Harry felt better sleeping on Ron's bedroom floor than he ever did in his own bed in the Dursleys' house. It didn't matter that he'd stayed up most the night playing games with the Weasley boys, the excitement of waking to a hot breakfast, and legitimate curiosity in how he was doing...it brought him up long before his slumbering best friend, who was only a mess of matted flaming hair cocooned in bright orange blankets.

He rose and dressed in silence so as not to disturb Ron, throwing on Dursley's far oversized jumper and jeans, along with a pair of freshly knitted red socks that came along with Hermione's most recent letter, surprised she kept to her promise after all that happened back in Japan.

Harry crept down the stairs to hear the familiar sounds of Mrs Weasley frying eggs, and the sizzling of bacon. He then heard Mrs Weasley's chipper voice as he approached the sunlight kitchen.

"Remind me again, dear," she said. "Do you eat eggs?"

Harry knit his eyebrows in confusion, he'd eaten eggs with them everyday since he arrived. Who could she be talking to?

He turned to see a petite brown girl, dwarfed by the huge table and her bushy brown locks..

"Hermione?" he said. "When did you get here?"

Hermione stood and the black knitted jumper she wore proved to be more of a dress, the sleeves trailing past her arms further than Dudley's ever did on his own arms. She gave a smile and shrugged. "Dad dropped me off about twenty minutes ago. I guess Mrs and Mr Weasley invited me to attend the World Cup with them."

"Oh," Harry glanced around the kitchen to search for the oversized bat hovering over him.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione sighed. "He left shortly after dropping me off."

Mrs Weasley placed a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, beans and tomatoes in front of Harry. "I invited him to stay for breakfast in my letter, but he declined. Though you could certainly use a hearty breakfast. Now, Hermione, your father mentioned you were a vegetarian. Are eggs okay?"

"I-erm-I'm a v-vegan, Mrs Weasley," Hermione nervously corrected. "So, I–erm–i-it means that I–erm–only eat things made from plants, like fruits, vegetables and breads...I-it's really a pain for others, s-so I–erm–I ate be-before I came."

"It's no trouble at all, dear," Mrs Weasley assured her, then examined her. "Though I do wonder if that's the best choice while you're still growing."

"You have no idea how many supplemental potions Dad makes me take," Hermione forced a laugh. "I-I'll be fine, Mrs Weasley. J-just don't go too out of your way to accommodate me. I-it's fine."

"Oh, very well," Mrs Weasley beamed. "Actually, Harry dear, why don't you wake up the boys? I should show Hermione around and get her situated in Ginny's room."

"No need, Mum," Ron said, groggily, rubbing his eyes. "I can get them. Did you say–" Ron stood taller and smoothed the wayward flaming spikes. "Hermione? When did you get here?"

"Twenty-minutes ago, or so. Morning, Ron." Hermione threw her bag over her shoulder and smiled. "Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

"Wait," Ron knitted his brows. "Is that all you brought?"

"Ex-extendable charm," Hermione looked away. "It-it's easier when I'm flying to Mahoukatoro this way."

"Really?" Ron said, his eyes fixed on the canvas messenger bag. "That's bloody brilliant!"

Hermione turned a violent shade of pink and stared at her feet. "Th-thanks."

"Language, Ronald," Mrs Weasley admonished. "Let's get everyone set for breakfast."

Dear Luna,

I'm so glad you're well. I've been really busy dodging my dad and Remus since I got back, and I think it'll all be worth it. I can't say too much in the letter, but I've been following a few leads and I think I'm about to blow the case wide open! I so badly want to tell you everything!

But I do have some good news I can share! Dumbledore wants to make the Herald legitimate! I was really worried at first, and to be perfectly honest, I still am. Though it would mean we could stop running around behind the teachers' backs and exploiting the house elves to get our paper to readers. It may cost us our anonymity if we do it though,and that does scare me.

Let me know what you think. In the meantime, I somehow got an invite to the Quidditch World Cup with the request to write about it. I'll be staying with the Weasley's for the rest of the summer. I'll be sure to send you an advance copy. I did ask Dumbledore if he would consider sending you instead, but he said he'd rather have my insights, and that I also already know the entire Weasley family.

Don't ride the train alone again this year, Luna. I'm going to be with the Weasleys and Harry on the train. Let's look for each other on the platform. I can't wait to see you again.

Love,

Hermione

Luna folded the letter gently and put it back in the envelope before placing it in her mother's old wooden jewellery box. Two years' worth of letters and Luna now wondered where she could place them, as the tiny box meant for a small number of trinkets had become full.

She lovingly traced the eight mirrored moon phases engraved on the box's lid and remembered her mother showing her how to store the daisy rings made earlier that day. Beneath the letters, the two rings of dried daisies sat side by side, untouched, and a small phial held a single dandelion seed and preserved fluff with a single wish she and her mother made together. So many years, and Luna still felt her mum's warmth each time she saw those mementos. Other momentos included dried flowers from the crown Deirdre made her, a single white feather, a shed butterfly wing and a silver chain holding her mother's locket with an engraved luna moth and moonflower on its front. She smiled as she delicately brushed her fingers over her mum's locket.

"I miss you, Mummy," she sighed, falling back on her bed. "I bet your heaven is a garden or the moon—or a garden on the moon! Yeah, that's definitely it! I know you're happy up there. I'm getting by here. The other kids are still mean, they make fun of me for knowing what's out there. It shouldn't matter, but it does hurt sometimes," Luna clutched the locket closer to her chest. "I'm sure I'll grow out of it, Mummy. But I made some good friends. And Hermione..she's just amazing. You'd love her, I know you would. She's funny and smart and she has these huge brown and amber eyes that sparkle when she , really smiles,not the silly nervous smile—thought that's—" Luna shook her head as the butterflies set to fluttering around her stomach. Maybe her mum didn't need every detail. "But there's this boy. That sparkle, that smile… I see it every time she says his name, and he's proposed. She's only a year older than me, I don't know why they got engaged."

A warm salty tear trickled down Luna's cheek, surprising her. "But she is my best friend, and I'm happy to have her as that. And my other friend Deirdre is fantastic. She's quite a few years older than us, but, Mummy, she's just like you. She loves flowers, and trees, and wears flowers in her hair every day. I think she said she wants to be a teacher and said she's trying to find plant-alternatives for potions' ingredients based on sympathetic magic rules. Oh, and did I tell you that Padma's talking to me now? She actually stood up for me a few times when the other Ravenclaw girls made fun of me. It's nice to have friends, but I don't know about Harry and Ron. Ron's very funny, but very mean, and Harry's kind of stuck in his own head, but I think he's a good person."

Artemis leapt on Luna's chest and began puring, her sapphire eyes blinked slowly while she began kneading her chest. The long haired black kitten grew considerably from the runt of the litter Hermione gave her after Hallowe'en. Luna could now clearly see the long tufts of hair tapering off the ends of her ears, and her whiskers were white and the five-point star of white fur on Artemis's chest stood out more clearly. Luna thought she looked like a cat in a fairy tale rather than a real cat.

"Hello, Artemis," Luna scratched behind her ears. "How's my favourite little kitten?" She took one hand and dangled the locket in front of the kitten, who now very gently batted at it. "Did you want to talk to Mummy again? She used to have a couple kneazles, Selene and Celeste, I miss them too, but I know they'd love you."

Artemis touched her nose to Luna's and yawned before curling up in a tight, purring ball on her chest. The kitten was very much like Luna, a huge fan of cuddles. At least with the right people and creatures.

Luna smiled and buried her face in Artemis's fur and let the gentle purring send her off to sleep.

A familiar call came from the window and Hermione's heart pounded somewhere in her ears. Archimedes flew through Ron's bedroom window, with two envelopes in his beak, one she recognized her father's handwriting on it, but the other came from the Ministry of Magic's office of assessments. Her Ordinary Wizard Levels came in…

She gingerly took the envelopes from Archimedes's beak and absently scratched between the owl's amber eyes, which now closed as he cooed, oblivious to the tightness forming in Hermione's chest.

"Hermione?" Harry stood from Ron's bed, while Ron still reviewed his new list of required school supplies.

They were there in Ron's small bedroom with her, but Hermione swore they were kilometres away, Harry's voice muffled as if she were under water. The air burned her lungs and throat as she tried to get enough oxygen, feeling as if she were dragged from the river once more. Soon the only thing she could hear was her own heart.

She opened her father's letter first.

Dear Hermione,

I was hoping this would have come while you were still at home, but there were some delays, given your age. I wanted to be with you when you opened your results.

Send Archimedes back with a reply as soon as you can. You forgot to bring your messaging diary, so let me know how you're doing. And if those damn boys are giving you any trouble. I won't hesitate to set them straight.

Good luck.

Love,

Dad

Hermione read and re-read the short letter from her father as if she could decode secret meanings from his words.

Delayed because of my age? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did I fail? If I fail can i do it again—no, noone else can, so why would—

Hermione inhaled deeply and counted to three in her head, placing her long thumbnail under the second envelope's opening. She paused, inhaled as deeply as she could with her shaky breath and hands.

One…

She braced herself, biting her lip.

Two…

Hermione winced and made the first tear in the envelope, her stomach churning.

Three…

She ripped open the envelope.

"Hermione?" Harry asked again.

"What if I failed all of them?" she squeaked, stomach churning at the mention. She worked her arse off, but she also was so focused on Pettigrew and Black, so confused by the time turner, and even if she wasn't, she knew she wasn't half as clever as her friends thought. She was nothing but a failure.

"I reckon you did great," Harry assured her, giving her shoulder an awkward squeeze.

Did she review each written test thrice? And what of the practical? She was only given one chance for each spell, two less than she needed to ensure they were correct.

"I know I failed everything," Hermione said, barely above a whisper.

"She just wants attention," Ron groaned and rolled his eyes before marching over to her. "Oi, Hermione,stop being so dramatic and give it here!"

"R-Ron, I—"

But it was too late, Ron had all but ripped the fragile parchment from her hands, shooing an annoyed Archimedes, who screeched in his ear before flying to land on Hermione's shoulder. "Oh, look!" he scoffed, shoving it in Hermione's face. "Virtually all 'O's, I'm so surprised."

Hermione gingerly took the note and read it over, holding her breath.

Name: Snape, Hermione Elizabeth Lilium DOB: 1 September 1980 (We acknowledge this student is two years younger than OWLs students)

Ancient Runes: O Arithmancy: O

Astronomy/ Astrology: O Care of Magical Creatures:O

Charms: O Defence Against the Dark Arts: EE

Divination: A Herbology: O

History of Magic: O Muggle Studies: O

Potions: O (That was the first time she ever got above an 'Exceeds Expectations' in the subject)

Transfiguration: O

Note: This student performed admirably, but the Ordinary Wizarding Levels Assessments' Office strongly recommends that Miss Snape and her parents delay her entry into the NEWTs, as we will not be awarding such a distinction to an underage witch, nor will she be allowed to take the apparition lessons until she is sixteen and the test until she is seventeen.

Hermione once again hated that she'd been pushed two full years ahead. What the hell was she supposed to do when her classmates took those tests? She knew she wanted to write her entry levels into Mahoukatoro's post secondary programme, but they wouldn't take her without her a completed secondary programme from her home country. These people destroyed her plans and didn't even know her well enough to make the recommendation to her "parent" instead of "parents '.

At least I know I didn't fail everything…

"Fred and George barely scraped 'A's in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration," Ron snapped. "And here you are all (Ron put on a squeaky voice) 'oh, no I just now I failed everything, comfort me, Harry!' You have twelve OWLs, ten of which are bloody 'O's!"

Sudden tears stung Hermione's eyes and she clasped her hands tightly before her. "No, Ron, that's not—" she sighed. "I'm sorry."

Ron gulped and turned away. "It's alright, I guess."

Collect yourself, you stupid little girl! Hermione admonished herself, and stared at the red droplets forming between her fingers. She breathed in and counted to three once again before forcing a smile and turning to Archimedes. "I-I'll send Archimedes with my reply and then I can show you guys my murder board!"

"Murder what?!" Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks.

As it turned out, a murder board was what Harry always thought of as a conspiracy board or a scrub-down. Hermione returned to the room with no trace of her previous distress, and Ron was similarly eager to forget the earlier interaction. Now they stared at the cork board with Hermione's various notes, and red yarn connecting each of her suspicions together.

The first pin connected a scrap of parchment dated 1937 gave Harry a shiver, born to an unknown mother. Harry knew Voldemort grew up in a muggle orphanage, but reading it out made it real. Riddle mentioned that his father was a muggle, but he was in Slytherin and loathed muggleborns, so he knew his mother had to be a witch, but it seemed Hermione thought of that with several names of Slytherin girls that graduated in 1935-1937, but each of them had been crossed off and a scribbled note on a separate piece of parchment read: Father muggle, mother unknown. Middle name Marvolo, a wizarding male name…look for uncle or grandfather? Fuck.

"A bit strange to write 'Fuck' on your clues, innit?" Ron teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "I was very tired. I was grounded, I had to delve into the archives after midnight. And I have…I was so excited to show you this, but it's all a bunch of shit! I-I'm sorry to have wasted your time."

"Wait, Hermione," Harry stopped her from putting it back in her bag. "The timeline might give us something. And what's a horcrux?"

Hermione pointed to the column labelled "Horcruxes?"

"You see," she explained tracing a line from 31 October 1981, detailing the attack on his parents and Harry's survival, to another note that read: Summer 1991...Earlier: V attaches to Quirell, and the string curved back to the Horcruxes column, and a note that was very hastily drawn up, and unfinished.

Horcrux made through fracturing souls via murder.

Can only be destroyed through powerful magical artefacts…Basilisk venom?

"A horcrux is a piece of a soul. Someone can make one by murdering a person with the artefact they want to turn into a horcrux. Once it's created they're effectively immortal." Hermione breathed. "And–"

Hermione's finger looped back to a drawn image of Riddle's diary and a basilisk fang. Beneath it, it read:

February 1993,

A fraction of Riddle's soul (who seemed not to be fully Voldemort) manifested from his diary. Only a basilisk fang could destroy it.

"If I'm right after all my research, he might be mortal now," she said. "The problem is–" she ran her finger along the web of red yarn to August 1994. "You're still dreaming of him as a disembodied soul. If he has no body, he can't be mortal...but I don't know if that diary could be anything else. Or if he created something else the night he killed your parents, Harry, but with your scar, there's some connection he made with you that night."

Harry's stomach churned as he thought of the awful emotions of hate and anger that flooded his mind each night. The intense burning of his scar, searing both his head and mind reminded him of that. He didn't need Hermione to remind him of that 'connection' they shared. Though he thought Hermione might have been on to something with the diary.

"Hermione," Harry pondered. "What if Voldemort made more than one?"

Hermione mused on this, clasping her hands and biting her lip. She often did this when she was deep in thought, or working up the courage to do something, or facing disturbing information. But Hermione's parents weren't the ones Voldemort put in the ground. Unless, Snape had been such an arse because Hermione's mother was a victim in the war too...Harry had never considered that before. He wondered if Hermione did, or if she had been so determined to hate her mother that the thought never occurred to her.

How can someone be so desperate to hate their mum?

"That makes sense!" Ron exclaimed, after briefly recovering from Voldemort's name. "You-know-who's killed loads of people, I reckon that he has dozens!"

Hermione clasped her hands more tightly together and inhaled deeply before shaking her head. "The creation of a horcrux takes more than just murdering someone. It's a task that involves pouring your magic and energy into an item for years, sometimes decades. It takes a lot out of a person, magically and once finished can take months to recover. Th-the Dark Lord might have one, maybe two more, but he can't have dozens."

"Well, sorry we didn't spend all summer with our noses in dusty old books…" Ron grumbled.

"It-it's not a bad idea in principle, it-it's just not likely he has that many," Hermione stared at her board. "I can't believe I never considered he would have more than one, you have to kill people who mean something, that inspire a lot of emotion to you."

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "I reckon my parents meant loads to Voldemort, probably did tea every Sunday."

Hermione shrank, hugging her knees to her chest, disappearing into the oversized jumper. "S-sorry, Harry."

"'S'Alright," Harry awkwardly looked away, wondering why he should be the one to feel guilty.

A rapping on the door broke the unsettled silence.

"Hey," Ginny's voice barely came through the wood. "Mum says it's time for us to get ready for supper. Charlie and Bill are here."

"Can we talk more about this later?" Harry asked. "After all that work, you must have something."

"Y-yeah," Hermione nodded.

Dear Dad,

It looks like vomiting during my practical wasn't an automatic fail. I managed to get an "EE" in DADA. I passed everything, "O"s in most subjects, surprisingly, even yours. Guess all those Saturdays helping you paid off, haha?

The Weasleys have been very good to me. I'm bunking with Ginny, obviously, and "those damn boys" are perfectly fine. There's no trouble for us to get into here, so things are very calm. I promise, there's nothing to worry about. I'm okay.

How are you, Remus and Crookshanks? Archimedes looks fine, but his insistence on peanuts makes me feel like you've been stingy! Erm, haha? I can't believe I wrote that without the ability to magic away ink.

Outside of mortifying attempts at jokes (sorry) I'm fine. Everyone's been super nice to me, and yes, I am eating and sleeping while. Mrs Weasley runs a tight ship.

Hope things back home are okay.

Love,

Hermione

Severus smiled and rolled his eyes. That child has no clue how funny she is, does she? He gently folded the letter and stroked Archimedes's feathers.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Were they really treating her alright?"

"I'm shocked you didn't link your senses when he flew to the Weasleys," Remus smirked over his paper.

Severus waved his hand with a sigh. "It's too far to maintain a link, unfortunately. I just have to hope her 'I'm fine's aren't blatant lies this time around. I swear I've lost my mind letting her go there."

Remus put aside his paper and approached him, a small smile on his lips. "Hermione's a smart girl. She'll be fine. Mrs Weasley will take good care of her, the twins treat her like a little sister already, Harry's a good kid and I'm certain Ron fancies her. She's in good hands."

Fancies her? A million thoughts of Weasley spitting venom at Hermione came to mind. The girl wilted like a dead flower everytime he neared her. The boy insulted her, screamed at her, intimidated her. Hermione hid it, and Severus was certain he hadn't seen the worst of Weasley's abuse. Abuse, that's what it fucking was! Obviously, acting indirectly to please Hermione's naive impulses wasn't doing a damn thing. How many point deductions and detentions had he given that boy over the years? He had to have a direct conversation with the little bastard when he landed.

Because that worked out so well when you did that with Malfoy's little shit! Severus then turned to Remus, who seemed to have no bloody idea why that shouldn't be suggested lightly.

"You have seen the way the youngest Weasley boy talks to her, do you not?" Severus asked.

Remus shrugged with a weak smile. "Boys that age often pick on girls they like. It's perfectly normal."

Severus clenched his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. How many times did he find his mother cowering under furniture because the man she was with 'picked on' her? How many demeaning comments were seared into his memory? What was it that led Eileen Snape to die in a cupboard in his childhood room?

You abandoned me, Severus! His mother's voice screamed in his head.

I was a child!

You were seventeen, his mother's voice retorted. A whole year older than I was when I birthed your pathetic arse! I got expelled, married that monster and threw my youth and life away for you!

Would Hermione fall into that trap? Sure, the Yamato boy seemed fine now, but he imagined his father seemed fine before they got married. What mad laws allowed a sixteen-year-old to marry a twenty-two-year-old? What were Japanese marriage laws like?

The boy's a continent away, I should be more worried about Weasley. She's head over heels for Yamato, she wouldn't give Weasley the time of day. And even if Yamato was out of the picture, she isn't stupid enough to fancy him back, is she?

"What the hell, Remus?!" Severus snapped. "Tell me you didn't tell my daughter that 'boys pick on girls they like' and that it's 'perfectly normal'?!"

Remus knit his eyebrows and tilted his head in confusion. "Severus?"

"Well, did you?" he seethed, glowering at his idiot partner, already kn owing the answer.

Remus looked away, and mumbled. "She was upset, I thought if she knew why he was behaving like that, she might feel better."

What? Since when did she come to you for comfort? Severus silenced the thought…or tried to. Hermione was supposed to want a relationship with whomever he chose to bring into their lives. That was supposed to be a good thing…and how many single parents would kill for that? But that wasn't the point, he had to push down the jealousy warring within him to address the much more important issue at hand.

"You couldn't have told her that the boy was a cruel moron?! Whatever that idiot boy thinks or feels is completely irrelevant," he turned away. "What matters is Hermione choosing to excuse abhorrent behaviour because her godfather told her that such abuses are 'perfectly normal!'" Severus averted his own gaze now, to the hearth where Hermione once sprawled over, excitedly reading a novel with a dramatic voice and a gleam in her eye.

A hobby Weasley openly mocks…

"Fuck a duck," Remus groaned. "I never told her to excuse his behaviour. I just thought she needed to know why. Boys that age are idiots. Merlin, I remember being older and—" Remus shook his head. "I know you don't want to go back there, but try to remember being a teenager. Can you say you never—hell, can you say you never act rashly with the people you care about now?"

No, Severus swallowed. How have you not left me yet? "Remus, you don't know what I've seen. I won't—have you any clue how many girls end up—fuck, forget it!"

"You're right, Severus," Remus sighed. "I don't know what you've seen. But I do know that this has to stop. Talk to me."

How could Severus navigate this? He too wanted this to work. But how? How could Remus plead with him, his greying eyebrows knit over his pale green eyes, looking so frail, yet he had so much power. If Remus had still been as prideful, as arrogant and as unapologetic as he had been as a boy, maybe Severus wouldn't feel—he wasn't sure. He was just holding his breath until the man finally left them. Yet, he wanted to tighten his grip on Remus. He didn't understand it, nor could he defend himself from what he felt for the exasperated fool in front of him.

"There's nothing to talk about," Severus sighed. "Just don't encourage her to pursue Weasley, eh?"

Remus's shoulders and face dropped as he let out a sigh of his own. He shook his head and clutched at his chest. "I'm trying, Severus, I really am. But you have to give me something."

Tell him what? That he was terrified of Hermione finding his mother's fate? That he knew in vivid and gruesome detail what became of promising young girls that fall in with the wrong bloke because he was a product of it? That he was unwanted from day one, that the body Remus didn't find repulsive was a source of shame for his mother? Or that Severus's mere existence turned his mother into a monster nearly as bad as his father? Or that Severus abandoned her to a man he knew would be the end of her?

No, you're disappointed now, but you'll be disgusted if you know. Why can't you just fucking drop it?

"I don't owe you a damn thing," Severus snapped. "Just fucking leave it!"

A flame leaped in Remus's eyes and he bared his teeth, anger shrouding the frailty of his body, colour returned to his greying flesh and his fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell is wrong with you?! I have tried so hard to be patient with you and every time you get remotely open you completely shut me out!"

"Why the hell is this so bloody important to you?!"

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Because I care about you. I want to know the man I'm with. But you don't seem to give a toss."

Severus averted his gaze, shame returning. "I do."

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it, don't you?" Remus snapped. "I fucking love you, but I still don't know what I am to you."

Severus choked and stared at Remus. He loved him? So, those things he said about the future..he meant it? How could he—say something or he will leave.

"I wouldn't exactly invite you to live with me or my child if this were a fling, now would I?" Severus said.

"Merlin, Severus," Remus extended to his full height, but tears glistened in his eyes. "It's always the same with you, isn't it? I don't get it. Do you want me to leave?"

"Of course I don't!" Severus cried.

"Then why won't you let me in?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!"