Name: Unknown

Magical/Muggle?: Witch

DOB: Unknown

Age: 10-15 months

Sex: Female

Weight: 3.5 Kg

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Brown

Family History: Unknown

History and Condition:

Infant girl found in Muggle London Chinatown, likely abandoned. Lungs severely underdeveloped with mild pneumonia. Malnourished, anaemia caused by either respiratory distress or poor nutrition. Signs of gastrointestinal distress. No signs of physical trauma, body temp low.

Ten years had passed, which gave Severus the right to claim the file. A strange system, but one he was more than happy to take advantage of. He read Hermione's treatment course but found his eyes going back to the description of her condition. Malnourished? That didn't seem right. Hermione's birth parents were stupid children, in way over their heads, but he couldn't see them being neglectful to the extent of starving her...purposely. He remembered one of the panicked conversations he'd overheard through the thin walls that summer.

"Why isn't she gaining weight?" Catherine cried. "I've been feeding according to schedule!"

"I don't know...Have you tried everything the doctor said? I mean everything."

"Of course I am, Ren! Jesus Christ!" she screamed. "It's not like I want her to be sick!"

"For Christ's sake, Cat! No one is accusing you of that!"

"You are!"

"Maybe if we just-"

"NO!" she shrieked. "We are not getting help. We're smart, we can do this on our own. We have to do this on our own."

A string of curses echoed through the thin walls joined by Hermione's wailing and wheezing. Before long there was a trio of distinct voices sobbing. And then Catherine's voice formed words, perhaps louder than she intended:

"My mother had four other kids before me. I can feed her myself, my body was made for this..."

Musing on Hermione's papers, Severus wondered if the girl knew how much damage her damn pride did to Hermione. She was smaller than she should be, she was landed in the hospital and despite their early separation, Hermione was just as neurotic and stubbornly independent as her birth-mother. Not that her birth-father was any better, both were self-destructive in their pursuits and Hermione didn't seem to rise above it.

"Though, of course your pride and neuroses have done no damage whatsoever to the girl," a voice teased. "No, you've been father of the goddamn year."

"I'm dreaming..." he sighed, turning his face from the burning emerald eyes staring him down.

"Does that make me wrong, Sev?" Lily leaned over his desk and turned his face to her. "If this is your dream and I'm saying this, what does that say about you?"

"That I need to stop working before bed," he murmured before rising and gathering the files. "I know it's not you. Lily was never so cruel."

"Perhaps I was," she said following him. "All you have are memories of an idea. Can you honestly say that you knew me?"

"I knew her," he spat. "All you are is-"

"A figment of your mind?" Lily hissed, grabbing his arm with cold talon-like hands. "Almost ten years since the real me died and I'm still kicking around in your brain almost every night. Why do you think that is?"

Ignore her...ignore it! She's not real. His stomach churned and a chill ran down his spine. Every fibre of his being fought to move away from her, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the replica staring daggers at him. He knew exactly why she haunted his dreams for so many years. She didn't need to say it.

"You killed us! You knew that long before we actually died," she spat. "Your attempts to save us were as useless as you are now."

"I know..." he sighed. "If I knew then what I know-"

"Oh, save it!" Lily snapped. "This is your dream, remember? I'm a manifestation of your guilt and you know exactly what that means."

Icy tendrils clutched at Severus's heart and lungs. This was all fake, but he could feel the tears beginning to form and his throat tighten. He could separate the form before him from the woman he loved, but despite the clearly different dispositions, they had the same voice, same face, same eyes. Even when he had more control of his dreams, he merged the two eventually. "Lily, please-"

"It means that some part of you knows that everything I'm saying is true!" she snapped.

"I know."

"You deserve this!"

Severus woke at his desk, his head buried in the hospital files. He wondered when he fell asleep, but he could tell by the stiffness in his neck it had been a while. He threw the files back together and went to put them in a desk drawer until he could decide what to do with it later.

"For the love of Merlin," he groaned.

When the hell did he start a rubbish drawer? Upon opening the damn thing he was confronted with a stack of journals, unbound papers, rolls of parchment and loose rolling inkwells. At least he had a reason to stay awake...

He emptied it and set about organizing piles according to frequency of use. A vibrant bit of pink caught his eye. Had he really kept that there? He delicately pulled out the misshapen pink paper heart. Two painted stick figures held hands, one drawn in black, the shorter in brown with messy labels reading "Daddy" and "Me". Hermione was just barely four when she drew it, sprawled out on the floor with a slew of paints and paper. When she finished she presented it to him, beaming. Of the few things he kept from those days, he remembered why he kept this in his office. He couldn't look at it without seeing her bright smiling face. The way she looked at him back then, she trusted him so completely.

He lost that trust a long time ago and hadn't a clue how to earn it back. The Yamoto boy was just the latest in a long list of betrayals. Why did he even do it? Everything else he could justify, at least in the moment...but he didn't even have that. He simply didn't want to lose her...but she needed to have someone else in her life eventually. But what if something happened? Such a fragile little thing, and so eager to please or impress; she'd already proven she was willing to defend those who were cruel to her...Was it any wonder he worried about her peers taking advantage of her?

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

It was already sent. She already sent it. Hermione snuck into the owlery that morning before they left and sent the letter to Hiro Yamato. She wondered how long it would take to receive mail and reply. Japan wasn't exactly close. And would he reply? What if he got it and thought she was lying about losing the mail? What if he never sent a letter in the first place? They were supposed to be in correspondence since September, it was now July. If he did send one out, he might have stopped a long time ago. Hermione had no proof the recent charred paper was actually from a letter.

What if he wanted nothing to do with her? The first time she met someone her own age it didn't go well. Pansy Parkinson was truly awful. But before she had any evidence that Hermione's personality didn't mesh with her own she hated her. She remembered the unimpressed smile she gave her on sight. At least Hiro would have no idea what she looked like...unlike every student in her year. She had so much working against her, Hermione didn't even know where to start.

All she could do was wait, and she hated it. What if-

Stop it. You'll go mad, she told herself as she pulled the blankets over her head and curled up into a tight ball. Sleep would eventually come to her. She just had to stop thinking about the damn letter. Hermione hadn't always been a perfect daughter, and she certainly pushed lines with the rules, but this was the first time she'd ever directly went against her father's wishes. She wasn't sure what would happen if he ever found out, but what upset her more was the possibility that he found out and Hiro couldn't be bothered. Then she'll have done all this for nothing.

All this, you idiot! she admonished herself. All you did was write a short letter and send it out. Just go to sleep, just go to sleep...Why did I send it? I did this to myself! Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. She brought up an image in her head of a book she had recently read. She categorically ran down the list of magical properties of common British woods.

Hermione's mental recitations of readings were interrupted by the muted creak of the door. Had she been asleep or there had been other noise she imagined she wouldn't have heard it. She wondered what he had been doing, but she wasn't sure if she'd be caught if she craned her neck out to the living-area. It's not like he's going to be carrying evidence of whatever the hell he's been doing. Just go to sleep...

Morning came with the shrill cry of the rooster and Hermione forced herself out of bed. She rubbed her eyes and stretched before seeing a pair of yellow eyes facing her from the head of her bed.

"Aren't you supposed to be nocturnal?" she hissed under her breath.

Like Hermione and her father, Archimedes didn't seem to have consistent sleep and wake times. Something that irritated Hermione as it often was necessary to bribe him before sneaking out. Considering her inconsistent sleep, she wondered if that was evidence she might be related to her father. She knew she shouldn't care about that, or who her biological mother was or possibly biological parents were. Hermione might not have had the most normal upbringing or family, but they still cared for each other and she didn't want him thinking he wasn't good enough. He was...she just wanted to know where she came from.

"Good morning," her father peered over the paper.

"Morning, Dad," she stifled a yawn with her hand. "This is unusual."

"You mean a morning where you haven't scampered off to some unknown corner of the castle?" he asked. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"I hardly have the energy to 'scamper' before seven," she smiled and sat opposite him.

"Yet other words I might use such as 'crept' or 'snuck' would imply you were trying to evade detection," he set the paper down. "That can't be it now, can it?"

"Why, father," she gasped dramatically. "You would accuse me of such mischief? I'm deeply wounded."

"Of course not, love," he smirked. "I'm implying it."

"If the teaching thing doesn't work out you should try stand-up."

"That'll happen the day you become a professional quidditch player," he turned the page. "Oh, look, there's an opening on the Irish team."

"Oh, hardy-har-har," she groaned in response. "I take back what I said about you doing stand-up."

"I'm simply devastated," he said. "You used to be such a sweet little girl. I haven't a clue what happened."

"Why do I feel like every parent says that as their child gets older?" Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What's on the docket for today?"

"The headmaster has made his decision on the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher so he'll be announcing that," his tone told her he once again didn't get it. "And then we'll be updating syllabi and safety procedures."

"That sounds like a lovely way to kill eight hours," she sighed. "I wonder how this one will be ousted. I bet they resign before Exams."

"What makes you say that?" he raised a curious eyebrow.

"I only really remember the last six professors, Let's see," she began to count on her fingers. "Professor McCleary retired at the end of term, Professor Jackson left in May for an emergency of some kind, Professor Adams literally left without a word on the first week of June, then Professor Archibald didn't come back in January after break, there was Professor Wren who stayed the term, but then last year Professor Izin had...well you know the details better than I do, but he also left in May."

"I remember, Hermione," he said. "I was there too. Your point is?"

"My point is that just in my memory there were four out of six that didn't make it to the exam period," she mentally tallied the numbers. "That's a sixty-seven percent chance they quit before exams and a 100% chance they don't make the year. With a margin of error of course, and sixty-seven isn't much higher than fifty, but given what information I have I'm pretty confident."

"I've raised a hustler," he groaned. "You would do well to keep your predictions to yourself. I won't have whoever the new hire is crying to me because I've raised a monster."

"Good as forgotten, sir."

"Very well," he rose and placed his hand on her head. "I'm off. Behave."

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

Once he left Hermione dug out her copy of Standard Book of Spells Grade One and began practising the charms in the first chapter. What was supposed to be a day divided into painting, learning Japanese (it was hard to find any books when raiding the language section of the library, and it like most, concerned itself with survival and magical language), and practising quickly turned into a day where she had spent obsessively practising each spell in the book, much like she did when learning the flute (something Hagrid had made for her "ter pass the time" when she was five, something she imagined drove poor Libby mad when she finished her lessons!). She had practised each spell from the first few chapters thrice until she saw the room grow darker. She quickly activated the lights, put her wand away and began obsessively note taking on technique and pronunciation.

By the time her father came home she had pages of notes (hastily taken albeit) at her side and she was bent over the fourth chapter, combing through it a second time whilst taking notes.

"You'll ruin both your eyes and your posture if you continue like that," he locked the door behind him.

Hermione bolted upright and met his eyes. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize to me, love," he combed through her notes. "You'll be the one regretting it before you're twenty."

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

He set the notes down and moved a strand of hair from her face. "Can we try to be a little less obsessive? I know too well what sort of damage this behaviour can cause."

She wondered what he meant by that, but knew she would never get a real explanation. "Yes, sir."

Days passed. Hermione finished the mural, thankful she now had access to magic that she used while the teachers were locked away in the staff room. She was thrilled to spend the rest of her time practising and reading through her school work. She had found a passage off the south wall of the library that she could shut herself up in with some candles.

Hermione could light, extinguish and levitate her candles, she felt ready to tackle transfiguring them before long. Taking long, deep breaths she visualized a long shaft of obsidian forming from the wax. Each droplet of wax crystallizing to shiny, cold, black stone. I can do this... she recited the incantation and went through the instructed motions. Before her where a lit taper stood was now a shaft of obsidian. Her heart leapt. She even stated on a flame that would hopefully eat-away at the candle more slowly and not burn as hot. That was coming along slowly, but she didn't let herself get discouraged.

All of the principles of magic she studied. The Latin, observing students through the window, the laws, it was all coming together. Something she was so frightened she'd struggle with, she now felt flow through her with ease. Everything worked, Hermione was in complete control. This, this she could do. Now, for another task she felt she might fail at.

"I don' like this, Hermione," Hagrid told her. "I've never been ter good at keepin' secrets, y'know."

"Oh, please, Hagrid!" Hermione begged. "If there's anything I can do for you or help you with I will!"

"Ya should be studyin', Hermione," Hagrid chuckled. "No use of that big brain of yers goin' ter waste grabbin' blast-ended skrewts."

Hermione scanned the one-bedroom hut for anything she could use. Hagrid lived humbly, she couldn't offer to clean for him, exercise Fang or do help with any of his duties. Anything he wasn't determined to do himself, was off the menu. He loved teaching Hermione about the creatures in the forest, but her father had seen a quick end to that. All she had now was the reflection of a perplexed girl staring back at her from her tea.

"I'll do anything!" she pleaded. "I'm not too proud."

Hagrid chuckled. Not cruelly, but with warmth. Everything the gigantic shaggy, black-haired man did radiated warmth. She wondered how she could have ever been afraid of him. He was simply the sweetest person she'd ever met and shuddered to think at the unfair treatment he received from those around him.

"I think the professors puttin' money on you endin' up in yer father's house will be mighty disappointed," he smiled.

"Wait," Hermione put down her tea. "Professors are placing bets on how I'll be sorted?"

"I shouldna said tha'!" Hagrid groaned. "Please, don' tell anyone?"

That! There was her moment, she could use that to...no, she couldn't blackmail Hagrid. She'd have to just get him to agree on his terms. "Of course, Hagrid."

"I suppose," Hagrid smiled, stroking his bushy black beard. "If you can keep a secret fer me, I guess I can do ya a favour."

"Honest?" Hermione squeaked, leaping from her barrel. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"

"I though' this was ter be a secret?" he winked.

Hermione's face flushed and she buried it in her hands.

"I'll take yer young lad's letters and we'll exchange them at the library."

"Honestly, Hagrid, you have no idea how much this means to me," she smiled and held his hand. "Thank you. So if you need any-"

"I won' hear nuthin' of tha'," Hagid chuckled again. "Ya better get goin' before yer missed."

"Right!"

"I am not giving you tips on which house to bet on, Flitwick!" Severus snapped. "We all know we have much more pressing matters to attend to."

The tiny man flushed and stared at his feet. God, Hermione must've only been eight or nine by the time she surpassed him in height. Any shame he felt was more than deserved. To bet on a child's future like that. Not that Severus was the epitome of appropriateness when it came to the treatment of children, he knew that. But they were betting on his child's future. He imagined the poor girl would be simply devastated to find the adults around her behaving in such a manner. If they wanted a spectacle, they had one in Potter, they could leave Hermione the hell alone.

"Anyone else looking to place bets on where a first year is likely to be sorted can search for other candidates," he addressed the room with an exaggerated eye roll. "I can think of one at least."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore said. "You can hardly blame us for our curiosity? I myself have a couple galleons riding on Gryffindor."

"I'm afraid, Headmaster," Severus held back his laughter. "That you will be sorely disappointed." He turned to McGonagall. "You're not mixed up in this nonsense, are you?"

"I assure you, Severus..." McGonagall began. "That I have a galleon on Ravenclaw."

"Don't let the frown fool you," he said. "I'm simply hysterical. Need I remind the lot of you that we are expecting a very important acquisition in a few weeks time? Something that we need to protect-"

"And with all this doom and gloom," Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles making Severus feel like a child being lectured. "We could all engage in a little harmless nonsense from time to time."

"Who is partaking in this nonsense then?" Severus groaned.

Ten years of teaching and Severus had never seen so many hands in the air at one moment. Every teacher had placed bets, even Binns, who he had previously thought incapable of doing anything outside disjointed lectures and leaving his body behind.

The lot of them decided to proclaim their preferred house. Severus would be lying if he said he wasn't amused by the sheer number of people who had made no contact with her betting with certainty that she would be in Slytherin. You lot are all in for a bit of a shock this fall. The ones who weren't losing money on an impossibility were solidly betting on Ravenclaw given the girl's love of the library. That was more likely. Dumbledore would be facing the same disappointment as the ones riding on Slytherin. There was simply no way his timid little bundle of neuroses would be sorted into Gryffindor, he couldn't even imagine it. Sprout was perhaps right, betting on her own house, Hufflepuff.

"No one is to say a word of this to Hermione. She would be devastated."

Severus couldn't help but think of the old muggle book Phantom of the Opera when he spied Hermione bent surreptitiously over a book taking countless notes. The thought of her stalking around the stacks and sleeping among the passages came more naturally than he would like to admit. Perhaps she'd take Pince's place upon her graduation. He liked the idea of her being so close, he could ensure her safety that way. Though as easy as it was to imagine Hermione haunting the library like a fictional character, he simply couldn't imagine her grown.

I won't have to for sometime, he thought as he crept up behind her covering her eyes with his hand.

"Honestly, Dad," Hermione said, moving his hand from her eyes. "Did that ever fool me?"

"At one time," Severus sighed, placing his hand on her head. "I swear, you used to hang on my every word."

"I also used to drag around a blanket and chew on my hair," Hermione weakly smiled and gathered her books. "Sorry, Dad, I grew up."

"I don't seem to recall ten being considered 'grown' anywhere," he mused. "And I should hope you're not grown yet. You'll be mistaken for a child until you're old. I suppose the hair might add some height though."

"I'm not dignifying that with laughter," Hermione sang despite barely managing to suppress a giggle.

"You already did," he mimicked her sing-song tone and put an arm around her shoulders as they left the library. "Which I think you might be legally bound to do until you're at least twenty."

"I don't think so," she smirked. "Last I checked seventeen was the age of majority. September first, 1997 and poof, you suddenly have to earn my laughter."

"I'll have you adequately indoctrinated to my way of thinking by then," he teased.

That evening they had both set aside their work to simply hang out and talk. Something Severus could not remember the last time they had done. Both of them were busy and tasks were the ever-present background of their little chats. Shame came over him when he realised the last time he gave his daughter his undivided attention was years ago. Not spying on her, not chastising her, or using tasks to distance themselves. She deserved better from him, but it seemed every time he resolved to do so he fell back into old patterns.

Perhaps she would fare better than he did during her school years. She was sweet, caring, smart and funny. Characteristics he could attribute to some of his own peers that managed to forge lasting friendships and avoid constant abject brutality. If that couldn't protect her from such treatment, he was right there. What could possibly happen?

Hermione,

We're still in lessons. Actually by time I get your reply to this letter we'll have started our August break. Kaori and I will be back home with my mother. So, we weren't quite raised like you, but it is very hard to be the grandchildren of the headmaster! He really pushes us to succeed, and I'll be starting my third year in April. Clubs will be a necessity by then. Kaori is vice-president of the school paper, so I will probably join that.

You spend your summers at the school? That has to be lonely! Mamma's what the British call a muggle, so we spend summer in Tokyo with her and our friends. I haven't read the Son of Hermes books, but if you start reading Mahou Koneko Shoujo! I'll start with yours. Mine's a manga so it'll be easier for you to read than a novel will be for me! Don't let the letters fool you! It takes me forever to write these in English! Though I'm so happy you're trying to learn Japanese! I've sent a book on Japanese for beginners that might help. Kaori says it might be hard for you to get such things in England. In fact, you might want to read that before you read the manga. fufu!

What else can I tell you? I also love cats, I have a calico kitten named Mochi. Growing up with nothing but girls has made me like silly girly things, my favourite snack is...well Strawberry-Green tea Mochi. So, I wasn't creative with my cat's name! Don't make fun of me. My blood type is A, my father was a wizard...I suppose that's obvious given my last letter and my grandfather! I love music and play the piano, and my favourite flower is the sakura. In April the petals fall like snowflakes. So pretty!

Hiro

This was the third letter Hermione received in secret. Reading Hiro's words sent flutters to her heart. Was it the thrill of the secret? Maybe it was the Hiro she imagined. He seemed so sweet and kind. True all she had was three letters, but there was something so sincere and if she were honest, kind of cute about his letters. She was so happy she had to focus on her school work or she would be consumed with the anticipation of his letters. She grabbed her quill and penned her reply.

Hiro,

Japan is so different! Only having one month off and starting term in April? I wonder if the change is overwhelming where you transition between years while you're still boarding. I'm really curious. Pressure to succeed because of family? Oh, do I ever feel that! My Dad's such an academic, I feel like anything less than perfect would be a disappointment. I can't believe I just wrote that! I could scrap the letter and start again, but I feel like I can be honest with you.

I can't wait to start on Japanese, as you can tell by my letters, it's not great! ha ha! I already can read five languages fluently, but this one's really hard. I'll keep practicing my Kanji though! I don't know if I want to join a school club or not. A school paper does sound neat though!

Intimate details after three letters? You might as well start calling me Hermi-chan! Let's see, I don't have any pets, but Dad has an owl named Archimedes, and he is a piece of work! Not cute at all! Snacks...I like fruit, strawberries and oranges. Maybe that's a boring answer. I don't know my blood type, I know that's something you put focus on in Japan, but we don't here. I am curious though, I might ask Dad if he's in a good mood. If not, I won't. I can play the flute, but I'm no great musician. Sakura sounds so pretty! I would love to see them falling as they bloom! My favourite flower, I never thought of it before. I think Lilies are pretty, but I'm biased. One of my middle names is named after them. Of course, my father, being my father, gave me the Latin name of the flower family! Hermione Elizabeth Lilium Snape. My name is so damn long! Picturing sakura blossoms though, if I ever see them in person, I might change my mind.

I'll get to work on Japanese immediately!

Yours,

Hermione

Hermione magically dried the ink and placed the letter in an envelope. She carefully tucked it into her copy of Neko Sensei Teaches Japanese: A Guide for Young Language Learners! She would read that after she finished practising her Defence Against the Dark Arts spells.

Nearly two weeks since she sent her first letter and Hermione had this down to an art. After breakfast, she and her father left together, she went to the library, he went to the staff room. She would set herself up at a table tucked into the stacks near the passage. She read and worked until Hagrid came with around one with either an update or a letter, and Hermione would give him hers. Once he left, she would go to the secret corridor and practice her spells until four. Then she would slip out, reunite with her father and walk to their living quarters as if nothing happened.

She had to restrain herself from skipping as she left the passage. Two hours passed since she wrote her reply and she was absolutely giddy about giving it to Hagrid to send off the next day. Some part of her knew not to be so damn flighty, Hiro might have been nothing like his letters after all. And it's not like the first person close to her age she had extended contact with was a smart decision for her little crush, but...Damn, I will never meet this boy and I have a crush on him? I'm such an idiot... No amount of chastising herself could change her mind. She felt like someone finally understood her. Like someone finally wanted her. Years of being a pest, a chore, in the way, and now someone was excited to exchange letters with her.

Only three letters in and she was already hoping this would never end.

That was why it hit her so hard when it did.

The next morning Hermione set about her usual ritual. Given the empty state of the library, she made an exception to her self-inflicted rules and started on Japanese. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure there were no witnesses and shuddered at what she knew she must do. She grabbed one of the "rescued" volumes of Third Grade Potions that was bound for the fireplace (it reminded her a bit of a volume that nearly disintegrated in her hands). She unbound both books and switched the covers. Now someone would have to be reading over her shoulder to know she was reading Japanese. She would have to burn the other book.

With what little she knew, she started a basic letter to go with her English one.

Hiro!

This might not be good. I started learning Japanese. I can know kanji, hirigana and romanji for some basics. Sakura is a super pretty character! I will read the manga in its Japanese and send a reply with my thoughts. Even if it kills me!

Until Later,

Hermione

She dried the ink and lovingly placed it in her envelope. She couldn't wait for Hiro's reply. She had to stop herself from foolishly beaming at Hagrid when she spied him approaching her table.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Hermione took out the letter. "How are you doing?"

"I-erm-" Hagrid struggled. "I've got some bad news, Hermione."

"Are you okay?" Hermione leapt up and began examining the massive man.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he chuckled, ruddiness returning to his cheeks. "I just have ter-erm-Dumbledore's got me on a special assignment, ya see."

"Oh," Hermione forced a smile as her heart dropped. "Which means you can't help with the letters anymore."

Hagrid's black eyes glinted with warmth and understanding, but also turned away from her. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine!" Hermione squeaked with a grin. "The headmaster is trusting you with something important. I completely understand! Really, it's awfully selfish of me to expect you to play owl between us. Honestly, it's okay!"

"Yer don' seem too-"

"Hagrid, I'm fine!" Hermione insisted. "You worry far too much."

"Are ya sure abou' tha'?"

"Yes!" she squeaked, gathering her things. "I just-erm-I'm not feeling very well. I-er-I have to go!"

Hagrid knit his bushy black eyebrows in confusion before taking her hand. "I can send the letter you have. But yer okay, aren' ya?"

If Hermione looked half as shitty as she felt then he knew the answer. Her face flushed warm, and she imagined it looked something like sakura petals, her chest tightened and her heart throbbed. She felt dizzy, like all the days she spent working instead of feeding herself caught up to her at once. Was disappointment always so crippling? It wasn't as if he'd be gone forever, once he was back they could pick up again, but what if Hiro took the pause...You stupid little girl, she chided herself, it was three letters. This won't change a damn thing and you know it!

"How long will you be gone?" she asked.

"Till September first."

September first! That's...It's not even August yet! Hiro had a whole month of nothing after a whole year of nothing. What if he thought she didn't like him? What if he thought she was upset with him? What if he was relieved he didn't have to send her letters at the behest of his grandfather anymore? That made Hermione's stomach churn.

"Wow," she said. "What's the assignment?"

"I can' tell yer tha'!" Hagrid gasped. "It's a secre' on behalf o' Albus Dumbledore. Meaning no' fer yer ears! Even if yer look like tha'!"

"Like what?" Hermione asked.

"Like a unicorn foal, all big eyes an' such," Hagrid teased.

"You caught me!" Hermione laughed. She had no idea she was doing it. "But I'm really not feeling well, so I should get going. Enjoy your trip!"

This isn't the end of the world, she told herself as she headed to the dungeons. Just write another letter explaining you have to go dark for a month. Say your family owl is sick, you're supposed to be smart. Just think of something...you stupid piece of shit...Hermione never even met the boy. It wasn't Hagrid's fault. It was stupid to be so enraptured after a few letters that she was mad at Hagrid for having a life outside of her cloak and dagger love letters. Love letters! she scorned. "Ugh! I am a stupid bitch!" she muttered to herself, slapping her forehead.

"I don't know whether to chastise you for your language or ask if everything is alright."

"Sorry, sir!" she spun around to meet her father's withering gaze. "I'll watch my language."

"And the reason for your self-degradation is...?"

Hermione shouldn't have to justify that. If she was calling herself stupid it was because she said, did or thought something stupid. How many times had he called her a little idiot? Honestly, she wasn't hurting anyone, so she shouldn't have been chastised for it. "I just can't seem to wrap my head around Gamp's Five Laws. It's written in English, I'm certain. And last I checked I was literate, so I honestly have no excuse."

This was true enough. She had wanted to read the laws to understand the fundamentals of what she did. But reading Gamp's law of Transfiguration did make her feel like a moron...If she was clever than she would understand it.

"Save for the minute fact Gamp's Five Laws is something covered in NEWTs ," he explained, moving a lock of hair out of her face. "So you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Now can you please mind your damn language?"

"Honestly, bird-brain?" Hermione's voice groaned.

A squeaky muffled giggle followed. "Archimedes is an owl, Miss Hermione."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I just... really like squirrels."

"Squirrels is pests, Miss Hermione!" Libby informed her.

Severus was going to miss waking up to this nonsense. Starting tomorrow he would have nothing but silence in the morning. It was true he could simply start taking meals with the other professors, but he'd miss the daily dose of banter. He wondered if she knew how much silly moments like that meant to him. He wondered if they meant as much to her.

He entered the living area to see what triggered Hermione's disgust. The sight of Archimedes digging at a squirrel's entrails on the windowsill would be etched in the poor girl's mind for at least a week. "What happened?"

"Oh, Archimedes is just reminding me why I don't eat meat, eggs or dairy..." Hermione tried a cool observational tone, but her disgust shone through. She turned back to stare at the gorging bird. "Or anything else...ever."

"If it disturbs you so much don't look!" he snapped, turning her to face him. "This is precisely what will land you in the hospital again."

"You do know I don't remem-Nope, sorry, I'm going to be sick!" and with record speed she ran off.

"For the love of-" he sighed, grabbing his wand.

He moved the squirrel corpse out the window and watched the damn owl pursue it. Severus had considered offering Archimedes to Hermione's care, but she would not want anything to do with him for at least a while. How the girl could have been handling organs of various creatures since she was four but she couldn't handle the simple sight of a predator catching prey. Didn't she want a cat? Last he checked they ate squirrels too.

"I swear every damn thing makes that girl sick!" he grumbled, digging one of many anti-nauseate potions he kept in the cupboard.

"Libby is going to check on Miss Hermione," she squeaked awkwardly.

"Don't bother," he said. "She would never forgive me if I sent you in after her like this."

"Miss Hermione is a very private girl," Libby agreed.

"Indeed."

"And Libby will leave after cleaning the windowsill!"

With a snap of her fingers the blood stains and entrails were gone which was followed by another snap and the elf returned to the kitchens.

Severus knocked on the door. "Are you alright?"

Hermione answered with more retching.

"I'm coming in!" he shouted.

"Please don-" and more sick.

He ignored her. Leaning over her he saw that it was almost clear. It's not blood, he thought in relief. That hadn't happened since her lungs were first regrown. Their concern with her lungs made them miss her other patchwork organs. None of the others had to be regrown, but repaired. Had she been raised with the muggles she might have been fine but with a sickly disposition. At least he had to tell himself that. Even with the repairs he didn't trust Hermione was completely better.

"I swear I'll vomit on you," Hermione murmured with what anger she could muster.

"I promise you've made good on that threat in the past many times," he said, kneeling next to her. "It didn't bother me then, it doesn't bother me now. If you've stopped long enough to chastise me, you've stopped long enough to take this."

She nodded and thanked him before gingerly taking the vial.

"I certainly hope this isn't a sign that you'll take poorly to the train ride," he teased.

Hermione had barely gotten the potion down when she started once more.

You idiot! How did you expect her to react? "I'll go get another one. Just stay right where you are."

"Wasn't thinking of going anywhere..." she murmured between heaves.

This was not how he imagined spending their last morning together. Hermione eventually recovered and set about grabbing her things. One trunk, a cauldron and a school bag. Was that really all she had to bring? It wasn't as if she would be truly without if she forgot anything, but glancing round the room he didn't spy anything she would miss. Outside of asking for a cat when she was younger, she never really asked for anything. At least nothing that didn't involve her leaving. Yet, he somehow felt he had not truly provided for her faced with the totality of what she carried. Something he never thought he would be bothered by.

"Do you need help carrying anything?" he asked.

"No thanks, Dad, I got this," she smiled.

He smiled weakly at her and ushered her out. "Alright then, let's catch your train."

Standing on the platform they waited for the conductor to let her board. Hermione held the strap of her bag with a white-knuckled grip as she stared at the plumes of smoke snaking upward to the blue sky. She seemed pale, her doe-eyed expression didn't leave when she turned her head down. Torn between staring at the train and her feet, she reached a middle ground, with chin turned down and eyes staring up. It made him think of an injured fawn that just realised she was on the menu.

"I wonder," he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Just what is going on through that little head of yours. Care to enlighten me?"

Hermione bit her lip and wrung her hands together. "It's stupid, honestly," she shrugged.

"Are you still worried about that nonsense?" he scoffed. "You'll be fine, love."

"Yes, sir," she nodded, eyes now fixed on her hands.

"And still you seem unconvinced." Say something comforting, idiot!

Hermione continued to stare at her hands as she took to digging her nails into the opposite hand. He watched critically for a moment before she saw her draw blood on one of her fingers.

"What about the other little girl you met at Diagon Alley?" he offered, taking her hands. I swear you're more self-destructive than your birth-mother!

"Oh yeah," she squeaked a forced laugh. "I'm just thrilled to reconnect with the girl who within a minute of meeting me called me a stupid, ugly bit-erm-Language, oops."

"She called you what?" he softened his tone while examining the red crescent marks on her hands. "What was this girl's name?"

"It doesn't matter," she sighed. "You did always say kids are cruel. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

I've created a nervous wreck! "I wasn't advocating for complacency, Hermione," he sighed, closing the open wound. "There's a difference between being prepared and acceptance. I certainly didn't raise some withering wall-flower. Don't 'get used' to chronic mistreatment, love."

"Yes, sir," she nodded. "You must be so thrilled not to wake up in the morning to me arguing with Archimedes."

Normally he'd chastise her for changing the subject, but he was happy to take the bait. This was a conversation neither of them were ready for. "Well, it certainly kept my mornings exciting."

"At this point I don't imagine there's any harm in bringing up the fact that I know the professors were betting on what house I'd be sorted into," she forced a smile. "What house did you bet on?"

"Nothing, naturally," he said. "I had no interest in taking part in such nonsense. Do you still have no preferences?"

"I'll settle for a house you don't have a pathological hatred for," she laughed more sincerely. "So anything but Gryffindor."

"I do not have a pathological hatred of Gryffindor," he laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know you'll have a much easier time making friends if they aren't convinced you're a sentient hairball. I knew there was a little girl under there somewhere," he chuckled, tapping her nose.

"You're hilarious," she rolled her eyes with a smirk. "And name one Gryffindor you actually liked."

"ALL ABOARD!" the conductor yelled.

"We'll talk after you've been sorted," he said, kissing her forehead.

"That's cheating," she giggled before hugging him. "I'll see you tonight. Love you, Dad."

"It's not cheating," he said, returning the hug. "It's waiting for more data points. I love you too. Behave."

He watched her board the train with a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. She was in for a long trip to platform nine and three-quarters and back. He didn't see the point in her going when she was already at the school. He supposed Dumbledore had a point in her not standing out during the sorting ceremony, but it cut into what little time he had left. He hated to admit it, but he simply wasn't ready for how different everything would be once the train left the station.