Severus sighed and regarded the class more rambunctious than usual. Last day before the holidays, and the students were all very aware of this.
"I just feel awful," he heard Malfoy say among the noise. "For those who aren't wanted back home for the holidays!"
"Settle down," he said. "I'd like to commence the class some time before the holiday."
That shut the lot of them up. Fourteen heads turned to face him, eyes open and aware.
"Many teachers are wasting their last class before the holidays because they think it's good for you," he told them with an intentional note of frustration. "It's not. But seeing as I am the only teacher with enough sense to see this, I'm putting a stop to the scramble for partners next term. This will be an unfair exercise for those of you who take this class seriously, but I'm done pairing stragglers. This seems an easier method than teaching you to count to thirty."
Everyone looked at each other before turning their gaze to Longbottom. They took his meaning. Random pairings. This would be his approach to first and second year classes from then on. Malfoy raised his hand at the exact time as Parkinson. And so begin the complaints ...
"What if we're already working well with our partners, Professor?" Malfoy asked.
"I admit it's unfair for some of you," he said. "But others," his eyes fell on Longbottom. "Are forcing my hand at the issue."
The chubby little boy squirmed in his chair and turned a violent shade of pink. Glares from students in both houses fell on him and he knew the boy would be blamed for this. Part of him felt pity, but he felt the boy deserved it. Longbottom should at least try to brew one potion correctly. While he was at it he could learn how to write a damn essay.
There was at least one set of eyes not on Longbottom. He expected a nasty glare from Hermione, but instead she skipped that step and went straight to burying her face in her book.
"Miss Parkinson," he said. "You also had a question?"
"Can we trade if we get partners we don't think we'd work well with?" she asked.
Don't you mean partners that will do the work for you? "Afraid not, Miss Parkinson. There will be no changing, no trading, no refusals of work and no whingeing. Am I understood?"
A collective "yes, sir" filled the classroom in grumbling tones. Nobody was happy. That was fine. At least there was one pairing he was happy with. He couldn't think who to rig Hermione with, perhaps the Patil girl, or the Thomas boy, maybe the Zabini boy? That he decided to leave to fate, but he did set Potter and Longbottom up together. Petty, perhaps, but delicious all the same.
"I will call your names in alphabetical order, you will draw a number from this box, once everyone has retaken their seats the numbers will be revealed and you will quickly mobilize to your new pairs and begin the assigned potion for your number. The pair that has made the most progress will be exempt from the two-parchment roll essay on the healing properties of black mamba venom. The last pair will have to write a one-roll essay on the importance of timing."
"The hell!" a voice whispered.
"So unfair!" another whinged.
"I better not get Longbottom!" another grumbled.
"Silence!" he shouted. "Miss Brown, you're up! Today!"
The little blond girl gingerly approached, quickly drew her lot and skittered back to her seat. Everyone did this, including the Slytherins, perhaps catching his mood after questioning him. Yet Hermione, who crept along on the balls of her feet everywhere she went, approached quickly, did not make eye-contact, drew her lot as fast as she could and retreated with equal speed. Still angry I see. I'd love to know what it was I did!
Since the Quidditch match she'd been off. She spoke when spoken to, and as little as she could get away with. Severus was dangerously close to becoming one of those parents that demanded a syllable count. But the girl at least stayed out of trouble. Why are you so difficult?
The class revealed their numbers to yet more whingeing and Severus began to see how the idea could go so awry. Weasley wound up with Malfoy, that was going to be a disaster, but it did put to rest any accusations of rigging the pairs as it was clear he dreaded it as much as the boys did. Brown and Zabini were at each other's throats before they found their new seats, Patil and Finnegan snapped at each other, Crabbe and Goyle somehow wound up together, both clueless without someone else to take charge, and somehow Hermione and Parkinson still wound up together. Thomas and Nott were the only pair that worked well together.
There will be no changing, trading, refusals of work or whingeing! The hell have I fucking done? Lucius Malfoy was certain to send him an unpleasant letter with thinly veiled threats. By the time the class ended only two pairs managed to forgo petty bickering to get work done. Hermione and Parkinson had successfully brewed an elixir of owl-sight using Hermione's methods to speed it along-which led to a smaller yield. Thomas and Nott nearly finished their calming solution, only needing brewing time, but no one else was even close. Potter and Longbottom weren't even the furthest behind. That honour went to Malfoy and Weasley while they sabotaged each other. Why are first and second years paired in the first place?
"You are all behaving like toddlers!" He seethed. "Don't like your partner? I promise you won't like every co-worker you have! If the first class next term is anything like this, I'll be assigning another two-roll essay. Since you are all so averse to team work, I'll be assigning the essays individually, so don't think you can simply help each other. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," the class grumbled.
"I'll be forgoing both the punishment paper and the winning pair will still have to compose the original essay. This will be the last time I attempt a challenge like this. But unless I see blood on the floor, the pairings stick."
"I give it quarter of an hour," Weasley muttered, earning him a snigger from Potter and an eye roll from Hermione.
"Five points from Gryffindor for Mr. Weasley's highly inappropriate comment."
Groans and complaints echoed as the class let out and he set to work on ensuring everything was in order. Once the room was to his liking, which hadn't taken long at all, he decided to head upstairs. To the scent of pine and the sounds of angry childish voices spitting at each other. As he came up the stairs he found Hagrid, hidden by the massive pine he carried before him, and Weasley lunging at a smirking Malfoy while Potter and Hermione tried and failed to hold him back.
Weasley broke free of Potter's grasp as he dove, leaving the boy frazzled but in place.
"Don't let him pro-gah!" the momentum sent Hermione flying forward.
"WEASLEY!" he shouted.
That stopped the boy.
"Fighting, Weasley?" he sneered.
"He was provoked, Professor," Hagrid offered. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."
"Provoked or not, fighting is still against the rules," he sighed. "That'll be another five points, Weasley," he then pointed to Hermione. "And next time you find yourself so provoked, I'd listen to her rather than launch her in an indiscriminate direction!"
Weasley looked at Hermione, the tips of his ears turning pink as he realised what he did. Shame now beat anger as the rest of his face flushed and he turned his gaze to the floor. No consequences would make Weasley give a damn about attacking Malfoy, but he hoped the shame of dragging someone who he claimed was his friend into it and potentially bringing her harm was all-consuming.
A hope that was dashed swiftly as Hermione spoke: "It's fine, Ron, really! I'm not so fragile I can't take a short fall!"
"Get where you're going, the lot of you!" he snarled." Not you! " he hissed, grabbing Hermione's arm before she could leave.
Everyone filed out, going to wherever they were headed leaving the two alone.
"Would you like to tell me just what the hell you were thinking?" he scanned her for obvious injuries and found none. At least you seem fine. "Have you lost your damn mind?"
"Oh, probably," she sighed, folding her arms. "Why do you think I've gone mad this time?"
" Hermione Elizabeth!" he snapped. "What is wrong with you?" And where the hell is this coming from?
"I don't know," she hissed. "My own father thinking I've 'lost my damn mind' might have something to do with it!"
" This conversation again?!" he seethed. "Must you interpret every criticism of your lapses of judgement as accusations you've gone mad? Perhaps you think I should leave you to your self-destructive behaviour in peace?"
" Self-destructive? " Hermione scoffed.
"If you're looking for examples I have plenty!" he snapped. "You nearly got yourself killed by a troll, sneaking around at night, nosing through the business of adults and now you're throwing yourself into fights!"
"I was trying to stop Ron, Dad!" she argued. "I fail to see how-"
"You dove into a fight, Hermione!" he yelled. "I don't care how noble you think your motives were. Have you any idea how reckless that was?"
"For the-" Hermione slapped her forehead. "Nothing would have happened to me!"
"I'm not so confident you aren't stupid enough to dive between them to stop them!"
"Maybe I am!" Hermione hissed. "I'm just a pathetically naive, stupid little girl who lost her damn mind!"
Did the girl keep a bloody record of everything he said to her while chastising her? She glared at him, her tiny shoulders near shaking with rage. Tears sprang to her eyes in some mixture of anger and hurt and it was now apparent why she was avoiding him. I should be surprised this didn't happen sooner, stupid piece of shit!
"Hermione," he sighed trying to level his voice. You're the adult... "The problem is your poor sense of judgement, not you. However, it should not be too much to ask for you to think for a second before doing something reckless! If you have the ability to recall every damn word I've said to you, I'm certain you can consider the consequences of your actions."
"I'm not sure I do recall every word," Hermione glared at him.
Did she find out? He wondered. If no one else knew, how the hell could she know? Were there gaps removing Quirrell's suspicious behaviour left? Did he read somewhere that straining to remember things removed could cause a headache? Maybe Pomfrey found out...but how? If no one else knew, what could have prompted her to try to remember? Maybe she thought his orders to stay in her dormitory when not in class or detention were suspect? All he knew was that she was upset and blamed him for it. If his suspicions were right, she had every right to. "I'm not sure I take your meaning, little girl," he replied coolly.
"It doesn't matter," she sighed, losing what resolve she had, returning her gaze to the floor and, again digging her damn nails into her hands.
"Which is why you're so upset?" he asked, softening his voice and resting a hand on her head. "Clearly, it does matter. Talk to me, love."
Silence. Whatever she had wanted to accuse him of, she had changed her mind. She didn't even look at him, her gaze stayed on the ground as if waiting for it to swallow her. She dug her nails deeper into her hands and she chewed her lip. Regret knotted his throat as he mentally ran over a million different ways this could have been better handled.
Not just this conversation, but also erasing her memory. If she found out she would have every right to never trust him. He saw it now for what it was, a stupid mistake that he could never undo. Hermione paid the price for it... Stupid piece of shit...
"I imagine you'll be wanting to catch up with the Weasleys before they go for the holidays," he sighed. "I have things I need to do. Just be more careful, okay, love?"
"Yes, sir," her voice cracked as she nodded.
She was gone and he wondered just how to repair things between them, or if he ever could.
"We should hit the library," Hermione said as they left Hagrid's.
"Yer holidays are just startin'," Hagrid chuckled. "Bit keen aren' ya three?"
The three of them exchanged glances and Hermione saw the familiar owl flying overhead. Damn, she thought. She cut off Harry before he spoke. "It's one of very few places on my father's list of acceptable places for me to be in when out of classes," she forced a bitter laugh. "We're making the most of it before it closes and I'm stuck in the tower all holiday. I'm not even supposed to be here."
Does Archimedes have a way to communicate that I was here?
"He really is a paranoid prat, isn't he?" Ron scoffed. "What does he expect to happen to you, anyway?"
"Hey!" Hermione elbowed him. "He may be a paranoid prat, but he's my paranoid prat! Only I get to say that!"
The three burst into laughter before Hermione noted the owl flying back to the school. She turned back to Hagird, who now wore a grim expression. He lowered himself to be eye-level with the three and whispered. "Jus' promise me yer not meddlin' anymore inter, erm, tha' stuff."
"Of course we're not," Ron said before a guilt ridden Harry or Hermione could give it away. "Hermione says she'll be pulled out if she steps a toe out of line, so we're all behaving."
"Ge' goin' then," Hagrid's warm smile returned. "I'd hate ter be the reason little Hermione is pulled out."
"'Little Hermione'?" Ron teased as they reached the library.
"Ickle Ron," she sang, opening a book.
"Touche," Ron shut up and turned to his own book.
"How?" Harry groaned after an hour of combing over the books. "How is there nothing on Nicholas Flammel or the philosopher's stone?"
"I don't know!" Hermione moaned, hitting her head to the desk. "I was certain I read something about him before. It's like the Pince took every mention of it from the library!"
"Do you remember anything?" Ron asked. "Anything at all?"
Hermione raised her head just enough to shake it before returning to her face-plant. "I'm so, so sorry!"
"Wait..." Harry mused. "If Pince was instructed to hide every mention of it do you think it would be in..."
"The restricted section!" the three all whispered at the same time.
"Let's get out of here before I'm discovered," Hermione whispered, watching Pince make her rounds. "I'm not actually supposed to be out of the tower."
"When are you and your brothers leaving?" Hermione asked later that night over the chess board in the common room. She was terrible at this game.
"We're not," Ron looked down at the white king he claimed sadly. "Mum and Dad are visiting Charlie in Romania. So we're staying behind."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron," she bit her lip. She recognized that unwanted look in his eyes.
"I was going to ask Mum or Dad about Nicholas Flammel and everything," he sighed. "But you can ask your mum when you visit her, right?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Should be safe to ask her."
"Oh, it'll be perfectly safe," Hermione scoffed with an eye roll. "Considering she doesn't exist!"
"Wait..." both said before exchanging an awkward glance.
" You exist..." Ron choked.
So you really thought I had a mother? "I mean, erm," Hermione blundered. "Yeah, there had to be a woman who gave birth to me, but I haven't the foggiest on who she might be. It's just been me and my Dad as long as I can remember..."
Ron's ear tips turned pink and Harry grimaced, turning his attention to the board.
"If I had a mother in the picture, do you think I would have grown up in the school?"
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said. "We didn't know."
"You never told us," Ron said.
You never asked! "It's fine," Hermione smiled. "I'm certain you've heard the rumours. I figured you'd put it together from those existing."
"Like we'd believe you were found in a box of free kittens!" Ron rolled his eyes.
"Or that Snape made a love potion and charged the witch the resulting child!" Harry added.
"Or that a pregnant woman promised you in exchange for a single head of lettuce!" Ron laughed.
"I didn't hear that one!" Hermione chuckled. "Who the hell gives their child away for a head of lettuce?"
"What about the one where Snape had an affair with a student?" Harry asked.
"He'd have been sacked had that happened," she rolled her eyes. "And I was one when he started. Though those rumours are normally accompanied with me being a whole year younger than he claims I am."
"How about the one where he transfigured one of Mrs. Norris's kittens?" Ron suggested with a laugh. "Or the one where you were found in a Chinese take-away rubbish bin with a bunch of cat skeletons?"
That last one wasn't just cruel, but incredibly racist. Suddenly, Quirrell's kitten comment seemed a whole lot worse. Hermione's stomach churned, she didn't hear that one before either.
"I think there's one where he grew you out of a vat," Harry mused. "And one where he found you in a shipwreck."
"What about the one where Snape dosed a woman with a love potion for years and she abandoned him the minute she came to!" Ron laughed again.
It wasn't just him she abandoned! Hermione wanted to cry. But she didn't even know if that one was true. If it was at all true then the dream version of her mother was accurate in one respect. She wanted nothing to do with Hermione. The boys riddled off a few more ridiculous rumours they've heard ranging from fairy-tale bullshit to international crimes having a good hardy laugh at her father without caring that she was the human being on the other end of those rumours. What did it matter? They had a laugh at the teacher who made them miserable. Hermione didn't know if she wanted to cry or vomit.
"Hermione?" Harry looked at her with that damn pitying look. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she choked, covering her face with her hair. Don't let them see you cry. Weakness will be attacked.
"You sure?" Ron asked. "You look terrible."
"I'm aware I'm ugly, Ron," Hermione tried to snap, but it sounded more like a squeak.
"That's not what I meant," Ron groaned. "You look sick. Pale."
"Just a headache," she lied. "I'm going to bed."
"Are you absolutely certain that's where you want it, headmaster?" Severus asked. "We can place it as soon as we acquire it. I don't like the idea of the Mirror of Erised just sitting where anyone can get to it."
Dumbledore stroked his long white beard and peered at him over his half-moon glasses with a knowing smile. Damn that knowing smile. Let me in on the plan...I'm not a child.
"Severus," he chuckled. "I understand your concerns, but there are parts of the plan only I can be privy to. I'm certain you understand why?"
He did. Everyone protecting the stone only had pieces of the plans. Originally everyone was only supposed to know their task, but changes were made to accommodate placement and they were divided into teams of four, subdivided into two. He wondered why he was the one Dumbledore was trusting with the mirror, but he remained quiet while honour and annoyance warred within him. The Flammels were fine with destroying the stone. They should just destroy it!
"I want it on the same floor as the library," Dumbledore explained. "You'll place it tonight, and keep watch tomorrow night for Quirrell."
"Keep watch for Quirrell..." he said slowly. "Does that mean you believe me? Headmaster, if this is all an elaborate trap can't we do something less risky? If you believe he attacked Potter can't you just sack him?"
"Keep your enemies closer, Severus," Dumbledore stroked his beard again. "He'll do less damage under our watch than out in the world."
"THE MAN THREATENED MY DAUGHTER!" Severus roared, forgetting himself for a moment.
"Hermione is under my watch as well, I assure you," Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "No harm will come to her."
"Oh, the same way no harm will come to Potter?" he scoffed. "Because we know how well that worked out."
"Severus," Dumbledore warned. "I promise nothing will happen to Hermione."
"If anything happens to her..."
"Nothing will happen," he repeated.
"I should have transferred her to another school..." he said. "But it's too late now. If you promise me she'll be safe, I'll trust you."
That night he was tasked with placing the mirror in a classroom across from the library and he kept doing perimeter checks as he positioned the mirror. The dark corridors were dead quiet, his shoes echoing off the stone floor and he suddenly appreciated Hermione's instinct to go barefoot all those mornings. Had it not been so bloody cold he might have done the same. At least he didn't have light from his wand to bounce off the walls. Needing to levitate the massive mirror to move it, Severus opted for an elixir of owl-sight to see.
Exhausted but undisturbed, he entered the empty classroom and set the mirror against a wall. There. All he had to do now was cover the bloody thing and go to bed. He grabbed the white linen cloth and approached the mirror, ignoring the burning curiosity. I don't want to know! If it's Lily and not my child...what would that mean? I can't...but maybe I should know...
The hesitation cost him his ignorance. There in the mirror, he saw himself, tall, thin, pale and greasy hair with his large hooked nose. Apparently he had no desire to be attractive, but on either side of him stood the two most important people in his life. A healthier, younger version of Hermione hung from his hand, beaming, her large brown eyes staring up at him with complete trust. On his other side, Lily rested her head on his shoulder, clinging to his arm, her bright green eyes sparkling with contentment. Both were so happy, and both trusted him completely.
Mirror Lily bent to pick up Mirror Hermione and the two nuzzled into his chest, smiling. Lily would have been a great mother...to Potter. This was fake, this was fake, this was fake! Hermione was a hell of a lot older than four, and Lily was dead. Before Lily died she wanted nothing to do with him, which he himself was at fault for! The happy little lie in the mirror was just that! A lie!
Severus tore his eyes from the mirror and threw the cover over it before he could be drawn in again.
"Dad?" Hermione waved a hand in front of his face.
"Sorry, love," he said, finding his keys. "What was that?"
"I was just asking if you were okay," Hermione took his hand. "Are you?"
"You worry too much, little girl," he sighed.
With a sigh the three of them entered the run-down house on Spinner's End and Severus felt a knot form in his stomach.
"I should just leave the damn thing to rot!" he grumbled.
"It's one month, Sev," Lily rolled her eyes and smiled. "We'll fix the place up and sell it. When you and our little gambler run off to school, if we still haven't sold it, I'll continue trying."
Every detail of his childhood home was identical as it was the day he left. Ramshackle bookshelves, a small kitchen table his mother cowered under during his father's rages, dents in the plaster, and smoke stained walls. He swore he still smelt the booze in the livingroom and kitchen. He didn't want to stay for a second let alone a month.
"Where is Hermione?" he asked, noting she was inexplicably gone.
He turned back to meet Lily and she too had vanished.
"Lily?" he called. "Hermione?"
He lingered at the foot of the stairs as a thousand memories flooded his mind. Not a single one of them was pleasant. It's just a damn house. He climbed the stairs still skipping the third step that always creaked announcing his presence, as if either of them were still alive to cause trouble. Find your family and leave...let the damn house burn.
He paused again at muffled voices at the door to his childhood room. That was the last place he wanted to go. He took a deep breath and drew his wand, resting a shaking hand on the doorknob. He hadn't been back since he was seventeen. Not since... Fuck it! he opened the door and nearly dropped his wand.
"So he finally makes his appearance!" Eileen rolled her eyes, putting out her cigarette.
None of this was real. It suddenly came back to him, Lily never married him, she married Potter, had a son and was murdered...because of him. The marriage, return to his house, his mother standing there. This was all fake! Not that it stopped the blood from freezing in his veins as he watched his mother run her hand through Hermione's hair.
"Hermione," he breathed. "Come here. Now."
"Calm down, Severus," she snapped. "I have every right to meet my own granddaughter! He's always been a complete ingrate. He was such an insufferable child!"
"Really?" Hermione asked.
"After everything I've gone through, too!" Eileen collapsed dramatically on the bed. "Tell me, darling boy, why does this girl have two middle names and neither are mine? Do I mean so little to you?"
Severus opened his mouth to speak but his mother's icy voice continued before he could.
"Of course I do!" she cried. "That's why you abandoned me with your monster of a father! That's why you named your stolen child after your school crush and what she said she ' d name her daughter if she had one!" she laughed bitterly pulling Hermione into her lap. "Can you believe it, darling? After everything I've done for your miserable father, he abandons me and does everything he can to forget I ever existed!"
"You didn't really abandon her," Hermione choked. "Did you?"
"Are you going to lie to her again?" she challenged before turning back to Hermione. "This was your father's bedroom," she pointed to the window. "That's the window he snuck out of when your idiot grandfather had his little tantrums. A very stupid little boy, indeed. And a coward!" she pointed again, this time to a closet. "Oh, and there's the closet I died in after your pathetic father left me all alone. No cheeky response, Severus? Perhaps it's because you know I'm right."
"Oh my, Sev," Lily said, appearing behind his mother, her green eyes aflame and face contorted in anger. "Is there a single person you've claimed to love that you didn't destroy?"
"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
"It's your father's fault I'm dead," Lily's angry eyes didn't leave him.
"Join the club, girl," Eileen said bitterly.
"I did nothing to you!" he snapped. "I was a child!"
"You left !" she seethed. "But then again, you never could think about the consequences of your actions for even a second, could you?"
"I might be alive if he could," Lily scoffed. "I wonder what he'll do to you."
"He's already destroyed me," Hermione sighed. "Or are you still telling yourself it was a couple I've never met?"
"I'm surprised the Weasley twins haven't started a gambling ring with you," her father smiled ruffling her hair.
Pretend this is normal, Hermione told herself. Christmas with your father. Your father who tried to kill your best friend and erased your memory. Perfectly normal! "Yeah," she shrugged. "I turned down the offer when I noticed Archimedes tailing me. Maybe next year."
"And that's another four years before retiring the nanny-owl," he said, gathering the cards. "So you survived first-term. How do you feel?"
Like I'm going to die. "Alright, just hoping 'survive' isn't the word we use next term," she forced a laugh. Act natural.
"You seem ill-at-ease," he noted, raising his eyebrow.
How stupid was it that Hermione wanted to tell him everything? That she wanted to turn to him for comfort and advice when he was the problem? Not that his particular brand of comfort or advice was particularly useful!
"Just tired," she shrugged again. "We were trying this Japanese game Hiro told me about and by time we got the rules straight and we got through a round we noticed the sun was coming up. Apparently I'm not the only obsessive one. You don't look like you've gotten much sleep yourself?"
That was true, his black eyes were once again ringed and his face had even less colour than usual. Thin, disheveled and confused. Who does that remind you of? We're both losing sleep over this.
"First Christmas Eve alone," he said, she didn't think she believed him. "It was strange. Quiet though, that was nice."
"Am I so loud?" she asked.
"You talk to the owl, like he's a person," he smirked. "Tell me, should I be worried?"
"I think he's onto us, Archimedes!" Hermione dramatically whispered.
"So the answer is yes?"
"In my defence, are you ever not worried?"
"Sorry, love," he rested his hand on her head again. "The instant we become parents that's all we're capable of."
"I had no idea all parents were so paranoid," Hermione mused.
"Cautious," he corrected.
A silence passed between them and Hermione bit her nails trying to think of things to do or say. Curiosity burned at her mind and she wished desperately she could ask him about Flamel, or the stone, or why he tried to kill Harry...She bit her lip to avoid muttering to herself. Maybe if she found out who let the troll in, maybe she could clear him somehow...
"Everything alright, love?"
"Did anyone ever find out how the troll got in?" she asked. "It's odd isn't it? That a troll just happens to get in the year you lot hid something valuable on the third floor?"
"Hermione," her father warned.
"Right," Hermione bit her lip nervously, "Sorry!"
"I can't say I'm surprised," he sighed, placing a hand on her head. "Curiosity has always been a weakness of yours."
"I thought it was pity?" Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"Hermione!"
She bit her lip again and fixed her eyes on her clasped hands in her lap. She was supposed to act normal, but she had no clue how to do that. This was the eleventh Christmas she spent with her father, yet she forgot exactly how she acted with him before…He was her father. She trusted him, at least she trusted him sometimes, and he erased her memory then tried to kill her best friend. She didn't even know what normal was anymore.
Please , she begged of every higher power she'd ever read of, please let me be wrong . But she didn't believe that anymore. She could pretend she was friends with Pansy, she could pretend she wasn't hurt by her friends' and classmates' comments, but she couldn't pretend she was at all at ease with her father. She wondered if she ever could…
"You've been living inside that little head of yours for weeks now," he cupped her face and lifted it so she couldn't avoid eye-contact. Since she was small she couldn't stand those black eyes staring into hers with that familiar mixture of anger, concern and pity. "Have you spent the last two months on this? I suppose you think Potter's broomstick mishap is involved as well?"
Hermione wished she could avert her gaze, but instead all she could do was dig her nails harder into the back of her hands and steady her breath.
"I see," he sighed. "Just what do you imagine an eleven-year-old girl can figure out that a group of adults can't?"
"Erm," she began and bit her lip. Idiot! I shouldn't have said a damn thing! He's probably going to erase my memory again!
"Hermione," he moved his arm around her shoulder. "Nothing is going to happen. Whatever you're concerned about, the other professors and I have this handled. And I do believe there are more appropriate matters for you to attend to," he mused and Hermione braced for the subject change, almost grateful for it. "How is the subject I teach your worst subject?"
"I've gotten nearly perfect scores on everything," Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't have a single score under 98% in any of my classes. Save that 95% from you."
"Unlike the other professors," he said. "I'm not impressed that you're literate and happen to know where the library is located. I know you can do better."
Hermione swore in Elvish under her breath. What is wrong with you? Why is this bothering you? Your father tried to kill your best friend.
"Language!" he snapped.
"Elvish," she shrugged.
"That was cute when you were four, but I expect you know better now."
"You have no clue if I was swearing or not," Hermione sighed. "You assumed because I was speaking a language you don't. For example, yare yare isn't taboo in Japanese. It's just a phrase of exasperation."
"And the phrase you used now?"
"You know, Elvish is a very context specific language," she gave a nervous laugh.
She never did get proof of his innocence, but she was able to pretend things were fine for the rest of the day. To her relief, he didn't modify her memory, perhaps because she didn't implicate him, or because she was willing to pretend she never brought it up. She didn't know, but he seemed as distracted as she was as they broke into Twenty Questions, crosswords and sudoku. Did he suspect she was on to him? Maybe she should just have been happy to have no further mention of jinxed broomsticks or trolls.
"It's getting late," her father mentioned checking his watch. "Let's get you back to your dormitory, eh?"
I can walk myself... but instead she nodded with a smile "Ready when you are."
That night Harry told Hermione under his breath about his invisibility cloak ("Don't let Fred and George know!" Hermione and Ron teased.) and Hermione wondered about how his father got ahold of one and who would have kept it on Harry's father's behalf or why they were giving it up now. Harry and Ron both hadn't any answers to these questions. They joined the other Weasleys for a game of Exploding Snap before bed, Hermione purposefully losing a few rounds at the beginning to demolish them later on.
"Is this payback for chess?" Ron asked.
"Payback? Me?" Hermione asked innocently. "I'm a nightmare, Ron, not a vindictive monster!"
"How long are you going to torment me for that?"
"Endlessly," Hermione smirked.
The five of them broke into laughter and Hermione broke into a yawn, stretching. She excused herself to the girls' dormitory and wrote the day's events in precise detail in her journal, she was not going to forget a damn thing. Then she took out a small vile she kept under her bed. Precisely one dose of elixir of owl-sight. Lumos could be found, light bouncing off the walls, a lamp would be stupid. If she was going to break into the library, this was what she needed. She still had to be careful, or rigging her fathers pairs so she and Pansy would be assigned the owl-sight elixir would have all been for naught. Though after that last disastrous class she wished she rigged all the pairs...
At midnight Hermione drank the elixir and crept barefoot to the library. She dodged Filch a couple of times, and managed to find her way to the entrance without incident. She melted into the shadows, shrinking along the walls and bookshelves until she reached the Restricted Section.
" Alohomora ," she whispered, jealous of the ability to cast silently.
She snuck in and made her way through the towering stacks with her colourless but amplified sights set on Artifacts, Alchemy and Famed Wizards. She started with dark artifacts. She hadn't one mention of the stone or Flamel after skimming through the table of contents and footnotes of twenty books. She had however come across mention of something called horcruxes and her stomach churned. Who would split their soul...
She shuddered and placed the books back as she turned to alchemy. It was a far cry, but some artifacts were either made via alchemy or were desired because of alchemy. She scanned the spines and spotted a promising book Alchemical Artifacts: Use and Creation. She stood on frozen tip-toes to pull it from a shelf when a scream shattered the silence.
Hermione froze. Who screamed? Who else was in here with her? Move, Hermione! You're needed! Go! But she had to force her feet to move. Once she built momentum she found the ability to fly in the direction of the scream and glass shattering.
She found at her feet a dropped book and shattered lamp, but no one accompanied it. She drew her wand and spun around looking for the culprit, ready to defend herself when a hand grabbed her wand arm and another clapped over her hand. Hermione's heart pounded as she found herself being dragged behind a bookshelf and underneath a strange veil.
"Shh!" a voice hissed.
Hermione struggled to free herself but only achieved facing the green bespectacled eyes of her captor.
Harry moved his hand from her mouth and pressed a finger to his lips. Hermione nodded and the two of them crept back.
"Professor?" they heard Filch's voice. "You asked me to come straight to you if anyone was milling about at night?"
Hermione's heart returned to it's horrified thudding as she heard her father's voice reply. "The library? They can't have gone far."
The two sped into an empty classroom and waited for the footsteps to pass. Hermione no longer held any suspicion for the invisibility cloak. She couldn't tell if she was lucky or unlucky for Harry to have been there. But for now, she was just happy she wasn't going to spend another eleven years locked in a room "for her own protection".
"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing at the gold-framed mirror in the centre of the mirror.
Hermione examined the words on the frame. Bloody anagrams. It read The Mirror of Erised and she couldn't be certain, but she thought the text below it in scrambled letters read be careful what you wish for . The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and gooseflesh rose on her arms. "Harry, don't!" she hissed trying to hold him back.
It was too late. Harry had lifted the protective cover of the invisibility cloak from them and stood at the mirror. Leaning in close he examined it, she wasn't sure, but she thought his eyes glistened and his face paled. A weak smile broke on his face, and he touched his shoulder as if touching another's hand.
"It's not real," Hermione whispered.
"Hermione," he said with a broken voice. "I-it's my parents."
"Harry, I don't think..."
Hermione bit her lip. How could she drag him from his dead parents? But she had to. She threatened to leave without him. Eventually, Harry did break away and the two made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.
The next night Hermione tried to stop Ron and Harry from making their journey to the cursed mirror. When she failed to stop them she followed them and she wished she didn't. She shushed Ron who moaned about his cold feet, despite the slippers she'd told the boys to ditch, and under the light of her wand she could see the blue beds of her toenails. She, in turn, was hushed by her insistence that this was a bad idea and they were faced with the gold mirror glinting in the moonlight, beckoning each of them forward.
"I don't see anything but you, Harry," Ron said, sharing a concerned look with Hermione.
"Harry," Hermione spoke. "I, erm, look, it's, erm, hard to hear, but please, it's an illusion."
"Maybe if you two stand where I am?" Harry suggested pulling Ron to his spot.
"Ron, Harry, please!" Hermione bit her lip.
"That's my-"
"I don't see your parents, Harry," Ron said.
Maybe it wouldn't curse him?
"I see myself, but different!" Ron explained his vision in great detail with excitement. To Harry's dismay he did not see either of their families, but instead, he saw himself as Head Boy, holding the quidditch cup. A desire Hermione did not expect him to have, Ron beamed at his imagined self before turning to Harry. "D'you think it shows the future?"
Hermione opened her mouth but Harry spoke first. "How could it? My parents are dead..."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. "It's-"
"What do you think you'd see?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, come on then!" Ron agreed.
"No, I don't want to know!" Hermione backed up, but both boys had her arms and all but dragged her before the mirror.
She shut her eyes. "Whatever I see won't be real. I can't..."
Hermione opened her eyes. She didn't know what she expected, but she choked on a lump in her throat as she beheld her vision. It's not real...
The mirror rippled, as if it couldn't decide what to show her at first, split second images of a bushy-haired Black woman and a short pale East Asian man with eyes like hers were followed by an image of her father approving of something she'd done, then by her friends, including Hiro and Kaori, around her. It decided to settle on all of them, gathered around her, happy that she was in their lives. She had no idea what it was like to have someone be proud of her, or if anyone wanted her, but she suspected she felt that now. She was wanted...how pathetic of a desire was that? And did it take so long for the boys to see their images?
"We need to go," she choked.
"Come on," Ron groaned. "Tell us what you see!"
"Friends who don't drag me in front of cursed objects!" she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Let's get out of here."