Author's Note: Continued thanks for everyone who reviewed and favourited and followed. It really keeps me writing despite the flames I've gotten now and then.

Hermione Granger had had fantasies growing up about what life at Hogwarts would be like. She imagined that even in Gryffindor she would quickly make friends with her dorm-mates and every day would be stuffing her head with new and interesting magic. That...didn't really happen. When she smiled at the three girls in her dorm, and said "I'm Hermione Granger, it's nice to meet you," They looked at her like she had grown another head and then introduced themselves as if they were pulling teeth. She had thought it was just the first night, being in the new castle, with classes the next day, but as she got ready the next morning and heard them whispering about her hair, she realised that she wasn't really going to be able to make friends any easier at Hogwarts than she had at primary school.

That feeling had proven to be true, as classes went by and she kept trying to be friendly and talk about this and that, to no luck. It was depressing and she threw herself even harder into her books. In Astronomy on Wednesday, though, she sat between Fay Dunbar and Neville, and pretended to lean over Neville's star chart, hoping Aurora wouldn't notice how alone she was. She had a feeling her godmother wasn't fooled, and left as quick as she could, making sure that she wouldn't be asked to stay behind.

She didn't understand why she was having so much trouble. Within two days everyone had knotted into little groups of friends and she was left, trailing after people, desperately trying to fit in. At dinner she caught herself staring across the hall longingly at the Slytherin table. They were in the same school, but she missed Draco. She missed quick, biting remarks and banter and even listening to him prattle on about Quidditch. If she had been in Slytherin he would have never laughed at her raised hands in class or pushed her in eagerness to get out of class. She shook these thoughts away as soon as they happened, or tried to, anyway. She had her mission...but she had no idea how to make friends. So she tried to place herself by The-Boy-Who-Lived whenever she could, even though he was always glued to the vulgar Weasley boy. (Honestly, his language, at eleven!)

And then...it was Friday. And Potions.

Hermione Granger had been looking forward to this class since the time her letter had arrived. She settled into her seat at the front of the class excitedly, desperately wanting to get a closer look at her father. In class she could watch him and no one would suspect anything. She was, after all, an attentive student. The room was cool and filled with interesting things, but she nearly stopped breathing when he billowed into the room like a shadow given form. She studied him, heart racing, praying she could make him like her. The war had taken him from her, and she wanted him back. She wanted all those things the girls in muggle primary had talked about when they were trying to hurt her for having a single mum.

He picked Harry out immediately, and Hermione found herself wishing he would just look next to the boy. She was right here, and he wouldn't even look. She knew he probably shouldn't, for the same reason she wasn't allowed to sit with Draco. She had to be the muggleborn, but would a glance be so bad?

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," He said, and Hermione had to fight a smile at the way he spoke of potions, much like her mother did. Despite herself, she slid forward to the edge of her seat, his voice was soft and she didn't want to miss a word.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Hermione was enchanted by the way he spoke, and knew immediately what she had to do. She needed to prove she wasn't a dunderhead.

Severus Snape knew instantly he was right in his first potions' lesson. The girl. Hermione, looked at him the way Cressida sometimes did, as if she were seeking approval and affection all at once. The muggleborn fiction was just that - a fiction. Given where she had been Sorted, undeniably the entire mission had been to plant a child in the Order's good graces, his child.

He ignored the feelings this caused and focused on Lily's son. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Potter was taken by surprise, as Severus had expected. "I don't know, sir." He replied.

His daughter knew, though. Her hand had shot into the air as quick as anything. Severus ignored her hand and sneered at Potter instead. "Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir." Potter said again.

Hermione's arm was stretched as high as it could possibly go without her bottom leaving the seat. She had that Cressida expression on her face again, and he could practically hear her thinking 'Look at me! Look at me!' She was actually beginning to quiver in exertion, and he saw in sharp relief the two women: Lily, unknowing and uncaring and Cressida fighting for scraps of his attention. It made his gut twist as though he had a bezoar stuck in it.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Severus asked. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Potter shook his head and looked sideways at Hermione, who was now out of her seat and on her tiptoes, as if she thought Severus couldn't see her. "I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Students laughed, and Severus looked over at Hermione and raised an eyebrow, nodding towards her, just slightly.

Hermione let out a breath of relief. "Please, sir." She said quickly. "Powdered root of asphodel added to an infusion of wormwood creates the base for a sleeping draught so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death, made even more famous in William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. A bezoar is a stonelike concretion formed in the stomach of some animals, especially ruminants. The most valuable bezoars come from the Anatolian or Bezoar Ibex. The term comes from the Persian pād-zahr, which literally means 'antidote,' and bezoars will counteract most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, aconitum, or aconite, which according to Ovid sprung up from saliva of the three-headed-dog that guarded the gates of Hades." She spoke quickly, as though she was afraid he would dismiss her if she couldn't answer quickly and completely.

Severus would have been startled if he had not known her mother and grandfather, or even himself. He would have not been entirely surprised to prick her and find wit-sharpening potion or blood-replenisher in her veins instead of blood. As it was, he merely sneered at Potter instead. "At least Gryffindor has someone capable of opening a book. A point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter." He turned a look on the rest of the class. "What are the rest of you waiting for? Copy that down!"

Severus did not go to dinner that night, too busy thinking about the discovery he had made, even though he had been preparing to hear the news since Hermione Granger had arrived at Hogwarts. He was prowling the dungeons when he heard hushed voices, when everyone should have been at dinner. It was only when he got closer that he recognised his godson's voice.

"You're drawing too much attention to yourself, knowing everything in class. Like in Potions today. You can't do that Hermione! You're supposed to be a muggleborn Gryffindor, not a Potions prodigy. What were you thinking?"

Hermione's voice, confident in his class, answered, wavering slightly. "I don't know. It's just...it's Potions. I love Potions. I just...wanted..."

Draco was silent for a moment, and much less harsh or petulant when he spoke again. "Are you okay, Mine?"

"Fine." Hermione said, clearing her throat. "It's just...harder than I thought. Everyone hates me. The girls in my dorm are all vapid chits who only want to talk about boys and clothes and making fun of my hair, and the boys are all blowing themselves up or just generally being useless, and I'm not allowed to talk to you because you're supposed to hate me."

Severus felt his heart go out to the girl, despite himself. She was in the wrong House and suffering for it. She had no one she could talk to on an intellectual level and her supposed blood-status was an impediment in communicating with the one friend she obviously had.

Draco's answer was cautious. "You could hex me. It'd impress them." And then, quietly, as if it was an afterthought: "I like your hair."

"I'm not hexing you." Hermione said, annoyed at the suggestion. "You're my one friend here." She sniffed. "Besides, I'm not cross with you."

Severus had heard enough and took a step out of the shadows and towards the pair. "Wandering the castle when you're supposed to be at dinner? Hardly behaviour befitting. Malfoy, get to your Common Room. Miss Granger, a point from Gryffindor and detention with me tomorrow after dinner, get back to Gryffindor!"

The two students exchanged a worried glance and went in their separate directions as ordered.

Severus Snape was not a man who ventured forth from Hogwarts often, but this was not a normal night, and with that in mind, he ignored protocol, threw a handful of Floo powder and called out "Malfoy Manor!"

The parlour appeared and glanced at the empty room in irritation. "Lucius, Narcissa?"

It took a few moments, but soon the door opened and Narcissa Malfoy slid easily into the parlour. "Severus!" She said in something akin to surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"Rather." Severus agreed. "May I come through?"

"Of course!" Narcissa said easily, even though she knew what this was undoubtedly about. Without asking she turned to Lucius's bar and poured him a glass of firewhiskey, handing him the magically chilled glass as he stepped through the emerald green flames.

"Thank you." Severus said despite himself, taking a sip of the burning liquid that scorched his throat.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive." Narcissa admitted, pouring herself a glass of wine. "I knew it wouldn't take too long."

"She looks like her." Severus said, almost dully, without inflection. "When I saw her at the Sorting I thought the Fates were trying to taunt me."

"She does." Narcissa agreed. "It's a bit frightening actually, especially with how much Draco looks like his father."

Severus's nose scrunched up at that, it was an image he didn't want or need. "Why?"

Narcissa sighed. "Because you love Lily." She said with a shake of her head.

"I would have…" Severus started.

"Married her because she was pregnant?" Narcissa interrupted, perhaps a little cruelly. "Or because Lily was already married, so Cressida was a solid, reasonable second choice, if you couldn't have the girl you wanted?" Her voice softened slightly. "She didn't want you to marry her only because she was pregnant. She didn't want to trap you...and she didn't want a loveless marriage."

"I love her!" Severus said sharply, dropping his glass in surprise as he realised the words that came out of his mouth.

"Do you?" Narcissa asked with an aristocratically arched eyebrow. "You never told her you did. I should know, Aurora and I are the ones who have to hear her talk about it. Poor thing's adrift right now. She's been focused on Hermione ever since she left, and now Hermione isn't at home and she's left by herself. I spent the last three evenings with her. She doesn't know what to do with herself."

"Hermione…" Severus said, trying to distance himself from the thought of Cressida and his own admission that he honestly had no idea if he really felt or just...said in the heat of the moment, in response to basically being called some sort of rake. "Does she know who I am? To her, I mean."

Narcissa laughed at that. "Does Hermione Séverine Granger know who you are?"

Severus's eyes went wide. Many wizards and witches named their children with a parent's' name as a middle name - he was Severus Tobias Snape, and he knew Draco's middle name was Lucius, just as Lucius's middle name was Abraxas, but he would have never dreamed that Cressida would have given her daughter his name as a middle name. "Séverine?" He repeated, a bit hoarsely.

"Séverine." Narcissa confirmed, slightly amused by the look on his face.

"I want to see Cressida." Severus said, in a moment of decision. "I know she's hidden somewhere in the muggle world, passing off our daughter as a muggleborn - that was the mission, wasn't it? Pushing a Death Eater child into Gryffindor as a muggleborn so that the Order would trust her when the Dark Lord returns."

"It was." Narcissa admitted easily. He had already figured it out, after all. There was no use in denying it. "After the prophecy, though, it changed to add to befriend the enemy of the Dark Lord." She finished her wine and sighed. "Give me a few days, and I'll see what I can do."

She leaned back into her plush chair amused. "Do you know whether Draco and Hermione have set up a dead drop yet?"

"Dead drop?" Severus repeated with a chuckle. "I think not. I caught them talking when they were supposed to be at dinner, why do you ask?"

Narcissa laughed at that. "Ages ago they had me set up a spell that allowed Hermione to drop a message in a tree hollow at her home with a password, and the paper would appear in the vase of one of the statues in the gardens here if the password was given, or vice versa. They then put their heads together and have been refining it ever since. Now the passwords are one-use only and in loose association with one another, usually in ways only they understand."

Severus shook his head. "They should, it's safer." He admitted. Narcissa nodded in agreement, and feeling slightly better with another promise extracted to try and allow him to see Cressida, he left, feeling slightly better.