Disclaimer: Not Mine

Hermione's Son

Chapter 15

After Hermione returned home, she received a message from Hugh. He upbraided her for not taking better care of Raven, which she found rather cheeky, although true. She sent back a long letter admitting to him that she had sought medical treatment, alluding to the fact that it was from her recurring muscle spasms and apologising for leaving a bird of prey to find its own food. Thinking it strange that he had used their private owl and not one kept in the owlery at Hogwarts, she questioned him on it, not surprised when her letter went unanswered, only making her wonder which girl he was sending owls to at his age.

She had twice met with Harry. Once at St. Mungo's, needing the controlled environment it offered. She had told him her story, her voice even and firm as Healer Clough looked on. Harry had only paced and nodded his understanding, looking to Clough for confirmation of the truth in it. Once Hermione had finished, Potter had left, saying he had to return to work, leaving Hermione alone, uncertain and confused.

The second meeting was for lunch in a public venue. Hermione realized her mistake at once. She had thought this a safer, albeit less personal, place to talk, but sitting in a Muggle London café she also realized it prohibited exactly the type of exchange he, and perhaps she, needed. They began to part with a tension between them that was threatening to pull them apart again, until, without thinking, she instinctively flung her arms around his neck and promised to see him soon. She had felt his arms weakly encircle her, then tighten and hug her firmly. With his promise to keep in touch, and get together soon, she had watched him stride away with hope that their third meeting would go much better.

As the weather turned colder and she finished reading Mr. Mueller's journals, searching the internet as she double-checked his dates, and revising her outline, she found the silence of Spinner's End becoming more and more stifling. Deciding that it was time to get on with more than just life within these four walls and her daily run, she spun out to Hogsmeade for the first time not setting an itinerary that included every stop she would make. It was cold, almost winter, she reasoned, and not too early to start preparing for her second holiday at Spinner's End.

She purchased chewable quills and a new teapot that had the Hogwarts emblem, red leather journals with her initials and the first pair of dragon-hide boots she had ever worn. Making her way to Dervish & Banges, she pulled open the door, smiling to hear the familiar sound of the bell and smelling the musty air.

"My, my, Hermione Granger!" Mrs Banges rushed to her and grasped Hermione's hand in both of hers. "I had the privilege of meeting your brother. I was so hoping that you would stop in. It has been much too long since I've seen you. Much, much too long. I must say, you have grown into a beautiful woman."

"How could I not come? A trip to Hogsmeade isn't complete without a visit. You know this is one of my favourite shops."

"What can I do for you my dear? I know you didn't stop in to visit an old lady."

"I planned on doing just that! However, I am shopping for the hols early this year. Do you have anything you think my brother may enjoy?"

"You are most assuredly in the right place," Mrs. Banges said as she waved Hermione to follow her. "That brother of yours has been in at least a dozen times. All he ever looks at is this confounded mirror."

"What does it do?"

"It's one of a pair. One for the purchaser and the other for whomever they want to talk with. Marvellous, truly marvellous it is. You can see each other at any time you wish."

Hermione lifted her eyebrow and picked up the mirror, smirking at Mrs. Banges. "I am sure he would like it. What worries me is whose bedchamber the other one would be sitting it."

"Is he one that writes home often?"

"Not that often," she laughed, laying the mirror down. "No, I am sure the receiver would not even know of the charm."

"My, my." Mrs Banges clicked her tongue and waggled her finger in Hermione's face. "I will have to tell him it is age restricted. I normally do not do that until they reach their fourth year."

"Does he seem interested in anything else? Other than girls that is."

"Not much of proper interest to a boy of his age, I am afraid…no wait. Here…over here. It is rather dear, one hundred galleons, however it can save that in parchment in no time for a young boy."

"A pot of ink?" Hermione raised her eyebrow, picked up the ink and held it up to the light. "This had better be good…writes in platinum does it?"

"Special ink…self refilling pot. There is more…" Mrs. Banges pulled a piece of parchment from her pocket and picked up a quill. Making a splatter of ink across the parchment, she then tapped the quill to the droplets and they instantly disappeared. "It is spelled. Therefore, even during the summer at home it is not considered underage magic."

"I wish I'd had this," Hermione admitted, smiling thinking of all the times she had thrown out a smeared piece of parchment only to rewrite the entire page. "I'll take it. That is if the spell for refilling is also everlasting."

"Yes, yes…he can bequeath it to his children it lasts so long. There is more. I hear the spell has been impossible to copy….one of a kind in that. Once he gets his parchment back, and no longer needs it, say …a returned lesson…if he draws an X from corner to corner it will erase everything, giving him a fresh piece of parchment."

"I imagine I need a special quill as well," Hermione said, realizing the ruse.

"A fair price. Two hundred and fifty galleons." Mrs Banges smiled sweetly as she took a quill from under the counter, and laid it on a piece of black velvet on the top of the glass display. "Self sharpening and lasts a lifetime as well."

"It better last three lifetimes," she muttered. It was an extravagant gift. One she kept looking at. Picking it up and feeling its weight she thought it would be a shame to have the boy leave it behind in the library only to be lost. "It seems more suited to a man's hand." Her eyes lingered on the long, slender and perfectly balanced writing instrument.

"Shall I wrap it?"

Hermione gazed at the quill again before setting it down, seeing it as Severus' long fingers would fit to it, and nodded her head. "Not for my brother of course…but you won't tell him it was I that bought it? Not that he would ask…just…he needn't know I was here."

"Certainly my dear." Mrs Banges smiled widely and waved her to the next display case. "I have a very nice wizard's watch. A small one it is, suited for a boy and not expensive at all."

"I was hoping for something to keep him busy. A watch is more something for his graduation I would imagine."

"A wonderful Quidditch…"

"No, we live in a Muggle area," Hermione sighed. "That's the hard part. Whatever I buy there isn't good here, and everything here he can't use at home."

"I have one thing…now where did I put that? Yes...come this way. Do be careful of the plants…they bite you know. Don't know what I was thinking when I put them in stock. Not one has sold."

"I'm not familiar with them," Hermione said, stopping to examine one of the plants. "What did you say they were?"

"I didn't." She picked up a feather duster and gave it a smack. "There, that will keep them down for a while. I'm not sure if it is the feathers or the hit they dislike but one is included with every purchase. The Muggles have a plant they incorrectly call Snap Dragons. This is from the original stock."

"A Snap Dragon?" Hermione laughed when she read the marker that had been stuck into the pot. "It says Snap with an e…Snape Dragon."

"The old spelling perhaps?"

"A prank is more…you know," Hermione paused and looked up grinning. "Will you have the lot delivered to the Headmaster? It would be a shame to let this pass."

"Shall I send the feather dusters?"

"No…let's just keep that our secret."

"As you wish. There are a total of ten," Mrs Banges bit her fingernail as she studied the plants.

"You just said you have not sold any and the cost of food alone must be a bother…three galleons each."

"Five."

"Two,' Hermione said firmly, watching as the smallest plant began to nibble on Mrs. Banges sleeve.

"Fine, fine…three it is. Now, come see what I have for that brother or yours. It is a rather old make. However, it plays Muggle if not charmed to change to our world…a simple charm. The instructions are on the bottom. I do believe a Dippit first owned it. Married a Muggle you know. Two centuries ago…I am sure of it. Lost it in a wager at which time I managed to buy it. A very good price."

"A chess set? He may like that. I could charm it for him…underage magic you know."

"Watch," Mrs Banges moved the pieces to show Hermione how they reacted. It was a lot like what she remembered from her own youth only here the Knight had a rakish grin and the King let out a whistle as the queen suggestively swayed her hips as she sauntered to the next square. Hermione couldn't help but laugh when the queen looked over her shoulder, giving the king a look of utter disgust.

"I love it."Hermione laughed, clapping her hands together.

"It is the Bishop that sets things right. He chastises the pawns if they get too fresh with her. Only two hundred galleons and cheap at the …"

"Cheap? I just overpaid for the inkpot only to find I needed a quill that had better come with a gold nib and a Muggle grammar check," Hermione sputtered.

"For you my dear…one fifty."

"For me not a Knut over one hundred and I'll have them gift wrapped and delivered."

"For you, one…"

"Careful or he gets that set of used luggage I have my eye on."

"One hundred. Will there be anything else?"

"There shouldn't be these," Hermione grumbled pulling out a bag of galleons, then shoved them back in her pocket and affixed her signature to the bill. Proud and smug that she could finally spend her stipend money without feeling guilty. "Do you still sell those stuffed dragons? You used to have a toy section and carried one that blew out smoke and a cold flame."

"I keep them in the back until the holiday shopping season."

"I want two, different colours. Boy colours, no pink," she grinned and looked up. "Do you have Mr. Potter's home address? Does he still stop in?"

"Well, my yes. These are for his boys?"

"Yes. I will trust you to deliver them the day before Christmas?"

The last thing she wanted to do was to have tea at the Three Broomsticks and stop in the stationary shop where she had spent so much time. Walking down the pavement, she darted into the robe shop, leaving her old jeans, tee and trainers in a bin as she stepped back outside, with new robes and pair of heels so high she felt she had just grown several inches. Seeing several students and realized she had stumbled onto Hogsmeade day and that although Hugh would still be too young to join in the trip, she turned her head to the window displays as she passed them, wanting to go unnoticed.

The stationary shop was as she remembered. Tall shelves stocked with parchment and quills, the smell of leather hung in the air, defused light filtered through tinted windows. She stopped to browse the rack of seals, finding one with a lion encircled by the letter G. As she was choosing a wax that would be dark enough to show off its fine detail, she heard laughter she recognised as Amanda Brown. Peaking over the top of the shelf, she was not surprised to see Severus with her.

Feeling disappointed and stupid for caring what he did, she grabbed the wax stick closest to her hand and made her way to the counter. Digging out two galleons, for what used to cost only one, she was again annoyed at prices.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" She turned feigning surprise. "Headmaster, so nice to see you."

"You've… cut your hair."

"Yes, I thought a change was in order," she stammered, seeing him still staring at her head.

"It is…a change." He said flatly, dropping his eyes to her face.

"I won't keep you. It appears Professor Brown…"

"Yes, Professor Brown." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "She has the ability, with one word, to bring memories of an old student to mind."

"She looks nothing like Lavender. She was much more…"

"You do remember Miss Lovegood? Behind you by a year or two I believe."

Hermione let out a bark of laughter, then turned her head to hide the flush she could feel crawling up her neck. "Sorry. So it is not her mind that you are attached to I see."

"In spite of the…obvious… challenges of working with her, she is an excellent teacher. In that, I offer no apologies. However, your constant inference that I am in any way…" he started, only to be cut off by a loud screech.

"Miss Granger…Hermione!" Amanda squealed as she rushed over to them and wrapped her arm around Severus'. "You brother is such a little student. He's adorable and so...so...so adorable."

"He is a student and yes, as a second year shorter than most. How astute of you." Hermione grinned. "Amanda, I need to talk to the Headmaster about him. Would you give us a moment please?"

"Whatever are you…Severus?" Hermione looked up alarmed as he grabbed her arm and hurried her to the door.

"This is the only opportunity I have for a quiet lunch," he said, pulling her out to the pavement, a look of relief spreading over his face. "The Three Broomsticks?"

Alter securing a table and ordering, they passed the time discussing the changes to Hogsmeade. He, explaining the changes, as he had on their trip to Diagon, she interested in any change of ownership. Soon the conversation turned to Hogwarts and the repairs that had been necessitated as well as the new lessons and their attempt to include subject usable in both worlds.

"Is this Cummings you spoke of the DADA instructor?" Hermione asked. "He may be helpful in finding what hex brought down the south wall…it was the north that took the worse of the giants if I remember correctly."

"Charms. I am afraid I am having difficulty keeping staff. I have lost DADA as well. He is leaving after this term, and no…he is most…unhelpful."

"That's normal. Whenever there is a change of control, some people can't adjust . I saw it in the Muggle world all the time."

"What brings you to Hogsmeade? More than shopping?"

"Shopping, also a test of sorts. By the way, I am still upset at you for poking your nose in where it doesn't belong. Your rather large nose I must add." She laughed as he became interested in stirring his tea. "I do appreciate your concern. I misread your intentions concerning my research and for that, I sincerely apologise. I'll have to fix you dinner sometime to make up for it."

"You owe me nothing," he said flatly, looking up from under his brows. "That needs to be clear."

"Yes, Mr. Can-not-accept-an-apology. Anyway, Clough said I should do things I used to like and what I liked was coming to Hogsmeade. I will admit that I am enjoying the day. I've spent a ton of money and even had my hair and nails done for the occasion. The only thing that I have trouble with…you'll appreciate this I am sure…I am to stop making useless lists. This he tells me after insisting I keep one."

"That alone should make your stay worth while," he said, a small chuckle in his throat. "You are the only student that listed what she was not including in an essay in the footnotes of each page to impress me with her vast eleven –year- old knowledge."

"Shut up Snape," she said laughing. "Clough also said I hate loosing control and that my lists give me that. I guess it's true in a sense. Even the footnotes made you aware of what else I knew. I don't think anyone else would understand that but you."

"Potter said he spoke to you," Severus said quietly.

"Harry? Yes…the last day at St. Mungo's and once since. It went rather well. I am pleased by that. When did you see him?"

"I approached him about the possibility of taking DADA next term." He frowned at her look of surprise. "Yes, it has come to that."

"That bad? Oh, Severus, truly I am sorry,' she said, trying to hide her laughter. "I am sure you will fill the slot. Have you posted an advert?"

"I had hoped that you could take one of the Muggle topics. I had planned to contact you over the hols."

"No, I have my hands full right now. Oh, by the way, I thought of Neville on the way here. Do give him my regards and tell him…tell him I hope to see him soon. Hugh said something about the Ministry granting Minerva private quarters at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, it was her only condition on her retirement. She refuses to leave. It does have its advantages. However, the students still run to her for help and advice, which is not in her best interests. She is ageing poorly as of late, I am sad to say. "

"It has been her home for longer than either one of us has been alive. I don't imagine she has any place else she feels as comfortable."

"You have not heard me to completion concerning the position."

"No. Severus. I think I have found my future in historical research. There is so much out there that I am finding we misunderstand, or not so clear facts. I find it fascinating. I will say my choices are much greater now. No more lapses, no more depression, no feeling tired all the time or angering over some trivial nonsense. Every day is better than the last. Listen, not to change the subject…which we sorely need to do…what I wanted to ask you...and I will understand if you can not manage it, we…Hugh and I …we both…you are invited for the hols."

"Hermione?"

"What? Just the hols. Well, I also do need to talk to you more…privately. Part of Clough's idea that I talk to all my friends. That's you."

"Have you visited the Burrow?"

"No, not yet. Perhaps this summer. " She looked at him quizzically.

"Have you reapplied to St. Mungo's or sought any other avenue to assimilate yourself back into either this world or the one you hid it?

"What are you getting at? I just told you what I want to do," she asked frowning.

"A very solitary type of work."

"Yes…and?"

"I thank you for the invitation for the hols. However, I must decline. I will gladly meet you at a more…public place if you care to have a discussion."

"Fine," she lowered her head and pushed her food around on her plate. "If your plans change, you are always welcomed."

"Hermione, look at me." He waited until she lifted her head and saw him studying her face. "You need to keep going forward, and that does not include keeping your misplaced loyalty to me. As much as I would like to take advantage of your hospitality, I think I will pass. You are free to pick up your life as you chose fit, which I strongly suggest you do."

"I have no misplaced loyalty. Is that what you were asking? Have I visited the Burrow? What in the name of Circe does that have to do with anything? I invited you to tea, not to my bed."

"I am no longer satisfied with that." He leaned back in his chair keeping his face emotionless, watching the look of surprise that transformed hers and brought more colour to her cheeks. "You need to rekindle your earlier friendships and look to your own age group for companionship. I am sure in your conversation with Potter he echoed the same concerns."

"I see. Who would that be? You are aware of the friends I kept. How many still live locally or are not dead? Harry and Ron? Those two? One dead, one married to a girl I thought I knew but wants nothing to do with me. Those two? No, I forgot about Lavender and the other prissy little things like her. Perhaps we could all go for a cuppa and compare wardrobes. Now that is something to build a life on."

"Forgive me. However, I am sure that you realize it is only a mater of time, now that you are sufficiently confident in yourself, to pick up your life again. You no longer need me and I, my dear, do not have time to tend to you."

"Stop it," she spat, standing up and picking up her robes from the back of the chair. "You must forgive me for hurrying off. If I don't leave now I am sure to say something I shouldn't and have to start a new list. Don't ask, Clough thinks it's a good idea." She stopped and looked at him, seeing his smug face and his smirk and the irritating habit he had of picking imaginary lint from his sleeve. "Fuck it," she hissed, rested her hands on the table and leaned over it, putting her face within inches of his. "I'll say it anyway. I've been told holding in my anger is bad for me. Now you listen to me.

First. Things will never be the way they were. I will never be invited to The Burrow. I will never feel at home with Harry and Ginny. I don't want to be. Why does every one think going back to what I was would be good for me? If it means loosing what it took me years to get, I don't want to. I like my life. I like having a son, and taking care of him. I like it just fine. And if he is the only one in this whole fucking world that ever loves me back that's just fine too. And he does. And while I'm at it, I bloody hell don't need you.

Second. I'll stay stuck in that dump at Spinner's End as long as I can. I'll work on my book, then the next and the next after that. I'll grow old living with Hugh, and keep inviting you for tea and hoping that you will come for the hols. Perhaps I'll adopt so many cats people will think I am odd for good reason. I'll put in a garden I don't take care of. Then, just to irritate the neighbours, I'll let the vegetables rot on the ground. I'll leave it to attract rats for the owls, of which I'll raise so many they shite on the pavement and keep everyone up all night with their noise.

So just, stop it. Stop acting as if you know what I want. It feels like a real home when you are there. I enjoy your company and won't apologise for saying it. Bugger off, Snape. Run to your little not my witch and just bugger off. We eat at five. Decide what you are doing about it but don't tell me you're not coming because I have to move on. If you don't want to come, then don't. But, get off your high horse and stop thinking you know what's best all the time. Because you don't."

Severus sat in stunned silence and watched as she walked out and slammed the door behind her. Later, he would plan what to say to her. He would put together a speech in which he would tell her she had acted childish, had created a scene, and had once again misunderstood what he had said. But now, as he stared at the door, all he could think of how she had looked when she stormed out and wondered what had happened.

"Scared off another one, did ya?" Rosmerta muttered, sliding their afters on the table. "Don't sit there like a Hippogriffs arse. How long has it been since you've been invited for the hols because of your bright sunny face?"

"She was not speaking of the holidays," he muttered, his eyes wandering back to the door not knowing if he was correct, still trying to ferret out what he had said wrong.

"More the reason to go after her. No? Fine, have your pride keep you warm. I hear there's a cold snap on the way." She sighed heavily and picked up Hermione's empty service. "I talk from experience boy. How long you been coming in here? Haven't missed a day since you were a first year, I haven't. Not one bloody day." Her eyes travelled to the door where he still looked, then with a loud sigh she turned back to him."Now you get off your duff and get out there before you are down here looking for a take-a-way on Christmas because if you do, I swear to Merlin, I'm not feeding you."

After he managed to leave, with as much decorum as he could muster, and close the door softly behind him, he all but ran to the Apparation point, arriving just in time to see her spin away.

~o0o~

She put up a Christmas tree three weeks early and spent long afternoons baking cookies and stringing candy into ropes, wanting an old fashioned tree, something Hugh and never seen. Three days before he was due home, she went to the Ministry, where she once again secured a port key, and found Dr. Mueller as she had left him, pushing himself along the gallery talking to students, pointing at unique brush strokes and explaining the history of the piece they were looking at.

"My, my, twice a beautiful young woman comes to see me," he said, reaching up to cup her face in both hands. "Your hair is gone. I believe it was a good choice as I may now gaze upon your radiant face."

"And you sir, are an outrageous flirt." She laughed as she pushed him toward a bench that sat against the wall. "Here, for Christmas. I wanted to say thank you for all the help you have given me." She handed him a brightly wrapped package and waited until he opened it.

Spreading the red and grey lap robe over his knees, he smiled up at her. "Lovely my dear. Just lovely." He reached out and cupped her cheek, his eyes glistening with the hint of tears.

"None of that." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, feeling a lump in her throat.

"It has been a long time since…" He stopped as if lost in thought. "I am sorry, my dear. An old man's memory at this time of the year returns to better days."

"How do you explain your paintings to your students? Aren't they ever curious?" She nodded to the students that were making sketches of the paintings, needing to change the topic.

"Ah, the horrors of war, the artistic licence. All the nonsense they want to hear and might be still young enough to believe."

"I wanted to bring your books back and ask if I may also see the original. Although my work is far from finished, I also want to show you what I wrote on your family. I hoped you would make notes or make any corrections to the rough draft. Remember…it's not complete. It may not be for years. But I promise you, I promise I won't stop. I will tell your story…even if it turns out to be just one chapter about you. It needs…you deserve to have it told."

"Yes, yes…put it in the chair pocket…yes…behind me. Now, tell me how your research is going. Surely, there is more. A monster does not stop."

"I'm at a wall. Frankly, you are the only eyewitness that I've found from that period of his life. I really don't have any more ideas. I even went so far as to run ads in papers and magazine in areas he was known to be in. Not one response. I have searched museums, court records, and University records, everything I could find. Nothing. Not in hospital records, military, banking…all gone I'm afraid. I have used other names he was known by, his mother's maiden name, even played with his place of birth, names of his old neighbours, everything I could think of. Nothing."

"After your last visit I have thought of those times and tried to recall anything that may help you on your quest. Alas, I have not. It was, you understand, dangerous to be in the public. My mother hid us well from outside eyes. I do not even know the names of people whose houses she cleaned. I am sorry my dear. By the time I woke up in the hospital…all was gone."

"I didn't expect much. You were just a child."

"I have tried to remember the name of the one he spoke to as well," he said, looking up to his first painting of Riddle with a loud sigh.

"The …what?"

"No, no my dear. Nothing that would help you find what you look for. I have thought long about it and I do not believe I ever heard a name…or even heard him speak. I would have remembered that, not a name perhaps, but each voice is distinct…separate from another. Tones vary even with others in the same family. Accents and…as the light is to a scene such is the voice to the speaker. It is said that…"

"Wait, where did this man come from? There was absolutely nothing in your journals about a second person."

"My mother thought they were brothers." He leaned forward and whispered, glancing down the gallery as if not wanting his mother to overhear. "I saw them talk. By the river, they greeted one another with a handshake. A handshake for brothers? It seemed odd at the time. Formal, as if they had newly met."

"You are sure? He never spoke of this…stranger?" Hermione asked, glancing over his shoulder, seeing Riddle's eyes on her. "Where was this? Could it have been where his brother or the man that she thought was his brother worked? Where by the river? Was there a…mill, or an office near? When…before your…before anything truly horrific occurred?"

"Yes, before we truly knew him. And the river you asked…No, no…it was in the open. A parkway used to run the course of the water, a place to go in the heat of the summer. I assumed he was foreign as was the monster, perhaps because he knew the monster. Impeccable he was, as were they both…truly impeccable when such things were difficult. He wore new clothes. A thing we saw only in Americans at that time. However…strangely off. The colours you understand. The colours…old and not right for the modern world."

"Dr. Mueller, there was nothing in your journals about this."

"Because it meant nothing, nothing about the monster that lived in my home. He night time forays lasted only moments…then he was back."

"Dr. Mueller, what I didn't see in the journal was how he was able to ingratiate himself into your mother's life. She was older. At that time there was a certain stigma put on woman that saw younger men."

Hermione fought to keep her voice even although she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. A stranger by the river, he had said. A stranger that dressed oddly and in colours not right for the modern world. The same thing she had seen when wizards ventured out to the Muggle world for the first time and tried to blend in. Her mind immediately went to Grindelwald as her mind reeled with the implications.

Grindelwald would have been in the last year of his reign. A reign, if she remembered her history correctly, had kept him in the magical world since leaving England. Leaving England when fashion was much different, colours different in hues and dyes. Dumbledore by this time had left England and announced himself to be with the wizards of the continent, eventually meeting in the famous duel that had put an end the terror. Hermione wondered if in the last days, had Grindelwald sought the one wizard who he thought wielded enough power to be helpful in his final battle. And if he did…at what cost.

"Ah yes…" Dr. Mueller leaned back his head and looked up at the ceiling. "It was such a long time ago. I believed he was introduced to her by a common friend or perhaps she met him at one of the villas she worked at. He was finely dressed you see…as finely as those that my mother worked for. I heard of him long before I met him. Let me try to remember…no…I can not say for sure who introduced them. I will put more thought to it."

"Does the name Quirrell, Quirinus Quirrell mean anything? Perhaps a Gellert…a Gellert Grindelwald…however he could have used Gilbert or anything close to that. Or…perhaps was he of the upper class? A Lord…perhaps he was referred to as …Barron or another title?"

"Quirrell? No, not at the moment. And Gellert …no…no…not at all. However, I have several notebooks that I will gladly review. Odd names…odd indeed. Are they British as well?"

"Yes, but I think they met much later. The other books are they…"

"No…no, quite different things all together. You take up a couple of page yourself you know. My journal of beautiful visitors," he said, chuckling. "I write what I see. Mostly light, I capture the light in words, how it plays with one's perceptions, early sketches and things more suited to these marble halls. Your part will now be updated as I can draw your neck and how it looks rather than what I imagined it to be under that mane of hair you wore on your last visit. Most comely you are."

"I see. A bit of voyeurism?" She laughed and patted his hand seeing his wink. "What confused me…and I just need a clarification… you said Munich, you had left Dresden and came here. However, you spoke of the Nuremburg trails that were a year earlier …and elsewhere, perhaps I misunderstood. Where were you living at the time?"

"Acch…no, no my dear. We lived in Nuremburg at the time. For the work, you understand. My mother went there hoping to find work in the world that was left to us. With so many foreigners, there was work to be had there. The trials I heard them speak of were at Nurmengard. The Nurmengard trials he said. That I remember well. I could not find where they were being held, the name not on any map I have seen, and therefore as a child I took my…concerns… to where we lived."

"You were aware of Nurmengard?" she whispered, leaning forward on the bench again feeling her own heart quicken.

"I heard them speaking of it. How he hated the division of forces. How he hated each side taking control…"

"Wait, no…that was the Nuremburg trials, the Americans, French and Russians…."

"Yes…yes like that. Exactly like that. He spoke of other divisions. Divisions of family and blood. No Americans I must say, although I heard him speak of the new ways…and the new ways would have been American in those days. The Germans had their part…I am sure of it…Nurmengard is most decidedly Germanic. I am afraid this is something else I need to refresh my mind on. It should have been in the journals."

"It was…I…I read the names of the cities wrong….I …Where did you hear this?" Hermione was aware that her voice was beginning to sound hurried and harsh and made a concerted effort to go slowly, calming herself as well as him. With one hand, she put pressure to her left temple and fought to stay alert, feeling for the first time since leaving St. Mungo's an unexplained fear wash over her.

"I would lie still. I heard things….late at night when they thought we slept."

"From him? Nothing since?" Her closed her eyes and swallowed, wanting to shake him and hurry his slow rambling.

"No, not that….no I am sure of it."

"You thought of something, just now what were you about to say?" She leaned forward and hissed, having seen a flicker of some emotion behind his eyes."

"This man, the man, by the river…yes…a young man, older than the monster but younger than he was…I just remembered him clearly."

"What does that mean? Younger than he was?" She leaned closer watching his fight for clarity. A fight that she saw in the clouding of his eyes and the way he shook his head to clear his memory. The same fight she had seen in her parents' eyes in the moments after the memory charm.

"An impression that with him not was all as it seemed It was the day after I saw them speak…yes, I had quiet forgotten that, they met again. Twice I saw him. I had forgotten it completely. "

"Could you sketch his face for me? Nothing fancy, just a …face."

"I shall send it to you. Yes, I will do it tonight. I can see him clearly now. Not the dark shadow I had thought." He reached out and took her hand, holding it in both of his. "My dear, dear, friend. Do not upset yourself. It was long ago."

"How can you say that? How can you…" She looked into his eyes, then up to the painting and didn't see Voldemort's eyes following her, just a painting. A painting, that now seemed flat and lifeless. "Thank you. I have to go." She jumped up and started to run down the gallery and then ran back and squatted down in front on him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, you crazy old man. You have no idea…none….how much. This is exactly what I needed. I'll explain next time I see you. Just keep those journals handy, because if I'm right, if I'm right I'm going to need every one of them and more from that wonderful head of yours."

"I'll find my old diary" he yelled after her laughing at her excitement.