A/N: All my love to those who favorited, followed and reviewed! Yes, Harry is already here...but I've made a large tweak to his role in the story. In this version there is no *specific* Chosen One, and there was never a prophecy. Lily and James were killed because Lily was a Muggleborn and James died defending her. Snape tipped them off that DEs were coming to their village, so they hid baby Harry before their home was invaded; therefore, Voldemort never even saw him. As far as this story is concerned, they were simply another notch in his belt and there was nothing special about that night. Harry is not The Boy Who Lived, nor is he a Horcrux. Just thought I'd set the backstory so you would all better understand.

Ever Yours,

SunnyBunny99

Chapter VIII

Warm sunlight streaming through the tall stained glass windows woke Hermione, and she yawned and stretched languorously. The air smelled faintly of burnt incense and her sharp amber eyes tracked every tiny dust mote floating through the golden shafts of light for a few relaxing minutes before she stirred herself to rise and dress.

While fumbling to lace up the back of her corset, Hermione noticed something that had escaped her scrutiny the night before: a small arched wooden door set into the far wall by the chest of drawers. Thinking nothing of it, she walked over and grasped the plain brass knob, pushing the door open and staring into the room beyond—

—and found herself face to face with a rather shocked Severus Snape. His black eyes widened, thin lips parting ever so slightly as he beheld her there. In the suspended moment between them Hermione's treacherous eyes roamed down his body, which was only half-clothed in a pair of simple cotton breeches. He was much taller and broader when close up and not in armor, his pale skin stretched taut over the jutting line of his collarbone and lean torso with a smattering of dark hair on his pectorals, trailing down below the waist of his breeches. His long arms, solid with lean muscle and roped with veins, rose up from his sides—

—and forcefully shoved Hermione backwards, into her own chambers as his deep, husky voice snarled at her, "What the hell are you doing, girl?! Get out of my room!"

Struck speechless, Hermione could do nothing but watch as he slammed the door shut and locked it firmly from the other side. She had a fleeting thought to bang on the door and apologize, to insist it was an accident, but the reasonable side of her mind shut that idea down quickly. He would be in no mood to hear it now; she would have to find him later and explain things.

Sighing, Hermione turned away and felt her stomach growl. She had no idea how she could possibly be hungry again after last night's feast, but somehow it happened. Remembering what the house-elf had said, she softly called out, "Dobby!"

Instantly there came a crack and Dobby stood before her, looking sheepish and hopeful at the same time. "Dobby is here for Miss Granger! What is Miss Granger needing?"

Hermione smiled down at the elf. "Good morning, Dobby. I was wondering if you could take me to the main hall where we ate last night? I'm a bit hungry."

"Dobby is happy to help!"

Crack! They were back in the Great Hall, the ceiling now showing a beautiful rosy dawn overhead. Hermione turned to thank Dobby, but he was already gone. She focused on the long dining table again and saw Sirius there...sitting and eating breakfast with the green-eyed stable boy.

"Funny, I thought knights didn't interact with people of lower social status," she teased lightly as she approached them.

Sirius turned and his eyes lit up. "Ah, Miss Granger! Good morning. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner—this is my godson Harry. Harry, meet Miss Granger."

"We've already met, actually, but it's good to see you," said Harry with a smile.

"And you as well," returned Hermione warmly. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," said Harry, and she settled in to fill her plate.

"Where are all the others?" she asked between bites.

"As you know, Jones and Podmore are recovering in the hospital wing," said Sirius. "Mad-Eye is probably sleeping off a hangover, Remus and Tonks are either doing the same or having sex—"

Hermione choked on her egg.

"—and Snape...well, who cares about his greasy arse," Sirius finished scornfully.

Once she had gotten her breath back, Hermione cleared her throat and asked gingerly, "And what of Lord Dumbledore?"

Sirius shrugged. "He's an anomaly. There's no telling with him, to be honest. He could be anywhere, doing anything."

"So...what does everyone do when they're here?" Hermione asked. "Tonks told me Snape is a Potioneer, but what about you?"

"I serve odd chores around the castle, mostly helping Argus Filch, our blacksmith," Sirius said. "Tonks helps Poppy Pomfrey—our nurse—gather, make and stock medicines, and serves as an aide when needed. Remus teaches part of the squire's curriculum as they progress to knighthood."

The double doors at the end of the hall opened again and in strode another young man. The snobbishness was evident merely in his walk, even though his clothes were no finer than Harry's; he had narrow gray eyes, high arched brows and white-blond hair, now ruffled from the wind outdoors. He took one look at the three sitting at the table and scoffed, the corner of his lip curling up, before he crossed the hall and sauntered into the corridor, out of sight.

Hermione already hated him. "Who was that?"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry muttered sourly. "He's a stablehand just like me, hoping to get into the squire's program for knighthood."

"His father sent him here while he marches with the Death Eaters," Sirius added in a growl. "Wants to keep his precious baby boy safe until he's ripe for picking, then I reckon he'll join ranks with Ol' Snake Face."

"Does Lord Dumbledore know his father is with the Dark Lord? Surely he wouldn't allow the son of a Death Eater to try for a knighthood in the Order," Hermione reasoned.

"Oh, Dumbledore knows all right; he's just ridiculously naive," said Sirius. "He forces himself to 'see the best in people,' even if they're built up of pure wickedness from head to toe." He took a swig of pumpkin juice and wiped residue from his beard.

Hermione turned her gaze to his godson. "So, Harry, you said you want to become a knight?"

"That's right."

"How long does that usually take?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "Depends on how long Lord Dumbledore takes to decide whether or not to submit you for training. I requested a squireship about half a month ago and haven't heard back yet."

"You'll get it," encouraged Sirius. "I've repeatedly told Lord Dumbledore how hard you're working and practicing by yourself. There's no other candidate who deserves it more than you do."

"But Sirius, I don't want to get in on your begging for me," Harry argued, "I want to earn this! This is my time to work my way to glory!"

"And a fine lot of glory you'll be in, shoveling shit all day," sneered a cold voice behind them. It was the boy from earlier, Draco Malfoy. He smirked. "In six months you'll be waiting on me hand and foot, spit-shining my armor and cleaning up after my horse." He leaned in closer, and Hermione saw the malicious gleam in his pale eyes. "And when I come back from a victorious battle, I'll make you lick the blood off of my sword."

Sirius bolted to his feet, sending his chair flying as he rounded ferociously on Malfoy. "Hold your tongue, you wretched little bastard cur, or I'll have you cleaning my horse's stall with it!"

Another voice, this one smooth and deep, cut in as a heavy, pale hand landed on Malfoy's shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make the boy wince. "Draco, didn't your mother tell you not to stir up any trouble while you are here?" It was Snape, and he fixed Malfoy with a hard, glittering dark stare. "Run along now and go play knight and dragon with your fellow stablehands." He practically shoved Draco away and his gaze shifted to Harry, who met his eyes bravely—almost insolently. "And you, Potter..." he said softly, "didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to stare?" He paused. "Oh, that's right...she wasn't alive to do it. What a pity."

Harry flushed red and opened his mouth, but Sirius stepped up to Snape, his hands curling into fists. "I'll tell you the same thing I just told the snot-nosed Malfoy runt," he snarled. "Stay away from my godson or else."

One elegant black eyebrow arched sharply and Snape sneered, looking like a taller, darker, much more intimidating version of Malfoy. "So you say, Black. But we all know that your bark is worse than your bite. Try anything and we'll see who comes out in one piece."

Sirius looked prepared to throw a blow, but Snape merely tossed his sleek black head and swept out of the Great Hall. "Great greasy bastard," Harry's godfather uttered, watching the door slam.

Suddenly Hermione felt her hunger vanish like ash in the wind, and she coughed softly and put her plate aside. "Well, thank you both for letting me join you. I think I'm going to go do a bit more exploring, if you don't mind," she excused herself politely.

"Oh, sure. You look like a clever sort; try checking out the library," suggested Harry.

Hermione perked up. "Library?"

"Just down the main corridor, second door to the left."

No sooner had he finished the sentence than the girl was gone in a flurry of satin. Harry turned back to his plate, looking at his godfather with a slightly baffled expression. Sirius shrugged and continued eating.

Meanwhile, Hermione was already in the massive library, staring up in awe at the windows circling the domed ceiling and the towering rows of bookshelves lying in wait for her. There was everything she had ever wanted and more—tomes, novels, scriptures, epics, history documents, instruction manuals, recipe books. Ever since she was tiny Hermione had learned and loved to read, but the materials were scarce in her hometown. Here, though, she could easily rekindle and foster that passion. Giggling happily, she dove headfirst into the dense maze of shelves and began skimming and pulling.

Half an hour later she was seated on the carpeted floor surrounded by a huge pile of books with a fat manual propped open in her lap. She was so engrossed in her newfound love that she never noticed the pair of shoes that wandered into her plane of view. A mild clearing of the throat managed to snag and surface her, and she looked up with a startled gasp.

The lanky boy with flaming ginger hair and freckles grinned down at her. "Hi there, 'Mione. Fancy seeing you here."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, scrambling up and wrapping her childhood friend in a tight hug. "How are you? How is your family? What are you doing here?"

"Oi, one question at a time!" Ron chuckled. "I'm fine, and so are Mum and Dad, Fred and George and Ginny. Last we heard, Charlie was in Scandinavia, so we reckon he's safe. Percy is too smart to stick around a place like this, so he's alright too. We came through here on our way to a little coastal town, but Mum and Dad are debating on asking Lord Dumbledore if we can stay."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Hermione gushed. "I hope he says yes. It's so good to see you again; I felt simply awful when I realized I hadn't said goodbye."

"Eh, Mum and Dad were too busy worrying about your safety to be offended," said Ron. "They don't like Snape much, you know, worry he's still got a foot in with You-Know-Who."

Hermione huffed and folded her arms. "You can tell your Mum and Dad not to be dramatic. I was with the whole Order, not just Snape. And he was fine, mind you. A bit cranky, perhaps, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Ron shrugged, then looked up hopefully. "Say, have you met Lord Dumbledore yet?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

The ginger-haired boy's eyes went wide—"You have? Really? What's he like?"

"Kind...but a bit dotty," Hermione decided. "I'll introduce you at dinner if you like."

Ron looked like he might faint for joy. "Oh, just wait 'til Fred and George get a load of this! They'll go green with envy!"

"I met one of the knights' godson too," mentioned Hermione. "His name's Harry, he's quite nice. I think you'd get along well."

Ron grinned. "Any relative of an Order knight is a friend of mine!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, you numbskull, help me get these books sorted out and back on the shelves. Then we can have a look around the castle together."

In all her years, Hermione had never seen Ron Weasley move so fast. He practically threw the books back—all twenty-three of them—and dragged a startled Hermione out the library door to continue their adventure.