Disclaimer:- I neither own nor own anything from this story. My plot is my own but the world of Harry Potter is the intellectual property of JK Rowling and associates.

oOo

Chapter Two – Unjustly Targeted

Throughout the years one thing never really changed, Hermione still loved the laid back weekends at The Burrow, because even as they'd grown up and moved on with their lives little about these family weekends had altered. In fact, they were made happier now by the fact that most of the many Weasley children had provided grandchildren to add to the joy.

Now days it almost astounded her to think that once she had been hoping she might have been a proper part of this loving family as well, and she scoffed at her own naivety over her very much expired school-girl crush on Ron. If there was one thing she knew for certain now, it was that Ronald Weasley was not the right wizard for her as she had once thought he might be so long ago. Her eyes wandered to where Harry and Ron sat talking, as her mind's eye brought into focus a picture of what she thought her idea of marital bliss would currently be, and that image was all dark flashing eyes and raven hair. Yes, she'd finally given up on thinking that she didn't fancy Severus Snape, even if she did think herself foolish in the extreme for her feelings.

It didn't mean that she thought she was that smart about the situation either, and she sighed to herself and clamped down on what her mind was showing her as she also considered how unlikely it was that she'd ever have that ending. Yes, her obsession with Severus had never really relented, in fact, she considered that it was stronger now than it ever had been. The problem was she knew exactly how futile those thought were, but no amount of logical thought was going to convince her that she needed to banish them.

However, just as she thought she had no chance with the wizard her heart had settled on, she also very much feared that Ron had mucked up his chance at his true happiness as well. She still couldn't see what he'd done wrong where Lucy was concerned, and it bothered her more than she was going to admit, but she didn't know what else to do about it. In any case, he seemed to have moved on, as he was about to marry for the second time.

Hermione glanced at the platinum blonde talking with Fleur and Angelina, and Hermione couldn't help but be disappointed that it was not Lucy he'd made up with. It was still such a mystery, and she was just as certain that there was something off about it all, except that none of them could pin-point what it was.

Lucy, had seemed Ron's perfect match, and in some ways, Hermione had seen a lot of herself in the friendly American witch. She still missed her and she knew that Ginny did too, as the three witches had been great friends while Lucy and Ron had been together. However, she was brought back from her thoughts as Victoiré pulled on her arm. "It's your go, Auntie Hermione," the small double of Fleur said to her.

"Oh… oh yes," she replied. "Sorry, guys." Hermione was playing Hopscotch with some of the Weasley children. However, as she turned back to their game, she did not know that a misunderstanding about her was going to lead somewhere entirely unexpected, as an overheard conversation was about to be very misinterpreted.

It was the beginning of the summer holidays, which in the scheme of things did not mean a lot. However, what it did mean was that this particular weekend was special because all the kids were back from Hogwarts, and everyone made an extra effort to have a true family gathering.

Ron and Harry were sitting back with their butterbeers and watching Hermione playing with all the children as they sat talking, but Harry was troubled. Over this last year, Ron had changed, and then there was Lavender... Something was definitely not right, but even he couldn't put his finger on what that could be. Harry couldn't fathom why Ron had suddenly become so interested in Lavender Brown again, let alone why he'd agreed to marry her; she drove him crazy.

It was all very weird. Ron and Lucy had seemed very happy, but Lucy had cited irreconcilable differences when she'd divorced Ron and moved back to America. The biggest problem was that by the time of the divorce Ron had all but given up, and he hadn't bothered to ask what she thought was so irreconcilable, because he was just generally devastated.

Suddenly, Harry focused on Ron, who was looking at Hermione's backside in a most inappropriate way. "Ron!" Harry gasped, shocked to see his best mate's ogling of their friend like that. "You shouldn't be looking at 'Mione like that."

"What! I'm not… I would never look at 'Mione like that again… ever, we're mates now… I was just thinking about L-Lu…" Then he flinched and changed his mind, shrugging. "Never mind…" and his voice trailed off.

It was true, from the back Hermione was very similar to Lucy. They were both small in stature, and had a head of copious brunette curls, and seeing the look of longing that had been on his friend's face, Harry had to ask. "You are happy with Lavender, aren't you?"

Ron's face twisted, and he suddenly looked resigned, and he sighed. "Yeah, sure," he answered. "But I've... Have you ever noticed that 'Mione and Lucy are very similar in looks?"

"In looks, yes, but Ron… They have nothing else in common, mate."

"Yeah… I know, but you know, sometimes I wonder if we were just too young. Maybe now might be different."

"Geez, mate. That's a pretty dangerous way of thinking."

"Me and Lucy, I mean," Ron clarified.

However, what neither man saw was Lavender watching what had just taken place. She'd been about to approach Ron, but she'd stopped dead when she'd heard what they'd been discussing. However, from her position where they didn't notice her, she only heard part of what was said, and she instantly saw red and jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion. Her eyes narrowed, and she didn't focus on the remainder of their conversation, only on Hermione.

Lavender had always thought that Hermione Granger was an annoying thorn in her side, ever since their sixth year at Hogwarts. She blamed her for her breakup with Ron the first time, and she suspected that she'd had something to do with the second time they'd broken up too. The blonde witch did not stop to think that it could have been her fault they'd broken up, Lavender was the type of person who blamed anyone but herself for anything that didn't go her way. Well, no more, she thought, as she wondered about a way of ridding yourself of the problem that was Hermione Granger. It was something that she'd heard about just last week when setting up one of her 'entertainment' gigs.

While she was thinking on this, Ron and Harry had stopped talking and appeared to be consumed each by their own thoughts.

Finally, Harry sighed. "But you are happy with Lavender?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Ron replied, but then he sighed too.

"Don't you ever wonder what happened to change Lucy?" Harry asked.

But as usual, Ron clammed up. "I think I need some air, mate," and he got up and wandered off in the direction of the tub of butter beer.

As he watched his friend walking across the yard, Harry's Auror senses were on high-alert, as they always were when they talked—or rather—didn't talk about Lucy. It was not like Ron to not want an explanation about something, especially something this serious. It was really strange. It was also very strange that nobody seemed to know what had happened between Ron and Lucy to cause the original problem.

Harry's eyes scanned for Lavender; his lip curled slightly when he saw her chasing after Ron. Just after the divorce, Lavender had turned up out of the blue, and Ron had taken up with her again… Well really, she'd bullied him into it, Harry considered, and Ron would not hear anything said against her.

The whole conversation he'd just had with Ron was making him very uneasy all over again, just like it always did. He just knew that there was something going on that he hadn't fathomed yet. It was this sixth sense that made him such a good Auror, his gut told him when things weren't right, and right now his gut was very unsettled, but as usual there was nothing he could do about it because there appeared to be nothing really wrong.

Then Harry glanced at Hermione; she deserved better than she had too. Although, she says she's happy, he often wondered why she'd never taken up with anyone. It was not like she hadn't had offers, and she didn't know it, but he knew about her little summer flings, and he wished that something would happen for her in that direction. He exhaled a long breath, and smiled at her as he watched her playing with the kids, and he wished that something would allow her to find what she longed for on top of all of her academic achievements.

Being a teacher suited her, but that was Hermione; she was far more suited to the halls of learning than being married to some ordinary bloke, and there in a nut-shell lay the problem; she would need to find someone equally as brilliant, and as 'not ordinary' as she was. She was just too different, and he liked to think of it as special, but it didn't stop him from wishing that his female best friend had everything that he had.

He glanced at Ginny, heavily pregnant with their third child and his heart sang. He just knew that Hermione would make a wonderful mother, like his Ginny was. His eyes turned again to Hermione playing with everyone else's children and this time he saw the spark of sadness in her eye; it was often there and he'd frequently wondered what it was. An unknown something, and he wondered if it could be want, or envy of everyone's happiness as she sat on the sidelines watching. While he knew that Hermione would never harbour resentment towards any of them for having what she did not—she had a sweet nature—he couldn't help thinking that she must be lonely. It must be difficult for her, watching everyone else settling down and having a family when she was so alone.

Finally, Harry got up and wandered over towards where Hermione had finally happily flopped down next to Ginny with the cold drink his Ginny had just handed her.

"You'd make a wonderful mother," Harry heard his wife saying as he approached them.

"Sure," was Hermione's snorted response, and she took a gulp of the drink in her hand. "You have to actually have a social life for that, Gin, and you know I'm pants at that."

"Hey, cheer up, 'Mione. I've always told you that you'll meet someone one day," Harry said, plopping down next to Ginny and giving his wife a kiss on the cheek as he did so.

"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione said, smiling absently. "I have most of the things I could ever want."

This was Hermione's standard answer to any questions about her happiness, and it often made them wonder what would happen if she did meet someone and experienced the love that they knew existed, even if she didn't.

xox

In the two weeks following the family dinner at the Burrow, Harry and Ginny went for a babymoon getaway, and Molly was happy to have James and Albus while the pair were away, as well as anyone else's children who wanted to stay.

Hermione set about preparing for next year as Hogwarts closed down for the summer. This was her favourite time of year, balmy days and cool summery breezes at night. There always seemed to be a breeze in the upper reaches of the castle, no matter how oppressive the heat in other parts of it was. This year she was planning a restful summer and no overseas trip, apart from the fact that she was sad this summer, she'd just finished one research project, and she wanted—no she needed—some time to herself.

She'd calculated that the man that she'd silently fallen in love with would have been released from Azkaban this last May, and even though she hadn't written to him for a very long time now, she realised that she had been holding out hope that he might have returned to Hogwarts on his release. Of course, he hadn't, and he was probably long gone now away from England and Scotland, and she wouldn't blame him, because no one had seen or heard hide nor hair of him, not even Minerva.

She rose from her desk as she thought about it and walked to the windows trying to swallow down the hurt that had just blossomed inside her. Surely she deserved something more than this in life, and she found her emotions overcoming her control.

Today was just about the perfect summer's day, and Hermione had all her windows open as well as the door to her office. She was so engrossed in her work that she jumped slightly when someone spoke.

"Ah, Hermione, hard at work I see," Minerva McGonagall said as she knocked on the open door. Apart from the librarian, the two Gryffindor witches were the only other two residents in the castle this week.

Hermione smiled. "Hello, Minerva," she said, quickly banishing her tears before turning around. "Yes, I'm hoping to get everything under control so that when Harry and Ginny's baby arrives then I can spare the time to help them out with James and Albus."

Minerva smiled. "A noble ambition, my dear."

Returning a smile that didn't quite make it to full fruition, she nodded. "Can I tempt you to a drink, Minerva?"

Minerva sighed. "I'm afraid not, dear. As much as I hate to admit it that blasted healer was correct."

Hermione nodded. "Tea then?"

Minerva huffed. "Tea," she repeated.

Minerva had not been at all well this last winter, and the malaise seemed to be chasing her into summer. She was under the care of a specialist healer for a heart condition that had made itself known during her illness, and to put it bluntly, Hermione was very concerned about her.

Hermione prepared the tea and turned back towards her still pale friend. "But you are feeling better, aren't you?"

"Yes, dear. I'm fine, there's a lot of years left in me yet," she replied, and saluted Hermione with her cup. "To health," she said.

Hermione replied. "Health," and they both drank.

xox

Later that afternoon Hermione apparated to Harry and Ginny's gateway intending to water their garden for them and generally check on the house, she may not have been as alert as she usually was, as she was quite preoccupied with all the things troubling her mind. She just stared at the gate latch when it came off in her hand, and it took her a few moments to gather her wits together when it started to glow. By the time she'd felt that hook feeling behind her navel, it was all too late to do anything about it.

The next thing she knew the metal latch clanged onto a floor, and she landed hard on her hands and knees on cold wet stone. "What the hell?" she muttered, as she looked around in the gloom.

Then it hit her. "Oh, ha, ha, George, very funny. Now get me the hell out of here!" she yelled. However, when she did not hear George's cackling laughter at a prank well executed, what felt like a stone dropped into the pit of her stomach.

"George? George Weasley!" she called, panic now very evident in her voice, and that was when an unexpected voice sounded from outside her field of vision.

"Miss Granger?" and even as he said it, Severus Snape wondered if he was finally losing his marbles. He got up off his cot and walked to the small grilled window in his cell door. Obviously, her voice sounded more mature, but it still had an edge to it that he would recognise anywhere.

Hermione found herself scrambling to her feet despite the pain that shot through her bleeding knees as she got up. It couldn't be? Surely, she must be dreaming. Her head swivelled, looking around, and she headed to the only break in the cold hard stone, a little grilled window in the door. "Yes," she called. "Hello?" She was unable to see in the gloom; her eyes were not accustomed to it yet.

Snape had no problem seeing her, he'd been in this hell-hole for too long, and he found himself more than surprised to be looking at a grown-up Hermione Granger, and he noticed immediately that she took his breath away. Although, he reasoned that anything human looking would at the moment… but what was someone like her doing here? "What in hell's name is a good little Gryffindor like you doing in Azkaban?" he asked, the question was out of his mouth before he'd thought about it, and it had been said more gruffly than he'd intended.

There was silence on the other side of the corridor, but finally she stuttered, "A-Azkaban?" Hermione looked at the wizard across the hallway, as her eyes started to adjust to the gloom. His hair was a longer, and he had what she thought was about a week's worth of black stubble on his face. "No!" she gasped finally. "This must be some kind of joke?"

"I can assure you that it is not. You are in a cell in Azkaban prison. What did you do, finally murder Weasley or Potter?"

"N-No," and she rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I'd been going to water Harry and Ginny's garden," and she bent down and picked up the latch off the floor. "Someone made the gate latch into a Portkey," and she held it up so he could see.

He chuckled darkly. "Well, someone wants you to disappear then, don't they? No one will ever find you here," and he barked a laugh and turned away.

Even though he was laughing at her, his voice had a purring edge to it that she didn't want to think about. He'd told her that her error in saving him would come back to bite her one day, just before they'd dragged him away, but she'd never thought anything of it, and she sneered as she said, "Well, this must make you happy, knowing now that I'm stuck here with you until I can get out."

She saw him stop moving away and she waited for the barb to be returned only he looked at her and sighed. "No, Miss Granger. It gives me no joy at all that you are here. Whoever has done this to you has chosen a very nasty way of ridding themselves of you. I know what to expect from these inmates, you will no doubt be dead after our first yard excursion, as soon as they find out who you are…" and he was silent for a moment before he added, "And that makes me truly sad. I had hoped that you—out of all of them—would overcome the poor start you had in the wizarding world."

Hermione suddenly realised that the man before her was not the same man she'd known in 1997. This man had obviously made peace with his fate. "Actually, I have. I'm the Transfiguration mistress at Hogwarts," she told him quietly, hoping to cheer him somewhat after he hadn't flayed her for sassing him.

He looked at her seriously for a moment, and then inhaled to speak. "I think past-tense would be more pertinent, wouldn't you?" He started to turn away again.

"Sir, I'm really sorry for what I did the day of the battle," she blurted suddenly, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice.

Once more he turned back towards her, and he looked at her, his fathomless eyes piercing her. "So am I," he said softly. "Death would have been preferable; welcoming even." This time he went silent and disappeared from her view.

Try as she might, Hermione could not stop the grief that poured out of her after that. The loneliness of her lot in life was nothing compared to what this man was enduring, and it was all her fault. She'd managed not to think about it for almost ten years, and she realised now that it was also why she had never sought the happiness everyone else had. Sure, she'd joked about it, saying she had no social skills, but guilt was what was truly weighing her down, and now it hit her full force.

Turning, she slid down the back of the cold door and sat on the dirty wet stones, and she cried, really cried, all her pain and frustration bubbling up and demanding to be expressed.