Knit Me Together

by QueenOfTheDreamers87

"Darkness is not dark for you, and light shines as the day." Some are dead, and some are gone, and some are left behind, scrambling for sense in the darkness. Severus' and Hermione's stories resume amid the bleak altered realities created in "In The Shadow Of Your Wings." This is Book Two of the Psalmody series.

7. Chapter 7

Hermione dashed quickly down the Serpentine Corridor on the third floor, her feet pattering on the stones. She was running late for her second Thursday lesson, which happened to be Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was only the second Defense lesson of the term, and already Hermione was late. It wasn't as though Hermione had intended on being late to Percy Weasley's class. She'd gotten caught up in a discussion with Professor Vector in the Advanced Arithmancy classroom and had lost track of time. Professor Vector had offered a note, but Hermione had declined and had decided to run. It had seemed unwise to go about with notes and excuses, seeing as how she was Severus' wife. She would simply have to be thirty seconds late and apologize profusely.

Only, she wasn't thirty seconds late, because she wasn't running fast enough. As she passed a large grandfather clock in the Serpentine Corridor, she saw that she was six minutes late. Hermione let out a low groan of worry and paused for ten seconds outside of classroom 3C, trying desperately to catch her breath. She recognized that it was useless and instead smoothed her hair a bit and cleared her throat. She flung the door open and dashed quickly inside, and every single face turned round to face her with looks of great judgment.

Hermione lowered her face and made her way silently to a desk. She had a terrible flashback of when, during her sixth year, she'd been late for Severus' lesson in this classroom. As she laid out her NEWT-level textbook, her quill and parchments, and her wand upon her desk, her cheeks burned with humiliation. The classroom had gone silent, and Percy Weasley stood up at the chalkboard with a bit of chalk clutched in his hand.

"Madam Granger," he tutted sharply, and Hermione looked up at him. Two lessons in, and even the seventh-year students had realized to be deferential to Percy Weasley. He'd been a Prefect during all their first years, and even then he'd perpetually had a stick up his bum. Now he had actual, tangible authority over them, and the power to grant them NEWTs or not. So the other students had arrived on time… wisely. Hermione felt her cheeks burn hotter than ever as Percy quirked a red eyebrow up at her, and she gulped.

"I'm v-very sorry, Professor Weasley," she stammered, the title feeling awkward in her mouth since she had so long called him 'Percy.' She knew he was no more accustomed to calling her 'Madam Granger.' This was all very strange, she thought. She shut her eyes for a moment and tried to recalibrate herself. "I'm afraid I was caught up in discussion with Professor Vector about a project for -"

"Right. Fifteen points from Gryffindor, and do not let it happen again." Percy Weasley frowned and turned back to the chalkboard. Hermione's mouth fell open in angry shock, and she felt the burning glare of Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor who had returned to Hogwarts after missing the previous year. Hermione scowled and shrugged helplessly, looking back up to the board to see Percy scratching out,

To what degree are portraits sentient? How does this play into Dark Magic? He turned round and twirled his chalk in his fingers and began to pace as he said tightly,

"The first enchanted portraits were created in the eleventh century. It is known that portraits are created by specialized magical artists who mimic the subject's demeanor and use favorite phrases, behaviors, and the like in the creation of the portrait. The portraits are limited in what they can say and do. The paintings know little, if anything, of their subjects' lives, with one notable group exception…"

"The Hogwarts headmasters," Hermione blurted. She quickly clapped her hand over her mouth, feeling enraged with herself for her lack of control. Stupid, childish wench, she scolded herself. Percy Weasley glared at her and said sharply,

"Madam Granger, if you wish to speak, do raise your hand."

"Of course. I apologize, Professor Weasley." Hermione nodded, and Ginny Weasley turned over her shoulder as if to say, 'If I can control myself around Percy, you should be able to.'

"The notable group of exceptions are the Hogwarts headmasters' portraits," Percy Weasley continued, as though he had never been interrupted. He kept pacing, and he said, "Unlike ordinary portraits, these are directly taught how to speak and act like their subjects. However, they still don't know much about their subjects' lives, and -"

"That's isn't true, Professor Weasley," Hermione burst out. She shut her eyes at once and swore under her breath. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. She opened her eyes and said gently, "It's just… Professor Dumbledore's portrait knows a great bit about his life, sir."

There were a few scattered titterings about the room then, as the seventh-year students reacted to the showdown between the Headmaster's Wife and the newly-minted professor who had been a hated prefect in his day. Percy Weasley's cheeks had gone beet red with anger and humiliation, and he gripped the chalk so tightly in his right hand that Hermione was sure it would snap. Hermione chewed her bottom lip and waited for him to take more points from Gryffindor. But then he said quietly,

"Detention, Madam Granger. The next three Saturdays in a row. And fifteen more points from Gryffindor. I understand you've returned to school this year to obtain your NEWTs. If you desire one in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I advise you learn to control yourself."

The classroom was silent and the air heavy then. Hermione shook where she sat, and her eyes burned. But she nodded numbly and whispered, "All right, then."

---

As it turned out, Severus had been unable to convince Horace Slughorn to stay at school for another term. Ultimately, Severus could scarcely blame the man. Horace had taught at Hogwarts for nearly sixty years before retiring. He'd only been pulled back into the fray by Dumbledore as a ploy to learn more about Voldemort's horcruxes. After the drama of Dumbledore's death, the Carrows' flawed administration, and Voldemort's downfall, it seemed Slughorn had had enough. He wanted to go to his home for a few quiet years, he asserted. Severus had discussed the teaching position with a few viable candidates, but no one was available or willing on such short notice.

So here he was, moving about in the Potions classroom in the dungeons. He would be dividing his time between Headmaster's duties and teaching Potions. Minerva McGonagall would help a great deal as Deputy Headmistress, of course, and that was just as well. The students liked her much better, anyway.

He had first-year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff coming in a half hour. Today would be the first Potions lesson in the students' lifetimes. Severus traditionally loathed first-years at the start of term. They melted metalware, exploded ingredients, and cried like babies when things didn't go as planned. He always kept a liberal supply of Essence of Dittany and a stack of handkerchiefs on his desk. And he knew to wear a domineering sneer upon his face to establish the tone.

He glided over to the supply jars and pulled the lid off the glass container of porcupine quills. He used tongs and counted out forty quills onto a tray, which he carried back to his desk. He would be meting out ingredients for the first-years' premiere foray into brewing. They could scarcely be trusted with valuable ingredients. Severus made his way back to the ingredients and began to pull out enough pickled Shrake spines for the class. Behind him, he heard the classroom door fly open, and he rolled his eyes as he said sharply,

"The lesson does not begin for nearly a half hour. You may return then."

"Detentions, Severus. Three detentions! The nerve of him!"

Severus furrowed his brow and turned round to see Hermione, red-faced and flustered, as she slammed the classroom door shut behind her. He sighed and finished pulling Shrake spines out of the jar. He calculated what time it was, and where Hermione had just been, and he murmured,

"Percy Weasley gave you detentions? What on Earth did you do?"

She huffed and stomped across the stone floor, pulling up next to him at the supply jars and opening the bag of snake fangs. She scooped out a heap onto a wooden tray and carried it over to Severus' desk. He realized she'd taken inventory of the ingredients he was assembling, and she probably knew that all first-year his Potions classes began with the Cure for Boils. He felt a strange stirring for her until he remembered she was here to complain about detentions, and he cleared his throat quietly. She whirled round at his desk and crossed her arms over her chest. She pouted as she leaned back upon his desk, and her eyes glistened with tears.

"I was late to the lesson. Only, I was late because I discussing a project with Professor Vector, and I didn't want to take an excuse note from her because I didn't want anything to look like favoritism. Well, so much for that. He took fifteen points away from Gryffindor for it."

She scuffed her foot upon the stone floor, and Severus tried not to look amused. He stepped a bit closer and licked his lips. "And then he gave you three detentions?"

"No," Hermione spat bitterly. "The detentions came because I corrected him. He was wrong, Severus. He was lecturing about the sentience of portraits, and he gave incorrect information. I corrected him, and -"

"Did you raise your hand? Or wait until the lesson was over and discuss it with him in private?" Severus cocked an eyebrow at Hermione, and her cheeks darkened. She shook her head and said in a defensive tone,

"No. I admit I blurted it out, but he was giving incorrect information to the entire class!"

Severus sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. "He's a brand-new teacher. You undermined his authority. Worse still, you're my wife. He was right to give you detentions if you interrupted him to correct him."

Hermione looked infuriated. Her bottom lip trembled and she shook her head. "How dare you," she seethed, and Severus actually gave a dark chuckle. That only made things worse; her chestnut eyes went wide with rage, and her arms tightened across her chest. Severus shifted on his feet and tried to keep his face serious.

"Hermione, you must understand that for a teacher - especially a new teacher - to be so blatantly disrespected by a student is unacceptable. I would give any student detentions for talking out of turn in such a way. Certainly I would have done so early in my teaching career. And you have spoken out in my classes more than once, young lady. It is annoying."

He reached for her tie then, for it was crooked and had gone loose from the way her arms were crossed and yanking at her uniform. He started to straighten the maroon-and-gold tie, but that only seemed to make her more angry than ever. She batted his hand away roughly and growled,

"So I'm meant to serve three detentions with Percy Weasley?"

"With Professor Weasley, yes." Severus was quite grave in his tone now. He took her wrist in his hand, the one that had swatted him away, and he held her tightly. He met her glittering eyes and hissed, "Are you a student at this school or aren't you, Madam Granger? You must decide exactly what your role is here. You said it yourself; there can be no favoritism. You disrespected a teacher. Now you'll serve detentions. Do you understand?"

"Oh, yes. I understand, Headmaster. Please, don't let me keep you from your preparations for your first-years. I'm very sorry, sir." Hermione wrenched her wrist from Severus' hand and wriggled her way out from his desk.

---

"So, Hermione… what about your parents?" Ginny Weasley sipped at her warm cup of cider and chewed upon a bit of shortbread. Hermione sighed and glanced about the Gryffindor Common Room. It was late enough that most everyone had gone to bed. She and Ginny had worked on homework together, and then had sat talking for the past two hours. It was nearly midnight. The conversation had long since drifted away from school to more personal matters. Hermione gulped.

"Severus says he'll try to find them for me," Hermione said, licking her bottom lip. "But I don't know whether they'll ever truly know me again. Authentically restoring memories is no easy task. It can go terribly wrong. If they're happy in their new lives, it may well be more merciful to leave them that way. It would be selfish of me to… well, the last thing I want is for them to wind up like Gilderoy Lockhart, you understand."

She sipped her cider and fought off the burn in her eyes. Ginny seemed to understand she shouldn't press the matter any further, and she nodded as she shut her Charms textbook. She set down her shortbread and said,

"I got an owl from Harry today. He says he'll be starting Stealth and Tracking straight away. He's looking forward to it. They have him staying in his own flat in London and everything."

Hermione gave Ginny a little smile. "I'll bet you miss him," she acknowledged, and Ginny nodded.

"I do, and I will," she said, dragging her thumb around the rim of her mug. "He's going to come to Hogsmeade the first weekend that we go. So we'll meet up there for half a day or so. And I shall see him at Christmas. But… it isn't the same as all the adventures we had last year, is it?"

"No. I don't suppose anything shall ever be the same as all the adventures we had last year," Hermione acknowledged. They sat in silence for a moment then, for Demelza Robins and Popilia Macduff were heading up to the Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory. Ginny neglected to scold the girls for breaking curfew, for they were only ten minutes past. Hermione thought that was wise of Ginny; it was much smarter of her to avoid building a reputation as an unlikable Head Girl.

"Percy's a right git for giving you detentions," Ginny said, once the other girls had gone. Hermione felt her stomach clench at the thought of the disciplinary incident. She hadn't thought too much about it all since earlier that day, when she'd argued with Severus about it. Indeed, that was why she was still in the Gryffindor Common Room - she was avoiding Severus. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed at Ginny.

"Please, let's not discuss it. Anyway, it's late. I should get downstairs, or I'm liable to be given more detentions from my own husband. Oh, stop it, Ginny. It isn't funny!"

Ginny was still giggling under her breath as Hermione made her way out of the portrait hole. The walk down to the dungeons felt interminable. Hermione pondered the fact that she would be turning nineteen years old in a few weeks, and what that meant. She felt at once like a child and an old woman. She was caught between being subjected to discipline and living the lifestyle of a full-blown adult. She had witnessed and done more traumatic things than most other did in a lifetime, and her husband was very nearly middle-aged. But on Saturday she would be serving the first of three detentions for talking out of turn in lessons. It was all very incongruous, and Hermione was not sure what exactly to make of it.

She stormed through Severus' office in the dungeons and cast aside the wards on their private chambers. She was rather surprised, given the hour, to hear the shower running in the bathroom to her left when she walked into the chambers. She sighed and began yanking off her school uniform, hanging it up one piece at a time in her wardrobe and casting cleansing spells as she went. Her tie and stockings and belt went on one hanger; her white shirt and pleated skirt went beside them. Her black-and-maroon Gryffindor robe got its own heavy hanger, and then she yanked the ties from her hair and shook it loose. She stood before the wardrobe in her bra and knickers, reaching in a basket for some pyjamas, when she heard Severus' smooth voice beside her.

"I had wondered if you were going to have a slumber party in Gryffindor Tower, or whether you were going to come back down here. I must say I'm delighted to see you decided on the latter."

Hermione jumped, startled by the way he'd snuck up on her. She scowled up at him and tried to ignore how attractive he was, his black hair hanging in wet tendrils in his face and his bare chest gleaming. She frowned and said,

"It's late. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Severus nodded and pulled the towel from his waist, casually drying his hair as he strode toward his own wardrobe. Hermione tried not to ogle his dangling manhood and the way his backside moved when he walked. She averted her eyes while he pulled on grey flannel trousers, and she ignored the rush of moisture between her own legs. She cleared her throat roughly and yanked a plain nightgown over her head.

Once they were settled into their warm bed, Severus lay upon his back and said quietly, "Bathsheda Babbling is exceptionally pleased that you and Miss Lovegood have elected to pursue NEWTs in Ancient Runes. She hasn't taught the course at that level in four years, you know."

"Yes, not since Percy Weasley, if I'm not mistaken," Hermione scowled. She rolled over, away from Severus, and sniffed tightly. He groaned and said,

"You're cross with me. It's obvious."

"Yes, I am," Hermione nodded, still not looking at him. She felt his hand upon her shoulder, and she flinched at his touch. He pulled his fingers away from her and said in a much sharper tone,

"You're being childish about all this."

Hermione felt a warm flash of anger, and she rolled over and glared at Severus through the darkness. "Childish?" she repeated, sitting up in the bed and pounding her fists on the mattress. "Perhaps if you don't want your teachers corrected in lessons, you ought to hire instructors who know the material!"

Severus pinched his lips and sat up, as well. His black eyes glinted in the dim light, and he reached out and clutched at Hermione's jaw. She tried to twist away from him, but he held her so tightly she worried she would have a bruise. He spoke through clenched teeth as he said,

"What exactly would you have me do?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Couldn't you just explain -"

"Explain what, exactly? 'Oh, Percy, please do excuse my little wife. Try not to take her outbursts personally. She hasn't been able to keep her mouth shut since she was eleven years old.'"

Hermione's hand flew up on instinct to slap Severus' cheek, for she was so filled with anger and offense at how he was handling all this that she'd utterly lost control of herself. He caught her wrist halfway to his face and squeezed so hard that Hermione yelped. Severus lowered Hermione's wrist between them and mashed it against his groin, and Hermione suddenly felt sick. She usually wanted him, but right now she was filled with animosity. So much displeasure was swirling back and forth through their bond that Hermione could no longer tell which anger was hers and which was Severus'. When he crushed her hand against his pyjama trousers, there was barely any erection whatsoever. But his breath came hard and fast through his nostrils, and his eyes gleamed.

"You can take your punishment with Percy Weasley," Severus whispered, "or you can take it with me."

"What?" Hermione croaked. She started to pull her hand away from him, but he yanked it back. She felt the first stirrings of hardness beneath the flannel, and she felt an odd mix of horror, arousal, and excitement. She throbbed between her legs and felt confused in her mind, and she panted a bit as she said, "What do you mean?"

Severus cocked an eyebrow and twitched beneath Hermione's palm. "Do you want to serve detentions with Percy Weasley?" he asked in a bored voice.

"No," Hermione admitted, her voice a scratching whisper. Severus quirked up a little smirk.

"Well," he said, "I am the Headmaster. I am perfectly capable of handling discipline myself. We can get your punishment over and done with tonight."

Hermione wanted to shriek at him that he should simply absolve her of any responsibility whatsoever. But she knew that they would never agree about whether she was right or wrong to interrupt Percy Weasley in lessons. And all of a sudden, it sounded rather alluring to be 'punished' by Severus. It seemed as though just maybe that would be a good resolution to all of this. So Hermione nodded once and murmured,

"All right, then."

Severus grunted quietly, and she felt him go even harder beneath her hand. His black eyes glinted again, and he whispered, "Take off your nightgown. Now."

She shivered at the sound of his voice, and she pulled her hand from him to yank off her clothes. She tossed the nightgown aside and started to pull her knickers down, but Severus stopped her.

"Leave those on," he commanded. Hermione knelt before him on the bed and felt another flush of moisture between her legs. Severus knifed his hand between Hermione's thighs and dragged his fingertips along the material of her knickers. Hermione bucked her hips against his fingers and reached out for his bare shoulders, trying to stay quiet as he teased the knickers.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he said in a hiss. "It's almost as though you want to be punished, Hermione."

She shook her head firmly, struggling to remember how angry she'd been with him all day. Severus' left hand drifted around her torso, squeezing her breast and toying with her nipple. His mouth latched on there, and he nibbled and bit her until it genuinely hurt. Hermione yelped in pain and buried her fingers in his still-damp hair in an attempt to wrench his face from her chest. Severus lathed his tongue over her tortured nipple and continued to pull his fingers back and forth around the sopping material of her knickers.

"Lie down across my lap," he commanded her quietly. "If you won't have detentions, then you will apologize properly."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush hot with anxious embarrassment. She balked for a moment at Severus' suggestion, until he gestured matter-of-factly to his lap. She felt a strange quiver of excitement as she arranged herself upon him. The night had turned from an argument into a thrilling intimate session between them rather quickly. But as soon as Hermione was settled across Severus' thighs, she realized that Severus was serious about punishing her.

Thwack!

"Agh!" she cried, for his hand had struck her backside so firmly that her eyes welled at once with tears. His palm soothed her skin now, but it barely helped the intense stinging. She tried to look over her shoulder, to glare at him, but he said firmly,

"Eyes ahead, Madam Granger."

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

He struck her thrice more, his swings growing more intense each time. By the third spank, he was grunting softly and she could feel his erection digging into her belly. Hermione felt tears streaming down her cheeks, for the pain on her backside was so intense that she could not stem the crying. Her fists balled around the duvet, and she choked out,

"Enough, Severus."

But there was a twinge of pleasure there, too, whether she wanted to admit it or not. As the stinging pain dissipated, it gave way to a dull sense of want throughout her body. She was soaking wet between her thighs, she knew, and Severus took the opportunity to remind her of this. His fingers shoved her knickers aside and fiddled with her clit and folds, yanking a loud cry from Hermione as she dangled over his thigh.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted her smoothly. Severus pushed two fingers, then three, into Hermione's quim and hooked them against her. She moaned loudly and grasped the duvet more tightly, and Severus panted above her. "This is not punishment for you, Hermione. You enjoy it."

Hermione could feel that she was moments from finishing around his fingers. If he kept touching her like this, she would be clenching around him in moments. Severus seemed to know this, too. He pulled his hand from her body and wiped his fingers on the blankets, saying in a firm voice,

"Lie still for a moment and tell me how you mean to respect your teachers."

Hermione growled in frustration. She tried to pull herself up off of Severus' lap, but he pushed hard against the small of her back and said,

"Tell me how you will behave in class, Madam Granger."

Hermione squirmed, trying to rub her clit against Severus' thigh. She could hardly see straight, for she was so intensely aroused. She swallowed and managed to croak out,

"I will raise my hand when I wish to speak. And… and if I'm not called upon, I shall simply hold my tongue."

"Mmm… good girl," Severus murmured. He yanked at the hem of Hermione's knickers and pulled them down over her thighs. He tossed the knickers aside and returned his fingers to Hermione's entrance, and she could not help but cry out at the feel of his touch.

"Come for me," he ordered her. "Come for me... right now."

She couldn't have disobeyed even if she'd wanted to. A mere moment later, she was clenching erratically around his sodden fingers as he groaned loudly above her. Her ears rang hot and blood rushed to her head as it dangled over Severus' thigh. Hermione was chanting his name, she knew distantly, but she was so lost in her climax that she was only vaguely aware of what was going on. She suddenly felt herself being arranged by Severus' strong grip, being put on her hands and knees. Then she felt him drive himself fully into her body in one mighty thrust, and she cried out desperately. She collapsed onto her elbows and moaned his name into the pillow beneath her.

Thwack!

He smacked her backside again, harder than ever, and Hermione's squeal in response was muffled by the pillow. Severus began to move within her, slowly at first and then faster as he grasped her hips tightly in his hands.

"Never… ever… put me between my wife and my staff again," he grunted. He gathered up all of Hermione's hair in his left hand and pulled her head back just enough so that her face was pulled off the pillow. He groaned quietly and said, "Do you understand me?"

"Yes. Yes. I understand. I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, feeling so aroused by the feel of his ministrations that she thought she might finish again. Suddenly Severus was hurtling himself into her, his hips bashing her buttocks over and over. Hermione grew dizzy and weak as she cried out his name, feeling the delicious rub of his length on her entrance as he pistoned himself roughly into her. He released her hair and squeezed her waist tightly, burrowing himself deeply inside of her and bellowing out like a beast. His hips stilled at last and Hermione felt his cock twitching within her as he came.

She panted and buried her face into the pillow, sobbing quietly as she tried to recover from her exhaustion. She was sore where he'd been grasping her hips so tightly. His seed oozed out of her body when he pulled away from her, and her backside still stung from how hard he'd struck her skin. Her scalp burned from where he'd pulled her hair. And there was the underlying sense of satisfaction, for he'd made her feel very good, too. Hermione's breath shook against the pillow as she whispered his name a few times, and she nearly fell asleep.

She felt Severus' fingers rubbing up and down her back carefully, then. He stroked her skin with a feather-light touch that made her shiver, and he murmured,

"Just be more careful, please… I dislike very much being made to treat you like a student, Hermione. You've chosen to come back for your NEWTs, and I respect that with all my heart. But, please… see what a predicament that is for me, won't you?"

She nodded silently against the pillow, and she felt his lips touch the back of her neck a few times. Then she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin as he whispered in her ear,

"Goodnight, little wife."

---

Severus walked briskly through the third floor corridor, relishing the way the sea of students parted reverently before him. Dennis Creevey, the Gryffindor whose elder brother Colin had been killed at Malfoy Manor, shrank down a bit and scurried off with a pack of several other lions. Several second-year Ravenclaws stopped their murmuring conversations and gave him a polite, "Good afternoon, Headmaster." Severus ignored them all. His black robes billowed out behind him as he strode through the cloisters that overlooked the courtyard below.

"Professor Snape?"

He only turned round and acknowledged the voice because he could tell at once that it belonged to Percy Weasley. When Severus turned, he saw the man's curly ginger hair, prematurely balding with specks of grey throughout, blowing in the cloister breeze. Percy Weasley looked very nervous as he approached, and Severus knew precisely why that was. He waited for the gaggles of students to pass them by, and he said quietly to Percy,

"If you're here about Madam Granger's detentions, you needn't worry."

Percy looked very relieved, and he nodded as his thin throat bobbed. "I hope you understand, Headmaster, that I could not let the disrespect go unacknowledged. Not in my first week of teaching. Even though I've known Hermione for years… perhaps especially because of that… and because of -"

"No, of course you couldn't let her get away with speaking to you like that," Severus sniffed. "Though, do ensure you know the material well enough in the future that she does not feel compelled to correct you. She is rather unpracticed at self-control when it comes to correcting misinformation."

Percy's cheeks colored, and he nodded firmly as he mumbled a swift apology. Severus glanced down into the courtyard below as he said,

"No need for the detentions, in any case. I assure you, Madam Granger has been more than adequately punished. The disrespect in your class will not happen again."

He turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Percy Weasley standing in open-mouthed shock in the corridor.

---

"Simplexiterum!" Hermione swirled her wand in front of the glass goblet before her and focused hard. The tip of her wand glowed pale violet, and the glass gave way at once. It dissolved into a million grains of sand, falling into a small puddle on the table.

"Oh, well done, Hermione!" Luna said in a proud tone. She patted Hermione's shoulder and pointed her own wand at the glass goblet before her. "Simplexiterum!"

Luna's goblet, too, dissolved into sand on command, and Luna smiled proudly. The two girls were practicing Transfiguration in an empty classroom. It was drizzling a chilly rain outside, but Ginny had insisted on holding Gryffindor Quidditch anyway. Luna and Hermione had cracked a window in the empty classroom to let in a bit of air, and the sound of the pattering rain outside was soothing. Luna looked at the list of spells they were meant to be practicing.

"Hmm," she droned absently. "I'm not so certain about this one. I confess I've never had much luck with it. Would you care to go first?"

Hermione looked at the list of Human Transfiguration spells and groaned. She had never been terribly skilled with Human Transfiguration; it had always been her weakest area of spellwork in the subject. She and Severus had been forced into a great deal of changing up their features in the past year or so, so Hermione was better at the skills than she used to be. But her confidence was still slagging. She pinched her lips and looked straight at Luna.

"Capillos Rubra… Obesaque! Dilatanda Nasum. Interdentes…"

One by one, the Transfiguration spells altered Luna's features until she had waist-length auburn hair, a face that was round and relatively plump, a wider nose, and teeth with spaces between them. It was not a very flattering look, and Hermione grimaced.

"Have you got a mirror?" Luna asked serenely, and Hermione hestitated.

"Erm… well, the spells worked, but… why don't you just let me undo them?" she said hurriedly. Luna laughed gently and shook her head. She swirled her wand about her left hand and Conjured a hand-held mirror, and she giggled when she saw her reflection.

"Oh, I think I'll stay this way for dinner," she mused, touching her fattened cheek. "It's always refreshing to try a new look for a change, don't you agree?"

Hermione frowned. "If you say so," she shrugged. Then, looking back at the list, she frowned. "Go ahead and choose one of the other Human Transfiguration sets to use on me, I suppose. I probably won't keep it for dinner, though, so promise me you won't have your feelings hurt!"

"Oh, no. I won't take offense," Luna promised. She studied the list and, looking indecisive, shut her eyes and jabbed the tip of her wand randomly at the name of a spell. Hermione was very anxious at that approach, and nearly protested aloud. But before she could get a word in, Luna pointed her wand at Hermione and exclaimed, "Iussosannis!"

Hermione felt her whole body quivering, felt her face contorting and squeezing oddly, and she suddenly knew she'd shrunk a few centimeters. Hermione panicked abruptly, her hands shaking as she reached for the mirror Luna had Conjured. She gasped when she looked at her reflection. It was not so drastic as what she'd done to Luna, but in many ways it was worse. Luna's spell had carried an anti-ageing effect, and Hermione looked to be perhaps twelve years old. She gasped in horror at her girlish face, her youthful features. She glanced down to see that her breasts had barely formed, that her thin figure was boyish and twiggy. She gulped heavily and reached for her wand.

"Finite Incantatem!" she exclaimed. Nothing happened.

"Oh. I think… I think that only works for Charms and such," Luna informed Hermione, sounding a bit worried in an uncharacteristic fashion. Hermione flashed Luna a glare, and Luna's pale eyes blinked. "I think we need an Untransfiguration spell. Like -"

"Oh, I'll do it, Luna. Thank you." Hermione held her hand up forcefully. She did not mean to be rude, but it had been Luna's magic that had turned her into a gormless little girl. She jabbed her wand at herself and said firmly, "Reparifarge."

Nothing happened. Hermione began to hyperventilate a bit as she stared at herself in the Conjured mirror. She rattled off all the counter-curses and Untransfiguration spells she knew. Nothing was working. Finally she looked up to see that Luna had silently returned her own appearance to normal and was pacing, apparently thinking hard.

"What on Earth have you done to me, Luna?" Hermione shrieked, losing her temper a bit. "I can't let Severus see me like this!"

"Well, I was trying to wipe the freckles from your nose. But, to be fair, Hermione, Professor Snape has seen you like this before." Luna gave Hermione a rather deliberate look. Hermione growled in anger and stomped her foot.

"He is my husband, Luna! He's not a pervert! He did not marry a child! I can't go to dinner looking twelve years old! Everyone would just love that, wouldn't they? Wouldn't everyone just love to have a good laugh at how the Headmaster's young wife looks even younger? Oh, this is just an unmitigated disaster. I can't believe…"

"I'm very, very sorry, Hermione." Luna's cheeks colored pink, and Hermione sighed as she tried to rein in her anger. Finally she shook her head and told Luna,

"Go up to the Headmaster's office. I think Severus is there. Bring him here. He'll know what to do. The password for the gargoyle is Le sang est du sang. If he gives you trouble about that, tell him it's an emergency and I told you the password. Le sang est du sang."

"Right." Luna nodded firmly once. "I'll bring him back straight away."

---

"Did she try Reparifarge?" Severus demanded as Luna Lovegood led him quickly through the corridors. He glared down at the blonde Ravenclaw, who looked very embarrassed about having botched her Human Transfiguration practice.

"She did, sir," Luna affirmed as they rounded the corner on the fourth floor. "It didn't work, I'm afraid."

Severus huffed and shook his head. He wracked his brain and tried to think of other Untransfiguration spells. He sincerely hoped this was not a matter that was going to require research in the library. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to look twelve years old for any substantial amount of time.

"For what it's worth, sir, before the accident, Hermione did an excellent job turning my hair red and putting spaces in my teeth. She's much better at feature Transfiguration than I am," Luna said. "And we both managed Glass to Sand."

Severus made a little noise of indignation. He couldn't care less whether the girls had changed glass back into sand. His wife had become a child and the spell couldn't be undone. Right now, that was all that mattered. Finally, Luna and Severus came to a door in the fourth floor corridor, and Luna started to open it. Severus cleared his throat and said firmly,

"Allow me to try to fix the situation here, Miss Lovegood. You go, if you please, to Professor McGonagall's office. Ask her whether she knows a fix for this specific situation. We'll be here if we still need help."

"All right, then, Headmaster." Luna Lovegood nodded and started to walk away. She turned over her shoulder, a look of regret on her pale face. "Will you please tell Hermione again that I'm very sorry? It's funny in a way, isn't it? A forty-year-old witch would love to look six or seven years younger… but not one Hermione's age. Time is a strange thing. I'll go ask for help from Professor McGonagall now."

For some reason, Severus was left rather shaken by Luna's observation. He tried to shed his unease, and he cleared his throat as he opened the door to the abandoned classroom. Inside was a short witch, practically drowning in her school robes. She was facing away from the door, and her bushy hair flew about her skull in a brown halo. Severus felt his heart racing in his chest. He did not want her to turn around. He knew what she'd looked like then - buck-toothed and wide-eyed and apple-cheeked. She had been a child, and there was nothing wrong with that at the time. Now she was his wife, and he had no desire to stand in the same room with her like that.

"Reparifarge… Finite Incantatem… Convertero! Fucking hell…"

"Language, Miss Granger."

She whirled around her shoulder, her chestnut eyes glistening with frustrated tears. Severus felt his smirk disappear when he saw her face. She looked the way she had done in her second or perhaps her third year. He shut his mouth and looked away from her, and he mumbled,

"Well, this is rather different than when I took the Minnuere Annis potion and made myself eighteen. At least then there was nothing disgusting about… well, in any case, we need to fix this immediately."

"What do you suppose I've been trying to do for the past twenty minutes?" Hermione demanded. Severus winced, for her voice was higher and tighter. More childlike. He held up his hand to silence her, and he shut his eyes. He thought hard through the list of Untransfiguration spells he knew, along with all the counter-curses. Finally he shook his head and thought aloud.

"An ageing potion is temporary. It won't undo the Transfiguration. In fact, there is no potion that will undo it. Perhaps rather than trying to undo the Transfiguration, we need to be proactive and age you again with more Transfiguration…"

"What if you turn me into a sixty-year-old woman?" Hermione nearly shrieked. Severus opened her eyes to see a look of abject horror on her little face. "I'd rather be twelve than sixty!"

"Would you?" Severus said seriously. He licked his bottom lip as Hermione looked irritated. "Hermione," he said as gently as he could manage, "You and I are bound through Magnum Verbum Honoris. It is more than a simple marriage vow. At any given point in time, my bond to you is deeply romantic. Every fiber of my soul is in love with you, you understand? And that's perfectly fine if you look of age. It is not fine if you look a child. We need to fix this. Now."

A look of understanding came over Hermione's face, and she nodded. When she did, her frizzy hair went flying and she murmured, "I'm sorry. We were just practicing, Severus -"

"Don't call me that, just now, will you?" Severus hissed, and Hermione looked hurt.

"What shall I call you?" she said, her face twisting oddly. "You're my husband."

Those words were awful to see coming from the girl Severus had known since she'd stepped off the first-year boats. He suddenly flashed back to the day she'd been Sorted, to how she'd happily leapt down from the platform in the Great Hall after the Sorting Hat had yelled out, 'Gryffindor!' He could see her face, just as it looked now, the Halloween she'd helped fight off a mountain troll. And he remembered her, looking even older than she did now, in her third year, when he'd held her back from Remus Lupin in his werewolf form. He felt a pit in his stomach as he realized the truth. He had known her then. She had been a child then. And he had been a grown man.

True, he had not loved her. Not then. He'd barely even noticed her. But there was something very, very wrong about standing here now, bound to her with Magnum Verbum Honoris, and seeing her look twelve. He searched his brain for any spell he could think of, and he rather impulsively jabbed his wand at her and said,

"Iussos Iuventum!"

It wasn't a real spell. It was something he'd made up just now, out of desperation. And it had been stupid, Severus knew, to point his wand at Hermione and center his magic and incant a made-up spell. Any manner of negative effects could have befallen her. Perhaps luckily, nothing at all happened. She stood there before him, young as ever, looking confused and heartbroken. Severus lowered his wand.

The door to the classroom creaked open then, and Severus turned to see Minerva McGonagall walking in with Luna Lovegood in tow. Minerva bore an expression of concern on her wrinkled face. Severus could not help but feel profound annoyance with the old witch, and he gestured toward Hermione as he said,

"So, Minerva, you've been assigning students spells to practice that are this difficult to undo?"

Minerva gave Severus a meaningful scowl, flicked her eyes to Luna and back, and said quietly, "When performed correctly, Severus, the spell is intended to be a freckle-erasing effect for Human Transfiguration. I'm afraid Miss Lovegood mispronounced the incantation."

Severus glared at Luna Lovegood, who looked embarrassed where she stood. She mouthed an apology to Hermione, and Severus returned his gaze to Minerva McGonagall.

"How do we fix it?" he demanded.

"Well…" Minerva shifted on her feet. "I'm not sure. If the normal Untransfiguration spells haven't worked..."

Severus suddenly felt a crash of rage go through him. "Forty points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lovegood. This is ludicrous."

"Severus, no! It was a mistake, for goodness' sake!" Hermione hissed from behind him. Severus whirled over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at her. She was giving him the same horrified expression she'd given him for years when he'd taken points from Weasley or Potter, and he couldn't look at her doing that. He turned quickly back to Minerva and said sharply,

"Are there books to consult on this matter?"

Minerva pinched her lips. "I'll begin researching it straight away, of course. In the meantime, it would probably be best to send Hermione up to Madam Pomfrey. I can take her there."

Severus nodded tightly and stared out the window, but Hermione scoffed from behind him.

"You're going to make me stay in the hospital wing?" she said with disbelief. "I'm not ill, Severus. Please. I can help find a solution to this… it's still me. I turn nineteen in a week."

Severus suddenly felt as though he were going to vomit. He shut his eyes and said quietly, "Go with Professor McGonagall, Hermione. Now."

---

Hermione sat cross-legged atop her hospital bed, turning pages in a thick tome called The Magic of Time and Aging. She flicked through a chapter about aging potions and spells and finally arrived at a page that read,

BACKWARDS AGING AND REDISCOVERING YOUTH.

It may sound like an unlikely dream scenario, but witches and wizards throughout the years have occasionally managed to permanently remove the effects of aging from themselves. This may not be achieved with a potion, for any anti-aging effects will be temporary. Likewise, most anti-aging Transfigurations and spells will wear off within twenty-four hours. There are recorded cases of witches who have permanently erased up to a decade from their appearances, but no one is quite sure how they managed to do it. As for these uniquely skilled witches, they refused to share their secrets.

Hermione huffed angrily and slammed the book shut. She put it on a stack of similarly useless texts from the library and crossed her arms over her chest. She was on her third day in the hospital wing. The other students had been told that she was ill with mumblemumps and was contagious. But the truth was that Hermione's nineteenth birthday was a few days away, and she still looked twelve years old.

Severus had only come to visit her once, and he'd only stayed for fifteen minutes. Hermione could hardly blame him. She fully understood his discomfort in seeing her this way, especially since their bond of Magnum Verbum Honoris was entirely romantic. Still, Hermione was beginning to believe that Severus would never want to lay eyes upon her again. He was revolted by being in the room with her, she knew, when she looked like a child. His mind was filled with memories of a lurid relationship between them. He felt wrong around her, and that broke Hermione's heart.

"Hermione, dear, I've brought you some dinner." Poppy Pomfrey came striding into the main space of the hospital wing, pushing along a little cart with plates and goblets upon it. Hermione gave Madam Pomfrey a grateful little smile and mumbled her thanks. Madam Pomfrey had a first-year student in a faraway bed who apparently had a head injury, so she quickly made her exit.

Hermione poked around at the shepherd's pie for a while but found she wasn't hungry. She eventually put her fork back down and picked up the book on time and age. She read a chapter on potions that were rumored to slow down aging, but of course that was no help at all. Hermione was just about to dissolve into tears for the second time that day when she heard Severus' stern voice at the entrance of the hospital wing.

"How did he hurt his head?" Severus was asking.

"Quidditch, of course," Madam Pomfrey answered. "I've said it for years, and I'll say it again. That game is too dangerous, Severus. Every blasted year, there are multiple serious injuries."

"He was playing… what? Hufflepuff Beater, is it?"

"Right. Took a Bludger straight to his skull. I've had to knock him out while his head heals up." Madam Pomfrey tutted. "He isn't ready to be on that team, Headmaster. He's just a little thing; look at him."

Hermione peered around the curtain surrounding her bed and saw Severus looming over the first-year boy's cot. He crossed his arms and shrugged. "How long will he miss classes?"

"Who can say? A week? Two?" Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "No more Quidditch when he wakes up. I'll tell you that much. I shall keep you apprised, Headmaster."

"Thank you." Severus nodded. Then he cleared his throat quietly and said, "If you'll grant me a bit of privacy, Poppy, I need to speak with Hermione."

Madam Pomfrey shifted on her feet and clasped her hands together, and she nodded. "Of course. Call for me if there's anything either of them need." She walked briskly from the hospital wing.

Hermione felt her heart thrumming in her chest as Severus came striding over toward her bed. Finally he rounded the curtain around her bed and sank into the chair beside her. Hermione smiled at him, though the smile did not reach her eyes. He did not smile back. She noticed at once that he looked profoundly tired. There were deep lines around his eyes and lips, and his gaze was sunken and dark. His skin was more sallow than usual, and his neck seemed less tight. His hair looked more dull, and she frowned as she swore there was more grey in there than she remembered.

"Severus, are you all right?" she asked, her voice tight with concern. "People in glass houses and all, but… you look awful."

Severus chuckled bitterly and said, "This is what you have to look forward to, I'm afraid. This is me seven from now." He curled the corners of his lips up in an unhappy smirk, and Hermione felt her mouth fall open as she realized what he meant.

"Oh…" she breathed, and she nodded frantically. "You've figured something out."

"I believe so." Severus nodded and pulled his wand from his frock coat.

She shouldn't be surprised, she knew, that he could invent a solution for a new problem. After all, he was the Half-Blood Prince whose old textbook had contained a dizzying array of workarounds and invented spells. He had been a genius young potioneer and spell innovator as a young man. Why would he not still be that way? Hermione watched as Severus pointed his black wand at her chest, and she shivered. He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to hers.

"I don't ever want to see you like this again," he said, and she tried to smile. But then she felt magic coursing out of his wand, and he said firmly, "Dabo Annum. Dabo Annum. Dabo Annum. Dabo Annum. Dabo Annum. Dabo Annum. Dabo Annum."

With every incantation of his spell, a thrum of magic pulsed through Hermione's veins. Gradually, she felt her bones and skin stretching and contorting. She hoped very intensely that each of his seven incantations gave her a year of appearance back, as he said. Finally, the vibrations and buzzing stilled, and Hermione stared at Severus with a question in her eyes. He lowered his gaze to his lap and cleared his throat.

"Much better," he mumbled.

"Is it?" Hermione reached anxiously for her wand and Conjured a mirror. She touched her cheekbones and her nose, glad to see that she looked more like a woman than a little girl. She nearly squealed with delight at the way her face was sharp and womanly again, the way her chest felt more full with grown-in breasts. She had never been so happy to be very-nearly-nineteen. She grinned widely and threw herself toward Severus, wrapping her arms around his neck and impulsively climbing onto him where he sat in the chair.

"Thank you. Thank you, you brilliant man," she said into his ear, kissing his cheek frantically. Severus pulled her away gently and stared at her face for a long while. He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip, and his black eyes bored into her brown ones for what felt like an eternity. Then at last he said tightly,

"Now. As for me… I think I shall be content to wait seven years to look this old. This is the result of experimentation to get the Untransfiguration spell right. I should prefer to not to look forty-five until I'm actually forty-five, if you please. Sit back, will you?"

She did, going back to her cross-legged position on the hospital bed. Severus turned his wand on himself and cleared his throat before he said quietly,

"Tollo Annum. Tollo Annum. Tollo Annum. Tollo Annum. Tollo Annum. Tollo Annum. Tollo Annum."

What happened to him then was the reverse of what had happened to Hermione. She watched as the lines and wrinkles on his face softened a bit. The number of greys in his hair decreased substantially, and the tiredness in his eyes lessened. It was astonishing, she thought, what a difference seven years made when it came and went so very quickly. In just a few moments, Severus looked the way she'd always known him. But then, Hermione thought, she'd actually known Severus since he'd been thirty-one years old. Surely he had looked much younger then. She couldn't exactly remember; when the years passed at a natural pace, aging felt natural, too.

That was the lesson in all of this, she realized. They'd only been alarmed by what had happened because of the joltingly large changes. Time was an odd thing, but humans were accustomed to moving through it in a linear and predictable fashion. During her third year, when she'd used a Time Turner, Hermione had become all too familiar with the disorienting effect that came when time wasn't constant and steadily forward-moving.

She sighed and took Severus' hands in hers. She squeezed his fingers and asked, "May I please sleep in our bed tonight, husband?"

"Yes, you may," he answered. "I hope you can understand why I could not possibly permit…"

He trailed off, but she knew what he meant. She smiled and nodded, and she said in a sly voice, "I think I'm most excited, honestly, to go back to lessons tomorrow."

"Yes, I suppose you probably are." Severus rolled his eyes at her. "Professor Babbling will be elated to see you in Ancient Runes in the morning, and Septima Vector's been sorely missing you in Advanced Arithmancy."

"And I'm very sure that Percy - that Professor Weasley - was devastated not to have me in lessons this afternoon," Hermione said snidely, and Severus shot her a warning glare.

"Let's go, then," he said, "and let Poppy attend to the first-year Hufflepuff who couldn't keep his skull away from a Bludger."

---

"You've got to be joking…" Ginny groaned beside Hermione. Up at the blackboard, Percy Weasley was scratching out,

Find an opposite-gendered duelling partner from another House. Nonverbal spells only - Focus on blocking and offensive strategies. Complete matches - best three of five.

Ginny sighed loudly again, looking at Hermione with annoyance. "As if we didn't get enough real-world experience with duelling at Malfoy Manor, eh?" she hissed, and Hermione tried not to snort. It was true; over the past twelve months, she and Ginny (along with Harry and Luna, and many others) had experienced more real-world duelling experience than Percy Weasley could ever hope to replicate in a classroom. Hermione glanced around and shrugged as she said,

"Breccan Burke didn't fight in the battle at Malfoy Manor. I don't suppose you'd have difficulty dueling him."

Ginny cast her eyes to the gangly Ravenclaw, the descendant of an old wizarding family, who sat with his nose buried in a book. He pushed a pair of thick-rimmed glasses up his face and dragged his thick blond curls back with spindly fingers. Ginny sighed.

"Right. Breccan Burke it is," she said solemnly. "And you?"

"Hmm." Hermione rose from her chair and walked over to a desk where Justin Finch-Fletchley sat talking to Hannah Abbot. "Pardon me, Justin," she said. "Would you mind duelling with me? It says 'opposite-gendered duelling partner from another House.'"

"Oh. Yeah, of course. That'll do, Hermione," Justin nodded. He smiled at Hannah and said, "See you."

Justin and Hermione made their way to the open stretch of classroom that Percy had set aside for duelling. Seventh and eighth year students had lined up along opposite walls and had begun bowing respectfully at one another. Suddenly, from the front of the classroom, Percy Weasley barked out,

"Remember to keep all spells Nonverbal! The element of surprise is enormously important in real-world duelling."

Hermione rolled her eyes a bit, remembering what Ginny had said. Few of them needed instruction on 'real world duelling.' Just the same, Hermione held her wand out toward Justin and thought carefully, Pellio!

Justin Finch-Fletchley, it seemed, was not an adept spell-blocker. The backs of his hands and his face instantly began to sprout thick patches of fur, and he looked rather beastly. Justin scowled but held his wand out toward Hermione. There was a minute movement at the tip of his wand when he cast his nonverbal spell, and Hermione slashed her own wand quickly and thought, Protego! Justin's spell hit an invisible shield before her and shattered into white sparks. Hermione instantly circled her wand and silently incanted, Ferilis!

Her spell socked Justin square in his chest, and he got an odd look on his face before dropping his wand to the floor with a clatter. He was still covered in hair, and so when he descended to his hands and knees and began crawling about like a cat, the effect was rather convincing. It was altogether alarming, though, when Justin went over to Luna Lovegood and began pawing at her robes in a most undignified fashion. Luna stopped duelling Dean Thomas and patted Justin's head.

"Hello, there, Justin," she said. "Looks like you've become an animal for the day, eh?"

"Oh, dear," Hermione muttered, and she ignored the uproarious laughter that had taken over the room as she pointed her wand at Justin and said, "Finite Incantatem."

Justin's thick coat of fur disappeared, and all of a sudden he seemed to realize that he was on all fours being petted by Luna Lovegood. He flew upward and backward, and all the while Luna gazed at him serenely. People kept laughing, and Justin snatched his wand off the ground and adjusted his Head Boy badge as his cheeks grew hot and red. He scowled at Hermione with a look of pure loathing, and Percy Weasley said half-heartedly,

"Right. Everyone back to your own pairings. Keep duelling."

"Sorry about that, Justin," Hermione said genuinely. "I should have chosen different spells, probably."

"Yeah, well… I'm sure you've learned how to duel really well from the Headmaster, eh?" Justin sneered. His face was ugly with embarrassment and jealousy, but all Hermione could do was gulp as her cheeks went hot. She raised her wand again, bowed, and prepared to duel once more. But before she could cast her first spell, Justin's hex hit her. It seemed he was filled with fire in the wake of his humiliation, for Hermione had no time to block his spell, nor even to process what had hit her.

She was unconscious a split second after she saw the blue flash of light.

---

"Honestly, Severus, I'm fine."

"Not yet, you aren't. Everyone in that classroom said that you flew backward into a pillar, landed on the ground with a crunch, and that your arm and leg were very evidently broken. You'll have to stay here until tomorrow, or until Poppy decides your bones and head are all right. You're no better than that bloody first-year Quidditch player," Severus scolded her. He glanced around the hospital wing and sighed heavily. He had not exactly been expecting for Hermione to land herself back in here just one day after being released.

"Did Madam Pomfrey use Ferula?" Hermione asked quietly, and Severus furrowed his brow at her.

"What?"

"To heal my broken bones. Did she use Ferula? The spell?"

"I would assume so. I had fifth-year Potions; I wasn't here yet," Severus admitted. "Why?"

Hermione got a strangely nostalgic look on her face, and she whispered, "Look into my head."

Severus frowned, confused, but he murmured, "Legilimens."

She was pushing a memory strongly forward. It was her sixth year, Severus could see, and he was teaching a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

"Mister Weasley," Severus snapped to Ron, "name a basic but effective spell for healing a broken bone."

Ronald Weasley stared blankly at Severus, and then he shrugged. "I dunno, sir," he admitted. One table over, Hermione's arm shot up and she made a little noise as she tried to get Severus' attention. He rolled his eyes and ignored her.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he droned to Draco.

"I'm sorry, sir?" Draco said, looking distracted.

"A healing spell for a broken bone, Mr. Malfoy." Severus pursed his lips in annoyance. Draco put the little book he was reading down. Severus clarified, "A spell that one might use if a bone had been broken and one had no access to a healing potion."

Draco jolted to attention and nodded. "Er… well, I suppose one might use 'episkey,'" he said quietly.

"That would suffice," Severus muttered. He turned and started pacing again, but Hermione was still waving her arm wildly. Draco's answer was positively imbecilic.

"Please, sir," she called out, unable to control herself. Severus whirled to shoot her an angry glare. In previous years, his enraged scowl would have silenced her and lowered her arm, but she persisted. "Episkey would work for something like a nasal fracture or a black eye, but for a broken bone, it would be grossly insufficient, would it not? I would recommend a spell such as Ferula, which would bandage and splint the broken bone. It also provides some pain relief. Even reparifors would likely be more effective than episkey, provided that the bone had been broken through magical means. But, in any case, I don't think episkey would be strong enough to fix anything but cartilage or tissue… certainly not a broken bone!"

She was silent then, as were the rest of the students, who stared from Hermione back up to Severus to see how he was going to react to her outburst. Severus pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Miss Granger, did I call upon you to speak?" Severus snarled at her. Hermione's eyes went wide with fear.

"No, sir," she squeaked. Severus' mouth twitched.

"No, Miss Granger. I did not ask for your opinion. I asked Mr. Weasley, and then Mr. Malfoy. If I would like to hear you speak, you shall be appropriately notified. Until then, be silent. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your obnoxious little tantrum."

Severus yanked himself from Hermione's mind and smirked at her. He knew why it was she'd shown him that memory, especially since she'd so recently gone through a nearly-identical disciplinary experience with Percy Weasley.

"Some things never change," Severus acknowledged. "Other things do. I hope very dearly, for example, that Percy Weasley does not think of you the way I did that day."

From the sounds of things, Hermione had gravely embarrassed the Head Boy, Justin Finch-Fletchley, by covering him in hair and making him behave like an animal during lessons. The boy had lashed out with an over-charged Stunning Spell. He'd been distraught to see how badly Hermione had been hurt. Severus had ensured that Percy Weasley had only taken ten points from Hufflepuff for the poorly-chosen spell, and the Head Boy had not received detentions. Hermione had rather brought this on herself, Severus reckoned.

He reached out and stroked Hermione's elbow, the one that had been broken. Poppy Pomfrey had healed it well with her Ferula spell, and Severus thought it was probably just fine at this point.

"I should think I'll be able to care for any pain you might have tonight with a bit of butterfly weed balm," Severus noted. Hermione shut her eyes against the feel of Severus' fingers on her skin and nodded intently.

"You were right, you know," he told her an hour later, as he rubbed the creamy ointment into her skin. "Ferula works far better than Episkey for matters such as this."

"Yes, well… I trust your judgment with spells," she smiled. He knew she was referencing the way he'd come up with a workaround to the age-defying fiasco. He raised his eyebrows and said,

"I could not allow you to spend your nineteenth birthday looking twelve. Oh. That reminds me. I've made plans for your birthday. Be prepared to go out past the Apparition Point. You and I are going to London."

"To London?" Hermione repeated, her eyebrows flying upward. She looked excited for a moment, but then her face went serious as she said, "That doesn't seem fair, Severus; no one else gets to leave except to go to Hogsmeade. Why should I -"

"Because you are my wife, and because it is your birthday," Severus said firmly. He finished rubbing the butterfly weed balm on her healing arm and cupped her jaw in his free hand. He feigned seriousness in his voice then as he said, "Have yourself primped and polished, Madam Granger, by six-thirty sharp. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Oh. All right, then," Hermione breathed. Severus touched his lips to hers and pulled back as he said,

"Until then, do try not to have any more disasters, will you?"

---

The morning of Hermione's birthday dawned grey and dreary. By eight o'clock, it had begun to rain. But Hermione's bright mood could not be dampened. At breakfast, Ginny flashed her a warm smile and sauntered over with a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Happy Birthday, 'Mione. Have you seen this?" Ginny thrust forth the Daily Prophet, and Hermione took it as she set down her apple. On the front page of the newspaper was a smiling, black-and-white photograph of herself.

The headline read, WIZARDING HEROINE CELEBRATES 19TH BIRTHDAY. The byline was from Arden Colporter, an journalist who had worked for the Prophetfor nearly seventy years. Hermione had met the old witch once or twice throughout the course of post-Voldemort interview junkets. She had seemed serious, capable, and kindly all at once, and Hermione had been impressed. The article Arden Colporter had penned to commemorate Hermione's birthday was no exception to her standards.

"It would all too easy to think of Hermione Granger as the good friend of the famous Harry Potter, or as the wife of esteemed Hogwarts Headmaster and Dark wizard slayer Severus Snape. But it is important to remember that Madam Granger has had the Order of Merlin, First Class bestowed upon her of her own right for acts of ferocious courage during the Second Wizarding War. Indeed, multiple reports state that without Hermione Granger, Lord Voldemort would never have been defeated at all. Harry Potter himself corroborates the crucial role Madam Granger played in the former Dark Lord's downfall.

'When Albus Dumbledore discovered the existence of Voldemort's horcruxes,' Mr Potter says, 'it was Hermione who effectively tracked them down. She destroyed them, one by one, very often with her own hand. Without her brains, her bravery, and her determination, I fear we would all be living under Voldemort's boot still.'

This reporter and the entire staff of the Daily Prophet would like to extend a most hearty happy birthday to Hermione Granger. We wish her a long life, one of peace in the wake of her grand accomplishments. We thank her for all she has done to help secure a prosperous and open future for all wizardkind.

Happy birthday, Madam Granger. May your life be full of joy."

Hermione swiped tears away from her eyes as she set the Daily Prophet down upon the Gryffindor dining table. "That was very kind of Ms. Colporter," she said at last. "And of Harry."

"You've earned every bit of that praise and more," Ginny said firmly. She sat opposite Hermione and took an apple from the bowl in the middle of the table. As Ginny tucked into her apple, Hermione glanced around the Great Hall and saw that many other students were reading the newspaper this morning. Several shot Hermione apologetic glances, as if to note that they hadn't been appreciative enough of Hermione's war efforts. She sighed lightly and turned back to Ginny.

"Severus is taking me to London for my birthday," she said, to pull her mind off the uncomfortable topic of glory. Ginny's ginger eyebrows flew up as she chewed her apple.

"London?" she repeated. She flicked her brown eyes up to the staff table and nodded, impressed. "What's he got planned, then?"

"No idea," Hermione said honestly. "He won't tell me anything. I don't even know what to wear."

"That lovely forest green wool frock you've got," Ginny told her, and Hermione nodded slowly. This was part of what she liked about Ginny; the girl had a no-nonsense, sensible, yet forward-thinking approach to life.

The rest of Hermione's day proceeded entirely without incident. Advanced Arithmancy and Transfiguration were even more pleasant than usual. In History of Magic, Professor Binns seemed half-alive. Even Percy Weasley was almost pleasant to Hermione, mumbling a half-hearted wish for a happy birthday in her general direction as she walked from the Defense classroom.

Hermione spent two hours after lessons in the library. Just because she and Severus were absconding across Britain for a date did not mean Hermione didn't have homework. She finished up her History of Magic essay and a comparative analysis of various magical flames for Charms, and then she made her way down to the dungeons. Severus had already come and gone, it seemed. Hermione rushed to ready herself, yanking on the dark green wool dress Ginny had recommended, along with a mustard-colored cardigan. She made a half-hearted attempt to smooth her hair into waves around her shoulders before realizing the drizzle outside would muck it up, and she surrendered by tying it back into a low, tight chignon with a strip of green velvet as a headband. She took five minutes to apply a bit of powder, mascara, and lip balm, and she slipped on simple flat shoes before glancing in the mirror.

Well, if he thinks you're ugly on your own birthday, he isn't fit to be your husband, Hermione thought, looking her own reflection up and down and shrugging. She made her way upstairs and out the front doors of Hogwarts, pulling her rain jacket more closely about her in the evening mist.

Finally she neared the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where she'd agreed to meet Severus. From far away, he appeared as a shadowy silhouette, half-hidden by the evergreen branches hanging above his head. As Hermione stepped closer to him, she could see that he'd put on a black suit, black dress shirt, and a crisp black tie. He'd combed his hair more carefully than usual, too. She chuckled as she pulled up to him and touched his shirt.

"You look like a Muggle," she grinned up at him. He frowned and shifted on his feet, and Hermione quickly amended, "A handsome Muggle, to be certain."

"Happy birthday, you mawkish little thing. Shall we go?" Severus suggested, flicking up an eyebrow and holding out his arm to Hermione. She nodded crisply and laced her arm through his. Severus did not move, and Hermione looked up at him, confused. His throat bobbed, and he said quietly, "You're beautiful, you know. Today. Every day. I love you."

Hermione felt her mouth fall open, and she nodded mutely. Finally, she managed to whisper, "I love you, too, Severus."

"Right. Let's go, then," he said crisply, and Hermione felt her arm tug against him as he Disapparated. Most witches and wizards were utterly incapable of Side-Along Apparition, for it was a complication added to an already advanced maneuver. But Severus was more than adept at bringing Hermione along with him. The black, pinching, whirling nothingness lasted only a brief moment, and then Hermione felt her feet slam onto pavement. She caught her breath and quickly realized that it was not raining where they were. She looked around herself and frowned deeply.

"Muswell Hill?" she breathed, stepping out from the alley into which they'd appeared. "Why have we come here?"

It was the London suburb where she'd grown up. Hermione padded out onto Fortis Green Road and felt her eyes sting as she recognized all the shops and Victorian buildings from her youth. She turned over her shoulder and shot Severus a questioning glare. He chewed his bottom lip carefully and said,

"There is a Greek restaurant just up on Muswell Hill Broadway. You have told me before that you used to very much enjoy eating there. Would you like to go now?"

Hermione nodded, for that was all she could do. She put her hand in Severus' and let him guide her up the road. They passed the towering steeple of St. James' church and turned left onto the Broadway. In the dim light of the evening, Hermione took note of the elegant red brick buildings that lined the way. She began to pull upon Severus, for it was she who knew these streets like the back of her hand.

They finally came to the gleaming wooden entrance of Troodos, the classic beamed tavern where Hermione had taken many a cheap meal with her parents. They were dreadfully overdressed for the place, with Severus in his full tailored suit and Hermione in her knee-length woolen dress. But Hermione didn't care. Severus held the door for her, and as she stepped into the restaurant, she was hit square in the face with the delectable aromas of lemon and garlic and cooking meats. Hermione glanced about and recognized a few familiar faces. None seemed so happy to see her as Agda, the warm-hearted matron of the tavern. She came bustling over the front door, wiping her hands on the black apron about her waist, and suddenly Hermione found herself wrapped up in a tight squeeze.

"Hermione Granger! It's been… what, perhaps three years since you have been here! You used to come all the time with your dear Papa and Mama. How are they? How are you? And who is this? Come and sit down. Come, come."

Hermione grinned widely as she followed Agda to a table. Severus made a move to pull out Hermione's chair for her, but Agda shooed him away and did it herself. She tucked Hermione's napkin onto her lap and called out behind her,

"Tadeas, get a lamb meze started for paidi mou." Agda turned back to the table and said quickly to Severus, "It's a series of cold appetizers, dips and pitta breads, and lamb dishes. You'll enjoy it. So, Hermione, where have you been? You are beautiful. Your hair is beautiful!"

Severus smirked across the table, and Hermione flashed him an apologetic look before smiling warmly up at Agda. "I've been off at boarding school, you know," she told Agda, "and my parents… erm…"

She wasn't certain what exactly to say. I was deeply involved in a wizarding war, Agda, and my parents' safety was at risk. We performed a memory-wiping spell upon them and sent them to Australia. That's where they are now.

"My parents are well," she said at last, and Agda grinned.

"Oh, well, we have missed you. You must come back and eat our tiropitakia. You look thin. And who is this?" She gestured grandly toward Severus, who rose from his chair and inclined his head.

"Severus Snape, madam. I'm Hermione's husband."

Hermione was rather surprised to hear Severus admit to that, and for a brief moment she fell into the same shocked silence as Agda. The plump Greek woman cast her wide eyes back and forth between Severus and Hermione a few times, and then a rather forced smile came over her face.

"Opa! Married! Congratulations to you both. I shall have some Ouzo Plomari sent right over." She patted Hermione's shoulder and her plastered-on smiled warmed a bit as she nodded. "Good to have you back, Hermione."

The rest of the meal was very pleasant as Hermione and Severus sipped at their ice-cold ouzo and ate olives and lamb and tzatziki sauce. When Severus pulled out Muggle money to pay, Hermione thought that she would rather not know where he'd gotten it from. But it didn't seem to matter, for dear old Agda told them the meal was a gift and all she wanted in exchange was the promise of another visit soon. Hermione agreed and Severus reluctantly tucked the bills away again. As they strolled back toward Fortis Green Road, Hermione squeezed Severus' hand and murmured,

"Thank you. What a lovely birthday surprise."

"We've one more place to go before we head back to Hogwarts, I think," Severus told her, and Hermione frowned as he began to pull her to his right, up the street in a direction that felt far too familiar. Hermione yanked back on him and stopped her steps.

"Where are you going, Severus?" she asked, her voice carrying a warning. Severus pinched his lips as he looked back to her.

"Just come with me, will you?"

Hermione felt uneasy as she walked with him toward her parents' house. When the stout red brick structure came into view, her belly flopped and her ears rang and went hot. Her instinct was to pull out her wand and prepare for a fight, for the last years of her life had taught her to react that way in uncomfortable situations. But this shouldn't have been an uncomfortable place, Hermione knew. It was her home. Or, at least, it had been, once upon a time. She stood before the iron gate, her hands gripping the spindles as she stared up at her old bedroom window. She gulped heavily and whispered to Severus,

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Go up and knock on the door," Severus said simply. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Her parents were in Australia. They had no idea who she was. What good would it do to knock on their door? Severus just nodded once and said again, very seriously, "Go and knock on the door, Hermione."

She was numb and cold as she pushed the creaking iron gate open. Her feet carried her of their own accord up the concrete stoop, and her hand shook fiercely as it rose to the brass knocker. She clacked it four times upon the front door, but nothing happened. Her stomach fluttered and her breath hitched, and Hermione peered through the lace curtains to try to see inside the house. She was about to whirl around and demand an explanation from Severus when the door opened slowly. Hermione's eyes flew to the threshold, and she nearly collapsed.

"Mum," she whispered, and she hurled herself forward. She could not control herself, and she suddenly found that she did not care at all that her parents did not remember her. She needed to embrace her mother; it was as simple as that. She could feel her father's hand rubbing her shoulders gently, could hear his voice shushing her. She could smell her mother's dignified perfume as she sobbed, and she said again, "Mum… Mum! Dad!"

"Happy birthday, Hermione," her mother answered.

---

Severus Snape was very accomplished at keeping secrets, but the ones about Hermione's parents had been the most difficult to conceal in his life.

The process of returning Hermione's parents to her had been arduous and risky. In mid-May, Severus had determined that the risk of Death Eaters and Dark wizards had gone at last, and he'd resolved to reunite Hermione with her parents. He had lied to Hermione - something he strove never to do - and had told her he was going to Hogwarts for a week to prepare for the upcoming term. He had finished his business at the school in two days flat, and then had gotten on a Muggle airliner to Australia.

Mr and Mrs Granger appeared to have settled well into Melbourne. When Severus found them, they were eating lunch at a breezy café and discussing the latest films. He'd surreptitiously searched their minds from another table at the café, and he had been utterly unable to find a trace of Hermione.

The next day, Severus had gone to Granger Dental Clinic on Spencer Street and had managed to get both dentists in the same room. He was committing multiple gross violations of international statutes protecting Muggles from magic, he knew, but there was nothing to be done. Anyway, in the wake of the war, the British Ministry had enough to worry about without fretting over whether Voldemort's killer was futzing with Muggle memories. Severus had cajoled the Grangers back to their home, and he'd spent the next three days carefully deleting and replacing memories.

This process had continued over four more trips. Of course, what Severus was able to do in terms of replacing the Grangers' memories was somewhat limited. It would have been easier, probably, for Hermione to do it, since she possessed the real, visceral memories of her own childhood. It certainly would have been better if a less-damaging memory spell had been used in the first place; Obliviate was notoriously hard to untangle. But by mid-July, Mr and Mrs Granger were more or less back to their old selves, and at the end of the month, they were on an airplane bound for London.

They had been shocked, of course, to hear of what had happened in the wizarding world. They seemed distraught at the concept of Hermione fearing for her own life and for others'. And, most of all, they were alarmed to hear that their only child had married herself off at eighteen to a man more than twice her age. That conversation had been a long and uncomfortable one on a connecting flight between Shanghai and London.

"You were her teacher, then?" Mr Granger had asked, curling his lip up from where he sat beside Severus on the airplane. From time to time, the man's memory seemed to flicker and blip. Severus pursed his lips.

"I was the Potions Master for the first six years of Hermione's education, and then I taught her Defense Against the Dark Arts," he had said very quietly, wishing that a Muffliato around their seats wouldn't be have hampered by the airplane's busy electronics. Severus had chosen his words very carefully then as he looked at the Grangers. "I began private lessons with her to help her augment her skills due to the conflicts in the community. I meant to help her protect herself. She is very able, as you well know. I did not mean to fall in love with her, but it happened. And it would seem a terribly uncivilized thing to do to fall in love with a woman and not commit oneself fully to her, don't you agree? I promise you, Mr and Mrs Granger, that I love your daughter very dearly. And I shall strive always to be a fine husband for her."

The Grangers had very slowly come around. Through letter exchanges over the next six weeks, Severus had plotted with them to bring Hermione to London on her birthday. He would send a bag ahead for her, with clothing and toiletries, so that she might stay a few nights and reconnect with her parents. After all, the girl had not seen her mother and father properly in over two years. She'd last seen them over a year earlier, but that had been for a brief and painful visit that ended in wiping their memories. Before that, Hermione had spent the Christmas holidays of her sixth year at Hogwarts, so she hadn't seen her parents for any pleasant length of time since the summer between her fifth and sixth years. Undoubtedly, the family had a fair bit of catching up to do.

Now Severus stood with one hand upon the iron gate outside the Grangers' house, watching as Hermione sobbed in her mother's arms and frantically tried to figure out her parents' mental state. Once Hermione established that her parents knew and remembered her, the little gathering had begun to move into the house. Severus prepared himself to leave, feeling very much like an unwanted intruder in the family's private moment. He smiled a bit to himself, glad that all had worked out according to plan. But then, suddenly, he heard Hermione's cracked voice say,

"Mum, Dad… you've already met him, but I feel as though I ought to introduce him to you just the same. This is my husband, Severus. Come on inside, will you, Severus? Come and I shall make everyone some tea."

She beckoned to him, to where he stood by the gate. He hesitated, trying to put himself in the Grangers' shoes and thinking if he were them, he'd want time alone with Hermione. But they were a unit now; they were bound by marriage and something much deeper than that. Mrs Granger seemed to be able to sense this. She squeezed her daughter's hand and kissed the top of her head, and she nodded toward the man who had both taken and restored her memory.

"Please do come in," she said in a kind tone. "I started a kettle five minutes before you got here. I shall make the tea."

Severus smirked, seeing at once from where Hermione had inherited her fiery determination. He nodded and adjusted the hem of his black suit coat, and he walked up the concrete steps into his mother-in-law's parlor.