Did you ever consider the possibility that I did not want to be saved?

The lines on his forehead became more pronounced as he stepped towards her. A hot gust of breath crawled over her skin as his words resonated in her ears.

I did not want to be saved.

The scene vanished and Hermione found herself peering through a window of an impressive, pale brick house that bore an uncanny resemblance to Malfoy Manor. Through the smeared glass pane, she spotted the typical ostentatious furnishings of a grand house and a long black marble table, where several cloaked men sat.

She assumed they were men, but each wore a black gnarled mask that hid their features from sight. Above their heads, a green smoke serpent laced itself through the eye sockets of a skull as its tail slithered over the bared teeth.

Cruel eyes glittered through the holes in the mask of the conjurer, but it was the man to his left that caught Hermione's attention. His eyes seemed black and empty as they focused on the green snake. His gloved hands gripped his wand while his companions stared wordlessly at the enchanted smoke skull.

She did not see one of the masked men rise from the table until he appeared suddenly at the window. His pale lips narrowed into a thin line. The glass pane melted into thin air, leaving her exposed to his curse, as he raised his wand and a flash of green light erupted from the tip of his wand.

A loud bang echoed like metal on oak as the curse struck her chest, knocking her backwards onto the gravel.

The ground felt hard beneath her, but when her hand fell to her side, her fingers brushed against soft cotton.

Another bang woke her and Hermione felt the metal coils inside the mattress dig into her spine while her hands curled in her duvet.

Panting heavily, she felt a momentary rush of relief as she processed the familiar surroundings of her private quarters. She had never imagined she could be so relieved to find herself in the cold, draughty dungeon room.

Her hair felt heavy and damp with the sheet of sweat that drenched her body. Her skin felt sticky and uncomfortably wet as she sat bolt upright in her bed and blood pounded in her ears as images from the dream flashed in her head. The dark, empty eyes that stared out through the mask seemed remarkably reminiscent of a certain someone and Hermione felt a rising sense of unease form in the pit of her stomach.

The loud banging resumed and she realised that it had not been her dream, but a rather irate visitor.

'Who is it?' she called as she shrugged on her dressing gown.

'Hermione? Let us in!'

Blearily, she rubbed the rheum from her eyes and staggered towards the door of her chambers.

'SURPRISE!'

'Surprise!'

Harry and Neville hurtled through the open door and wrapped their arms around her. They were followed by a very pregnant Ginny, who could only waddle very slowly with her hands clasped protectively over her protruding belly.

'What are you all doing here?' Hermione gasped as the boys let go, freeing her lungs from their rib-crushing embrace. She stepped towards Ginny and gave the youngest Weasley a very delicate cuddle. 'Especially you!'

'I know,' agreed Neville, turning his gaze to Ginny's bulging stomach. 'You look ready to burst.'

'Thanks a bunch,' said Ginny dryly. 'I might be somewhat incapacitated at the moment, but I can still use a wand. Anyway, we decided we would do something for your birthday this weekend, Hermione, since I don't know how much longer this cheeky chappy is going to stay put.' She dropped her head to address the bump that strained against her t-shirt.

'And we managed to sneak out the house without Molly noticing,' said Harry, raising his eyebrows significantly.

'Plus I thought you could do with a bit of cheering up,' said Neville as he bounded across the room and settled into the sofa. 'After a week with Snape, you deserve a treat.'

'I wish you'd given me a bit more notice,' said Hermione as she self-consciously patted her curls in an attempt to reduce the frizz. Glistening pearls of sweat continued to trickle down her spine and wet strands of hair plastered the back of her neck, which was damp with perspiration.

'Oh, you look great,' huffed Ginny. 'I wish I could say the same. I'm lucky if I can find the energy to brush my hair some mornings, considering I can hardly fit inside our bathroom anymore. Just stick on some clothes, brush your teeth and you'll be good to go!'

'And just where are we going?' she asked as she rummaged in her chest of drawers. Her work robes had been discarded in a hasty pile upon the settee.

'The Three Broomsticks,' replied Harry. 'However, we did consider Madam Puddifoot's.' An expression of mock seriousness crossed his face.

Hermione grimaced.

'Hm, yeah, let's not.'

A loud cough suddenly interrupted their laughter and, out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted a figure appear in the doorway.

'Hi, Hermione.'

She recognised his voice before she clapped eyes on his thin, gangly form, leaning against the wooden door frame. He had grown his hair and underneath the tufts of vibrant ginger, she spotted the rueful expression that worried his freckled face.

'Hello,' Hermione replied as she stared at him. Her mouth dried and her voice came out as an unnaturally high squeak.

Ron took a step forward, glancing about the room as he moved.

'This is nice,' he commented awkwardly, gesturing to the furniture before his hand fell limply by his side.

'You should've seen the state of it before,' said Hermione, forcing a nonchalant airiness into her voice as she tore her gaze away from him. 'All grime and chintz furniture.'

Ginny gave a mock shudder of revulsion as she lowered herself onto Hermione's bed.

Harry and Neville, however, kept their eyes trained on Hermione, watching her reaction to the unexpected appearance of her former boyfriend. Ron, too, seemed rather nervous as he looked at her, as if in fearful anticipation of a furious outburst.

The tension shattered with a loud cry from Ginny.

'Merlin! You actually sleep on this thing?' she exclaimed as prodded the mattress with her finger.

They broke into laughter and the tense glances melted into relief as Hermione gave Ron a genuine smile.

'Feels weird, doesn't it? To be back,' remarked Ron as the quintuple exited Hermione's chamber and strolled along the stone corridor towards the steep, winding staircase. 'And to think, after all this time, I've still got goosebumps! Just the thought of bumping into the great, greasy bat of the dungeons makes me –'

Ron stopped in his tracks as a familiar black-clad form suddenly appeared out of one of the school's passageways concealed behind a huge tapestry of Salazar Slytherin. Hermione's heart began to beat faster as she looked at him. She recalled the blank, dark eyes peering out of the holes of the mask in her dream. The way his gaze had followed the oscillating movements of the snake's tail as the serpent slithered over the crown of the green skull seemed permanently etched in her mind.

'Well, well, if it isn't the Gryffindor dream team.' Sarcasm dripped from every syllable.

Ron swallowed thickly as the Potions master bared his teeth in a faint sneer.

'Professor! Long time no see. H – How are you?' he stammered as his freckled ears turned pink.

'Spectacular, Mr Weasley,' he replied dryly, raising a thin black eyebrow. 'Here I was, thinking my Saturday couldn't get any better and now I have the pleasure of this little reunion.'

'Blimey, he's not changed much,' muttered Harry into her ear.

Hermione felt a rush of relief that he was not in the mood to corner Snape and subject him to endless questions about his change of allegiance.

'We're just on our way out,' she said.

Ron took this as a moment of opportunity to scurry ahead, followed closely by Harry and Neville, while poor Ginny brought up the rear, toddling in their wake as she clutched her belly.

'As am I,' replied Snape as his pale fingers adjusted the travelling cloak fastened around his neck.

'Where are you going?' Hermione asked as she matched his stride towards the staircase. Anxiety began to augment as she considered the notion that her dream was not beyond the realms of possibility.

'Out.'

'Oh, somewhere nice?'

Her attempts at joviality faltered under Snape's death stare.

'You continue to labour under the illusion that you are of a standing to speak to me as my equal,' he growled. 'You are not my equal, Miss Granger, and the paltry title of Potions assistantthat the Headmistress has bestowed upon you does not make it so.'

'I just –'

'Good day, Miss Granger.'

He marched along the corridor, sweeping up the staircase behind the former Gryffindors, much to Ron's sudden alarm, before overtaking and disappearing out of sight.

'You deserve another Order of Merlin for having to deal with that grumpy bugger on a daily basis,' Ron muttered as Hermione scurried after them.

Madam Rosmerta's eyes nearly popped out of her head as Hermione and Ron walked into the pub side-by-side.

The staring was not one-sided and Ron also struggled to tear his eyes away from the barmaid, whom he had long nourished a soft spot for as a teenager.

In the past, Hermione would have felt a pang of irritation, but given their circumstances, she merely shook her head and rolled her eyes as they ordered five pints of Butterbeer and five plates of roast pheasant with port and chestnut sauce.

As they sat down at a table, Hermione could not shake the disquiet she felt about Snape's disappearance that afternoon. She knew she had came on too strongly the day before and it would require a lot effort and silence on her part to redeem herself and salvage some sense of concord. But the thought of him reuniting with his former comrades was not a pleasant one. It was not that she doubted his integrity, but the idea that he actively wanted to spend time with such men stirred her concern.

She was roused from her thoughts by a sudden announcement from Harry that made Ron choke on his Butterbeer.

Harry looked sheepish as he finished and Ginny tisked before turning her head to face the window. Evidently, the subject had already provoked opposing opinions among the couple.

'Well, that's a bit of a kick in the teeth,' said Ron indignantly. 'You're sitting here with your oldest friends in the world and you want to make that slimey git the godfather of your unborn child? Did you see how he greeted you? He barely even looked at you! If you thought you had a bad upbringing with the Dursleys, imagine what your poor child would go through.'

'Wait, who are you talking about?' asked Hermione.

'Snape!' cried Ron. 'Harry wants to make Snape the godfather!'

'You do realise the point of a godparent, don't you, Harry?' asked Hermione. 'The role of a godparent is to look after a child if the parents are, for whatever reason, unable to do so. As self-sacrificing as he's been, he wouldn't be top of my list for babysitting duties.'

'Thanks, Hermione. That was my argument too,' said Ginny crisply. Her eyebrows had almost disappeared out of sight as she raised them at her. 'But Harry doesn't seem to agree.'

'Well, it's more of an honorary thing, anyway,' said Harry, rubbing the back of his neck. 'It's the thought that counts.'

'You're really saying that if anything happened to you both – touchwood,' continued Ron, slamming his hand onto the wooden table, 'that you would let Snape look after your child?'

'I wouldn't trust him to look after so much as a Snargaluff plant,' muttered Neville as he swallowed a mouthful of pheasant.

'Oh, come off it!' cried Harry. 'We're all sitting here because of him! Remember in first year when Quirrell jinxed my broom? Severus was the one who saved me and –'

'Technically,' said Ron through a mouthful of carrots, 'Hermione saved you. Snape only tried to...and stop calling him "Severus", it's freaking me out. You're talking about him like he's our friend.'

'And then in third year,' continued Harry, pointedly ignoring Ron, 'when Lupin transformed –'

'You're right, he protected us. But, remember, he also wanted you expelled,' Hermione interjected. 'If Lupin and Sirius hadn't stupefied him, he probably would have succeeded too.'

'What about all he did during the war? Working as a double agent, that was –'

'Really admirable,' said Ginny, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'But that doesn't necessarily make him good godfather material.'

Harry sank into a sullen sulk and the four of them exchanged tense looks.

'So, how's work been for you two?' Hermione asked, addressing Ron and Harry, as she speared a stock of asparagus with her fork.

'The usual,' Ron groaned as he drank his Butterbeer. 'Dark wizards with a penchant for the Unforgivables trying to form a band of faithful supporters.'

Hermione felt her heart stop as she lowered the fork from her mouth.

'You mean...like what You-Know-Who once did?' She looked nervously between Harry and Ron. Ron was shovelling forkfuls of roast bird into his open mouth while Harry merely shook his head.

'A lot of them don't possess the skill or the dexterity to amass such a large following,' he explained as he reached for the sauce-boat. 'But we need to keep an eye out for any shady activity...and we keep tabs on all former Death Eaters, of course.'

'Has there been anything suspicious going on?' she asked, trying to level her tone.

'Not really,' said Harry, tilting his head to the side.

'Not really?'

Harry sighed heavily as he lowered his cutlery.

'In the past few months or so, we've noticed that Crabbe, Goyle, Rabastan – the last of the Lestranges – and a few others meet up on the odd occasion and –'

'You don't think that's something to worry about?' asked Hermione urgently.

'We've followed them numerous times, but there doesn't seem to be anything sinister in these...meetings or whatever they are,' he said, gesturing vaguely with his fork. 'A lot of the old gang are locked up in Azkaban, anyway.'

Hermione traced the rim of the glass with her fingertip as she mulled over her next question. Part of her felt torn between her loyalty to Snape, as well as her resolution to stop meddling his privacy, and curiosity about his communications with his former Death Eater comrade.

'What about the Malfoys?' she asked with forced nonchalance.

Harry, however, did not miss the suspicious expression that fleetingly crossed her face. But it was Ron who answered.

'Draco got married,' he said, as he swallowed the last morsel of pheasant. 'A witch named Astoria Greengrass or something like that...Poor girl.'

'What about his father?'

'Lucius defected before the end of the war,' said Ron with a shrug. 'That awful cousin of Yaxley's, who you used to work for in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, made him enrol in the rehabilitation programme so aside from scrubbing bedpans in St Mungo's – or whatever it is that they're forced to do – I don't think he's been doing very much. But he and Avery met up to go to one of the reunions last month, but other than he seems to have kept his nose clean.'

'And you don't think that these catch-ups are...dangerous?'

'Well, they're not breaking any laws,' replied Harry fairly. 'We'll keep an eye out, but until we know for certain that they're up to something, there's little we can do.'

Hermione bit her lip as she sat back in her chair. She did not believe that Snape had any desire to involve himself in a resurrection of the old ways. Judging by his behaviour, he seemed to wish for a troubleless life with minimal bother, but she could not deny that his interaction with his former allies troubled her. She could not fathom the purpose behind their meetings or his motives for joining them as he was not exactly renowned for his social skills.

'I quite fancy a jaunt around Hogsmeade,' said Ron, staring wistfully out of the window. 'You up for it?'

Ginny groaned.

'I'll sit this one out,' she grumbled. 'The last thing I want to do is trudge through the village.'

'I'll stay with you,' said Hermione as the boys got to their feet and departed through the old wooden door of the pub. The mid-September bitter chill flooded through the open door and she gave an involuntary shiver.

'Are you OK?' Ginny asked as she glanced at Hermione.

She nodded in response, wrapping her scarf around her neck.

'Just cold.'

'What was all that about Malfoy?' Ginny asked curiously.

Hermione shook her head.

'Nothing. Just curious,' she said, feigning indifference.

'I wasn't born yesterday,' said Ginny with a smirk. 'Tell me.'

Her green eyes were wide and encouraging and Hermione exhaled heavily.

'I've been such an idiot.'

Glancing towards the bar to ensure Madam Rosmerta was out of sight, Hermione told Ginny the events of the day before.

She watched a flicker of disapproval appear on the red-haired woman's face as she related the part where she entered his private rooms and, when she had finished her story, Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile.

'I know I shouldn't have barged in like that, demanding to know why Malfoy was there. But it startled me. I didn't think that there was the slightest possibility that he kept in touch with his old Death Eater pals...I thought it was all just a front. I didn't think he'd continue to meet up with them after the war, which is making me think that maybe something's wrong...'

'That facade was for You-Know-Who. But Snape was at school with a lot of those men,' replied Ginny gently. 'Lucius was the first one to welcome him at the Sorting Feast.'

'How do you know that?' asked Hermione as her eyebrows furrowed together.

'Harry told me. He didn't tell me everything he saw in the Pensieve, I know that he's keeping something secret and that's his business. Whatever it is, it's between him and Snape. But, going back to Lucius, maybe – in spite of everything that they have done – maybe they are all Snape's got in the way of friends.'

'Well, he's got his colleagues. He's got Minerva and –'

Ginny stifled a giggle.

'I can't imagine that they're on the same wave length. I imagine they get on fine as coworkers, but I doubt it goes beyond that,' said Ginny.

'You're right,' replied Hermione. 'There's no one on the staff of a similar age with the same interests. I guess Lucius and the rest can relate, to some extent, with that life that they once shared. But I just hate the thought of him being around those men. He was never truly like that.'

'Well, he was once.'

'But that was years ago! When he was a teenager, who had barely left school. He changed. The only reason the others gave up the dark arts was that their side lost. I really want to help, but he –'

Hermione faltered and exhaled slowly as she felt choked by the stress and the emotion that the past week had brought.

'I thought perhaps that bitterness and rage derived from the stress of his role as a double agent, but he seems even angrier. He rejects all my attempts to help him and I feel so guilty about yesterday, but just the thought of him returning to that lifestyle when he has another chance at a normal, happy life, it just makes me so –'

'I know you want to help him. But maybe he doesn't want to be helped. You saved him from death, but maybe he doesn't want the life you envisage for him or the life that you think he deserves.'

'I know.' Hermione nodded. 'I just...'

Ginny gave her a sad smile.

'You expected him to be different.'