the basement, had almost completely stopped the nightmares. He had been hesitant to use it, fearing that chemical dependency was not the solution, but finally acquiesced. Luna suspected it was because he himself was not getting any sleep and was at the end of his rope.

He took great pains to assure everyone that this was merely temporary.

With the nightmares gone, the children were more rested and better able to participate. When Luna began her therapy sessions, art therapy in particular, she noticed that all the children would work side by side but not really with each other. They definitely interacted, huddling together when frightened, but beyond that would not interact with each other short of any sort of upheaval. Now…they were passing each other supplies and even on occasion narrating their illustrations to each other.

Luna could tell that a big problem with these children was an inability to socialise with others. With the exception of siblings who interacted frequently with each other, they almost all withdrew inwards and lived a solitary existence whilst in a large group.

An end to nightmares was an end to paranoia in the dark, was a chance for escape and solitude. Eventually they began seeking out each other in their waking lives. They wanted to talk to each other, at least a little bit. This told Luna that they were progressing. They sought comfort from other people, rather than bottle up the fear and pain inside and let it out in their dreams.

The drawings were still horrific and heartbreaking, and the children were definitely not socialising in a normal way. But it was a start.

"You know, Severus," Potter said. "They are really looking better—the kids."

"It's the cooking of that accursed House Elf," Severus replied shortly. Why the hell was he making small talk with Potter?

Because you've completely lost control of your own life, said the voice.

"Makes a difference, doesn't it? Being cared for like that."

"They finally get to eat something real on a regular basis," he elaborated, hating himself for being drawn into a conversation. "And thanks to the modified potion they are sleeping more. It all makes a difference. Glastonbury could never spare money for more than gruel. They were malnourished. It was positively Dickensian."

"Positively what?"

"Dickens—never mind."

Ha.

"You want to take them out…to the zoo?" Severus said slowly in his very best you-are-an-idiot voice reserved for the slowest students in his classes.

Lovegood nodded. "The smaller magical zoo in Kew, of course, not the big Muggle one. They're healthier now, psychologically and physically, and I think some socialisation outside among other people might do them good. They are interacting with each other in a controlled environment. I would like to see if they can handle a foreign one. They need to leave the house eventually, you know."

"I cannot spend a day at the zoo. I have too much work here."

"You wouldn't have to—Neville and I will take them."

Severus hesitated. Leave the children in the hands of Lovegood and Longbottom? Only Lovegood and Longbottom?

"Don't you trust my judgment?"

Severus spared her a glare.

"They really can handle it, I'm sure of it. The art therapy has done wonders for them. Haven't you noticed that some of them have stopped using the potion and yet the nightmares have still abated? And that they're eating more? And that they're even acting like normal children on occasion—smiling and laughing and playing with each other, instead of next to each other?"

Severus really didn't want to concede that Luna Lovegood was right about anything.

"I promise I won't talk to them about Snorkacks anymore."

"Enjoy the zoo, Miss Lovegood."

Negotiation, Luna-style. "Give me what I want and I'll tone down the crazy."

The children all bent over their parchments, tracing over the diagrams and practicing their very own joined-up writing. Cursive, for my American readers. Little tongues stuck out of the corners of their mouths in concentration as they tried to master the use of quills, which were much harder for little fingers to manipulate than Muggle pens. Longbottom walked between them, offering words of encouragement or pausing to help with technique. He would demonstrate to the class as a whole by swishing his wand and tracing letters in the air in Gryffindor red so they could see.

Severus smirked. He may have been completely useless when it came to potions, but Longbottom did have beautiful handwriting. Penmanship had been the only obstacle between Longbottom and a permanent T in his classes.

Not that Severus had told him so, of course. His request had been more along the lines of, "Longbottom, your ridiculously effeminate handwriting has to be of some use in this world. And since you're completely hopeless when it comes to maths, you might be of some use after all."

Granger,

Is there any chance you might begin selecting less fanciful texts and ones that would be more applicable to their lives and practical for the future?

SS

Severus,

These children are growing up in a world full of unicorns and leprechauns and ghosts and magic and gryphons and hippogriffs, and you're concerned that stories like Peter Pan and The Jungle Books and The Princess Bride are too fanciful for them?

Did you write that with a straight face?

In other words, not a chance, Professor. If you want to narrate potions textbooks to them, you do it on your own time. See you this evening.

Hermione.

Granger,

I look forward to it.

SS

To his own chagrin, he found that he really did.