Hermione reread the instructions on the expandable charm in the library's volume of Spacial Magic: Beyond Physical Space. It was far beyond her level, but having poured over it for the twenty-first time, she felt she had it down.
"Interstitia Athereum," Hermione tapped her wand to her bag.
She tested it by shoving the most important book, Forensic Necromancy, into her bag. The canvas messanger bag didn't grow in volume or heavier with the book. Hermione deemed it a success and began shoving the other books into the bag. She then proceeded to pack her ink and parchment for the replication spells. That was when Crookshanks flopped on top of the brown bag with a defiant meow.
"Crookshanks," she hissed. "I have to do this."
Crookshanks looked at her before stretching and yawning. He curled up on top of the bag. Even without the ability to communicate with cats, Hermione would have known exactly what this meant.
"I'll sneak salmon into the common room," she coaxed with a sing son voice. "Please?"
Not a chance.
"Ugh!" Hermione groaned. "I'll tell you how to catch the red dot?"
It's light from your wand.
"You knew that?" Hermione buried her face in her hands. "You don't-look I-Crookshanks, I need this."
Crookshanks rose from the bag, but instead of leaping off the bed or walking to the foot of it, he crawled into Hermione's lap and rubbed his face against her hands. Hermione parted her hands to pet the giant cat wishing he understood why she had to do this. She had this one chance to get her answers. She wondered how to explain that to him and a large fluffy paw touched her cheek. That was when Hermione realized she was crying.
Crookshanks stretched on his hind legs and placed his paws on either shoulder. The cat then began to lick her tears. Hermione scratched either side of Crookshanks's neck. After some moments passed, the cat leapt down and Hermione had his blessing to leave.
I need a fucking cat's blessing? Hermione rolled her eyes and placed her bag over her shoulder. "I owe you, Crookshanks. You're a good boy." she bent to kiss the top of his head.
I'm the best boy.
"This is strange right?" Lupin asked.
"Extremely," Severus acknowledged, pouring Lupin whisky. "Or we're simply too sober."
"I'll drink to that," Lupin sighed in good humour. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
Severus eyed the man sitting across from him. So thin and frail, with an empathetic gleam to his pale green eyes and smile. The whisky had put colour in his nose and cheeks. Severus still had very mixed feelings about the bastard, but one thing was certain.
"You're very good with Hermione," he observed. "My daughter hates all adults, I'm surprised she's taken to you at all."
Lupin set his drink down. "If this is another 'stay the hell away from my daughter speech-"
"Merlin help me," Severus sighed. "It's the opposite. It hasn't-" he downed his own whisky and sighed. "It hasn't escaped my notice that I don't have friends. Which means if something were to happen to me..." Severus got up and folded his arms over his chest. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm about to say this...I want you to take her if I die."
"What?" Lupin choked. "Severus are you-there has to be someone-what about my condition? What about Dumbledore?"
That was a conversation he had before as well...
Severus blew bubbles in Hermione's direction.
The eighteen-month-old giggled clapping her tiny hands over it. He moved to lather shampoo in her bushy hair as the happy toddler watched the suds slosh around her in the cauldron. Hermione picked up the rubber duck and examined it with interest.
"What's that, love?" he asked pointing to it.
"Fuck!" she squealed.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Duck," he corrected, emphasizing the 'D' sound.
"D-duck!"
"Yes." He sighed in relief. Hermione had a habit of not saying things until she had them perfect, which made him unsure how many words she actually knew. She liked making full sentences, typically three words. He should have been happy she was comfortable practising with him.
A knock came on the door.
"Shit!" Hermione breathed.
"Hermione Elizabeth!" he snapped.
Hermione's response to this was to disappear beneath the bubbles.
"Forget it," he sighed, wrapping her in a fluffy pink towel. "You're not even two yet, you don't understand do you?"
Hermione looked confused and shook her head.
It didn't matter. When Hermione was older he'd hold her accountable. For now he just hoped this wasn't foreshadowing a struggle later.
"Come in!" he shouted throwing a flannel dress over a now dry Hermione.
Dumbledore walked in with a smile on his face peering over his half-moon spectacles at the two of them. "You asked to see me, Severus?"
"I did, thank you," he nodded. "Just let me get Hermione to bed. It would seem my timing's off."
"That's quite alright," Dumbledore said taking Hermione from his arms. "Come see Uncle Albus."
"I've asked you not to call yourself that," he muttered, but it did warm his heart to see him doting on the little girl. "Though it was Hermione I wished to speak with you about. I want you to be her guardian if something were to-"
"I'm going to stop you there, Severus," the smile vanished. "I'm over half a century your senior. Unless you're ill, you'll outlive me. Perhaps someone else-"
Severus shook his head. "There's no one else. I don't know anyone, and you're so good with her. The times I've come back from a mission-and there's your reason you may just outlive me-"
Dumbledore flinched.
"But I see you with her sitting peacefully in your lap with sweets you think I don't know about," Severus said. "You could be good for her. She adores you."
"And I her," Dumbledore nodded with a sigh. "For the record I have every faith that you'll outlive me. But should the worst happen and there's no one else, I'll take her."
Hermione stirred and reached out for Severus.
"Come to Daddy, love," he cooed, lifting her and pressing his forehead against her little one.
Had Severus known Dumbledore would forget his affection for the girl and make decisions that disadvantage her for Potter's benefit (such as advancing her just to give Potter a leg up in the prophesied fight.), he would never have asked.
He knew Lupin would choose Potter of his daughter as well, but he also trusted the man not to knowingly jeopardize her. He cared for the girl, perhaps because Hermione was a bit like him at that age, at least the good parts. He despised the man-or he at least wanted to continue despising him-but he couldn't deny with Dumbledore out and McGonagall's refusal, he was the best option.
"The thought crossed my mind," he admitted. "It didn't pan out as planned. And you're condition...that does complicate things. Believe me, if I had anyone else-"
"The Weasleys?"
"That's not happening," he thought of Ron Weasley and his inclination to blame every little thing that went wrong on Hermione.
"Lovegood?"
"I actually care about what happens to my daughter in the event of my death, thanks," Severus scoffed.
"Ouch," Lupin commented. "I'll do it. She's knows I'm a werewolf and how to avoid me should the worst happen. But you'll forgive me if I say I hope I never have to rise to the occasion."
"You and me both, Lupin," he agreed pouring another glass. "I hate that I can't be with her right now. She hates hospitals."
"Hermione's perfectly capable of spending a couple weeks in a hospital over night, Severus," Lupin reminded him. "I'm sure she's just fine."
"Perhaps you're right," he sighed.
Hermione padded down the corridor silently with her supplies. Grateful for the vision her cat eyes granted her. Security on the pediatric curse wing was lacking. That was good. She ducked behind walls the few times she found healers milling about. Hua's last check in on her was an hour ago. She didn't expect anyone else until six. That gave her five hours to get to the morgue, find and replicate the relevant files and just wished she had a similar understanding of the other wards on the way to the basement.
"Candice?" a female voice said.
Hermione ducked behind the rubbish bins for once grateful for her tiny stature. She peaked her eyes out to see the two healers discussing.
"Oh, hi, Mary," Hua sighed.
Mary was thin Scottish Black woman with braided hair of an age with her father. She looked concerned. "I thought you were off an hour ago. Isn't there only one pediatric patient?"
"Yeah," she nodded. "I was just about to leave. I've been-can you keep a secret? It's-erm-about a patient."
"As a colleague I'm obligated to tell you that's horribly unprofessional," she warned. "But as your best friend, I can tell your troubled. Talk."
"In a way, it must suck for professionalism that we all grew up together," Hua mused. "Do you remember Severus Snape from school?"
"How could I forget?" Mary rolled her eyes. "Never met such an arse in my life. Him and his death-eater wannabe pals. I felt bad for him after what Sirius Black did, but he was just so-" Mary sighed. "You know he all but stalked my friend Lily during our sixth year? I can hardly believe they let that man teach. My daughter starts next year and I'm honestly wondering if home-schooling is better."
"I was a couple years below you, but I remember he was difficult," Hua sighed. "Fuck, stalking?"
Hermione could hardly believe it either. She couldn't believe any of what she was hearing. That he was unliked in school, sure, but that he hung around with Death Eater wannabes? Her father couldn't stand Death Eaters or blood supremacy. How could he-she knew he wasn't a saint. Hermione's world came crashing down around her. If he hung around them in school could he have-
No!
And the stalking...was Hermione named after someone he stalked? What if this Lily girl was her mother? What if she didn't want to be? Hermione's stomach churned, unsure which bit of information was worse to take in. She felt the colour drain from her face and the room spun. She dug her claws into her clapsed hands and dug her pointed teeth into her lip. She had to process this later. She at least had to try for her answers.
"Well I'm treating his daughter," Hua said.
"Who would have children with that?" Mary scoffed. "I bet she's a nasty bit of work-"
You don't know how right you are...Hermione thought glumly.
"Mary!" Hua snapped.
"Sorry," she sighed. "I'm being a bitch. Snape just brings out the worst in me."
"She's actually a sweet kid," Hua shrugged. "And I can't stand him. You had to attend class with him. I get it. Anyway, I treated her before. When she was ten-months old."
Hermione perked up and listened keenly.
"She was dying. She'd been brought a few times after that, but I wasn't the practising healer. There was nothing, literally nothing on this little girl before he brought her in. I know why, but it's still highly suspect. Then she comes in and I'm told she doesn't know? I don't know if I should tell her...it's not my place. And she's...I don't think Snape was completely honest about her circumstances and I'm not sure what to do about it."
Hermione didn't know what to make of this either. She wasn't even sure there was anything to make. She hoped her file would say more. Candice Hua just gave her enough to doubt everything and not enough to learn what she needed.
"Candice," Mary said. "Do you suspect abuse or something illegal?"
Hua bit her lip and looked to the ground. "I don't know. At least I don't think I suspect abuse. But this girl appeared from thin air and he changed his story had holes."
"Do you have proof?" Mary asked.
Hua shook her head.
"I hate to come to Severus Snape's defence," Mary sighed. "But without proof you might not want to split the two up. You could do more harm than good. But keep your eyes open."
Hua nodded. "I will."
"Go get some sleep," Mary instructed.
"You know," Hua smiled over her shoulder. "You were a terrible girlfriend, but a great best friend."
"It's shit like that that makes Tom question our friendship!" Mary cackled.
"I know," Hua winked.
Hermione waited till the coast was clear before progressing to the basement. One could call it uneventful, but Hermione's mind raced, mulling over what she'd overheard. She appeared from nowhere, her father's story was suspect...Hermione's stomach churned as she wondered about Lily once more. She couldn't believe her father would...but stalking...He was sixteen...I was born when he was 21, he's probably over-I share a name with this woman. Does that mean...
She put it from her mind. She had to. Hermione crept down the corridor and vowed to track down the enrolment list for 1971. She could see the names and go down the Lilies in his year one-by-one. For now, she would get what answers she could.
Finally, Hermione made it to the tall, solid steel door that separated the morgue from the rest of the hospital.
Ew, that's so on the nose, Hermione thought literally facing the separation of life and death. Which was, of course, fucking locked!
"Alohamora!" Hermione whispered.
What the hell did you expect? It was of course charmed against Alohamora. Murder victims could be easily tampered with, not all people looking to break into the morgue were little catgirls searching for answers. Hermione knelt at the gaudy lock and pulled out a darning needle. She examined the lock shape carefully. With hundreds of magical adults, Hermione's trace wouldn't go off. She sketched out possible key templates based on the lock shape.
She transfigured the needle several times. Exhaustion nearly over took her, her head pounding and muscles growing weak as she finally got the key right. She lifted the large, bronze key with old-fashioned prongs and ringed handle. This top of the line enchantment was about to be breached by a simple Victorian key. Hermione didn't trust it was that simple and braced herself for some magical backlash as she inserted the key.
An audible click sounded in Hermione's ear as the lock released. Part of her was disappointed, wanting to use her cat-hearing to suss out a combination, but she was in. Exhausted, but in.
It was freezing. Hermione's hairs stood on end as she walked into the room. Surrounded by rows of locked cabinets barely visible even with her cat-vision, Hermione moved forward with the knowledge that each cabinet contained a body. Worse was a single person-corpse- laying on a stretcher covered with a white linen cloth. Hermione shuddered and slinked forward with her ears down and bushy tail low.
Keep moving forward, she gulped, pressing forward with only white puffs of breath to keep her company. This place should be crawling with ghosts, why isn't it?
Hermione concluded some warding might have been responsible when she finally made her way up to the office door. Hermione tried the knob with surprising success. They didn't see fit to lock it, that or Hermione's potion was mixed up with a Felix Felicis that day. Either way, Hermione counted her blessings as she crept into the room.
The office wasn't too dissimilar from professors' offices at Hogwarts. Expandable charms must have been put on the filing cabinets. She lit her wand and scanned the labels on each year. She searched 1981 morgue files first. It wasn't hard to find the files from there. It appeared that despite appearing like an open and shut case, protocol dictated the victims of public magical deaths be consulted with a Death Speaker. Something the media neglected to mention. She started with Ethel Wickham's, the eighty-year-old victim, file.
She pulled out the volume on Forensic Necromancy and flipped to Death Speech recordings. She scanned the file as warmth returned to her body. She got the surrounding information and paid particular attention to the cryptic nature of conjured spirits. What they managed to get from Wickham was:
"The vermin scurries from his guilt"
Cryptic and unbelievably short, Hermione internally groaned.
Moving on to the next few, she had little luck. Many seemed to be messages for loved ones. It was unfortunate they were obvious enough to glean that, but too cryptic to derive an exact message. Hermione had to take a break after read Tomas Purdy's file. A ten-year-old dead because he was collateral damage. She took a deep breath and continued after a moment.
Mayakavski, Misha A. 53
The rat escapes the hound to the serpent's embrace.
Cromwell, Olivia M. 22
Desperate vermin cleaves soul from flesh
Those last two were nails in the coffin. Hermione had her proof. She copied the files so she could have the surrounding information and stashed it in her bag. She sighed in relief. Once she showed Harry and Ron this, they had to believe her. three of the victims alluded to vermin and rats. That had to mean something.
Hermione's mood renewed, even if her body still cried in exhaustion. She moved from the morgue files to the hospital's. Her hearth thudded in her chest as she combed through the July 1981 files. Perhaps she could fill in the gaps that Candice Hua left burning in her skull.
At last! She sighed in relief as she came upon Pediatrics 0-12 months. Names blurred together until she finally found her name. Snape, Hermione Elizabeth Lilium.
This is it! She opened the file with baited breath, her heart pounding...
File Reclaimed 31, July 1991 by Snape, Severus.
File Reclaimed! she wanted to scream. No, you have what you came for. You can snoop around Dad's office when you get back. With any luck he didn't burn it.
Anger swelled with in her and the exhaustion from casting, stress and the cold caught up with her. She had what was important, so why was she so crushed? The only thing that mattered was stopping Pettigrew...that was the only thing that should matter.
She shivered walking through the long frozen chamber. Shuddering as she passed the body covered with a linen shroud, she pressed forward. It's just a body, It's just a body, it's just a-they were a person once.
Hermione fought the exhaustion and shrank her bag so she could wear it beneath her dressing gown. Dodging the few security guards and healers making their rounds, Hermione thought she was Scott-free.
She nearly made it to the permanent patient's ward when she heard the lift ding. She dove behind a rubbish bin and waited for the two healers chatting to finish. She wasn't sure how long she'd waited when her eyelids drifted shut. She dug her claws into her flesh and bit her lip, doing everything she could to keep herself awake.
Please don't let me get caught, was the last thing she thought before exhaustion got the better of her.