The knocking at his door was as aggravating as the buzzing of a midge right before falling asleep. Severus stared at the dark wood as if his glare could stop it, digging his fingernails into the armrests of his chair, so hard that he could hear the old fabric crack.

He knew who was standing on the other side of the door. It was Dumbledore. Dumbledore, whose office he'd left earlier, absolutely furious because the old man had once again cloaked himself in silence. Dumbledore, who still had wanted to draw another promise from him. Dumbledore, who was the last person Severus wanted to talk to right now.

That didn't stop the Headmaster from trying though. At this point, he was already knocking on his door for about five minutes. Five endless minutes. But astonishingly enough, he didn't resort to magic to get what he wanted, and eventually, he left. Severus's fingers slackened.

He held his breath and closed his eyes for a second. Against his will, their encounter earlier that evening emerged from his memory. "Promise me that you will do it, Severus! When the time has come, you have to do it!" His stomach lurched only thinking about what Dumbledore, what both of his Lords expected him to do. He imagined – only hypothetically! – how he would raise his wand against the Headmaster and …

He laughed throatily. The idea alone was so ridiculous that he could lose his mind over it.

In fact, it was already happening. Every time he acted as if nothing was wrong he lost a small bit of his mind. When he was teaching, sitting next to his colleagues in the Great Hall, talking with them, drinking his coffee in the staff room, discussing plans for the next term at staff meetings – then he could almost forget that the only relevant plan for the next term was Dumbledore's death and his own promotion as headmaster.

When he wasn't seeing Dumbledore's black hand it almost felt as if all of this had only been a bad dream.

And then there were days like this when he couldn't think of anything else. When he would have given everything to … Everything to be able to talk to only one person that did not expect him to do that. That had enough trust in Severus to tell him what was happening behind the scenes. Why he had to do this, why there wasn't any other way. But nobody could answer his questions – except for Dumbledore. And Dumbledore was the last person Severus wanted to talk to right now.

At long last, he rose to his feet and fetched his travelling cloak. Rashly. Spontaneously. It was late in the evening, way after curfew. The castle was as quiet as a monastery. Or as a church. The portrait residents had retreated behind their frames to sleep, the armours were silent, Peeves was clever enough to not cross Severus's path.

The buzzing in his veins ceased a little when he descended the stairs at the castle's entry, a warm breeze brushing his face. Summer was coming, he could smell it. Severus strode along the Black Lake. The surface was rippling, almost as if invisible threads were pulling the water up. The reed was whispering and rustling, and in the middle of the lake – silhouetted against the sparse light of the moon – the tentacles of the Giant Squid were moving.

Soon the border of the castle grounds came into view and Severus drew his wand before he'd even reached it. His face dogged and hard, he opened a crack in the protecting charms and left the grounds. Hogwarts was like a maximum security unit and yet … the Death Eaters would eventually crash it. He quickly glanced back before he Disapparated.

Doll was a piece of land that had missed most of the last century's progress. If it were possible, the residents would probably tip up the few pavements they had at night. Nobody got in his way and he neither had to change his looks nor had to mind the power of his wand. The sounds of his steps echoed in the night, he turned up his collar against the drizzle.

Then he saw the church. A huge black shadow enthroned on a hill on the outskirts of the village. Severus remembered the dull chiming of the church clock, vibrating in his body like a shiver in winter.

"This is the voice of the Lord!" his grandmother had said, urging his five-year-old self forwards. And although Severus had known about his magical heritage even back then he had been afraid of this Lord.

Now he suddenly longed for him. For a Lord that didn't expect him to kill someone. That he could turn to without wearing either of his masks. That would – if he could trust the words of his late grandmother – always listen to him, no matter what he needed to talk about.

Severus was by no means a religious man. But he was a desperate man and when he'd been here for the last time that had been different. On this night, with no one to confide in, he maybe hoped to get some of his old confidence back, even if he had to find it in his childhood church.

But apparently, the residents of Doll had found another way to the Lord since he'd last been here. There was a warning sign nailed at the doors, he could see it even when he was still well away from it. Danger of collapse, it read. And it already looked quite old. He frowned. Why would they only tack a sign at a building in danger of collapse instead of knocking it down?

Then he sensed the magic. It seeped through every crack of the walls. "What the hell …" he mumbled and sneaked closer.

His eyes closed, he laid his hand flush against the stones. There it was again, that vibrating. This time completely without the chiming, but it felt as if it would shake every molecule in his body out of its place. He took a deep breath.

When Severus withdrew his hand, he slid his wand into it and unlocked the folding doors. The lock opened with a creaking sound and without thinking twice he pulled at the old iron ring until the rusty hinges squeaked. With another twitch of his wand, Severus sent some lights into the church, and instantly, he found the source of the magic.

A shimmering oval near the altar. He tilted his head to the left, then to the right, narrowed his eyes, and slowly approached it, crossing the nave. The benches to his left and right were assembled so neatly as if a mass was about to start soon. Only the thin layer of dust covering everything reminded him that nobody had been here for quite some time.

Only when he'd already half walked down the aisle he understood what that oval was and he froze on the spot. He'd read about it. In his youth. Before he'd joined the Death Eaters and crashed his life into a brick wall. Rifts in time. He held his breath, his eyes fixed on the shimmering oval. Was that really possible?

Slowly he went closer and observed the time portal that had opened in this drowsy village in the middle of nowhere because two extremely powerful magical events had coiled the line of time into a loop. He'd never seen anything like this, hadn't even dreamt of ever getting that opportunity. It was a much too rare occurrence. As far as he knew, it had happened only twice since humans were able to deliver something reliable to posterity.

That this rift existed meant that something huge was about to happen. There wasn't a sufficiently powerful magical occurrence in the closer past so it had to be in the near future. And since rifts in time used to stretch some years, if not decades past the actual event (both into the past and the future), the existence of this rift was like a prophecy. Something huge was about to happen. That left the question of whether this huge event would be Dumbledore's death … or the death of the Dark Lord.

Or both.

All of this made breathing difficult for him so he pushed it away and stopped about three feet in front of the rift, taking a deep breath. The magic that was pouring into his lungs caused a tingling in his whole body. It caused one thought to creep back upon him: Whatever would happen in this war, it would truly unleash enough magic to build a loop in time. Here, of all places. In a god-damn church in a god-damn village somewhere in Scotland. Severus scoffed.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when there was a bang behind him. He whirled around and tried to see what had happened. But after he'd stared into the shimmering light of the rift, he was virtually blind to the dimness of the church. White dots were dancing in his field of vision.

The bang, however, was followed by a loud scraping and the smell of dry dust tickled his nostrils. Severus raised his eyes to the painted ceiling of the church, just when a huge chunk of the roof loosened and fell down on him.

Something was squawking next to his ear. Once. Twice. Then it got quiet.

Until it suddenly screeched so loudly and at such a high frequency that Severus shot up. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a bird flapping away in shock. It disappeared between the billowing treetops.

"What the hell …" he muttered again and frowned. Only when a warm gust of wind brushed some strands of hair into his face and the rushing of the trees grew louder he understood what his eyes were seeing. Trees. A lot of trees.

There definitely hadn't been trees in the church in Doll.

Severus was back on his feet within a second, his wand clasped in his hand. He pivoted on the spot and only stopped when he saw the shimmering rift in front of him.

He must have stumbled through it when he'd tried to escape the chunk of the actually in danger of collapsing roof. And the rift had led him straight into a green paradise.

Severus gulped and since there didn't seem to be any kind of danger right now – aside from cheeky birds – he relaxed a bit and tilted his head back.

Was there still a forest with such dense treetops anywhere in Great Britain in his time? So thickly leaved that not a single ray of sunlight reached the ground? He thought not. Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Then he looked back at the rift. He should go back. As soon as possible. He didn't belong here and he had a mission to accomplish on the other side. Even now he had to hope that he would at least roughly return to the same time that he'd come from given that time rifts were chaos and followed not a single one of the usual rules. It was absolutely possible that it would throw him out twenty years earlier than he'd left. Or later. And it didn't bear contemplating what would happen if the Dark Lord believed Severus had betrayed him.

But he did not go back. Instead of doing a step forwards, through the rift, he did one backwards. Then one more. And another.

If he had to hope to return to the right time anyway he could just as well stay. For a while …

As soon as the rift had vanished from Severus's field of vision he tended to his clothes. He didn't know at which time he'd arrived but considering the flora surrounding him, it could very well be assumed that he'd travelled to the past. So he transfigured his cloak into a plain jacket, reluctantly gave up the deep black, and turned the sturdy, delicately woven fabric to loose linen. When he was done, he looked down at himself with furrowed brows. It would have to do and he probably wouldn't instantly attract attention. But he wasn't comfortable in the slightest in this new attire. Oh well …

He got going again. There was only one path leading away from the spot where the rift in time was and Severus followed it. The forest surrounding him was so dense, the ground so uneven, and everything so overgrown with bushes that he really couldn't do anything else. It was a wall of green that encompassed him, something that he most likely wouldn't find in his time anywhere outside of the deepest rain forests. He even came across plants that had gone extinct in his time or that were so rare that you had to pay horrendous prices for them. Here they grew tightly packed in areas as huge as the Black Lake.

He'd been on the way for approximately half an hour when the forest around the path grew a little lighter. The trees were far enough apart from each other that he could see more than the next few metres, there were small patches of sunlight overgrown with hedge violets, and finally, across a particularly huge clearing right in front of him, he spotted a small house, nestled in between two enormous trunks.

Severus stopped. For several minutes he let the clear air flow through his lungs and took his time to think things through. The two options he had were playing ping-pong between his ears. Leave or stay. Stay or leave.

Before he'd come to a conclusion a woman stepped out of the cottage. She carried a wicker basket underneath her arm, ecru-coloured fabric piled in it, and went to a cluster of trees between which thin ropes were stretched. She nimbly threw the pieces of clothing over the ropes, her skirt flapping in the wind.

Severus narrowed his eyes and watched her, his gaze roving over her curly brown hair, the lean back, and her slender arms, contemplating whether he should dare go to her. Was it really wise to make contact with somebody from this time? He had to be careful.

His musings, however, stopped instantly when the woman turned around and he recognised her! He took a sharp breath and stumbled back. A branch cracked underneath his right foot and the woman raised her eyes. She saw him at once.

And smiled. "I was waiting for you," said Hermione Granger and put her hands on her hips.

"Miss Granger?" he asked in astonishment when she'd come closer.

"The one and only," she confirmed with a nod.

He narrowed his eyes, gripping his wand tighter. "Prove it!" he hissed.

She chuckled. "In my second year I turned into a cat due to a mistake using the Polyjuice Potion and you brewed the potions I needed to get rid of my tail and the whiskers. You labelled the potions with red ink instead of black to remind me every day what an epic mistake I'd made."

Right, he'd done that. And it had served her right. Still, he eyed her for a second longer before he asked: "What the hell are you doing here?" It sounded nowhere near as cold as he'd envisioned it. Her figure distracted him. Granger had got older. She was at least in her mid-twenties. But it was unmistakeably her – and this time apparently without Polyjuice Potion. The longer he looked at her, the less he would have been surprised by her fetching a piece of parchment and a quill from her pocket to scribble down some notes.

But she didn't take notes. Only her smile grew wider while she laced her fingers. "I have to tie up a few loose ends. And you? What brings you here?"

"That's none of your business. How did you get here?"

"I assume the same way as you."

"How did you know about it?"

"That's not important, sir. I am more interested in whether you plan to stay for longer. Because then I would offer you my guest room. Well, it is more of a chamber but you know what I mean." She nodded at the cottage that was a little bit too perfect for a time like this – even though he still did not know which time it was. He had no doubt that it had been built magically.

"Don't you think it risky to create a house like that in a time like this?" he, therefore, asked instead.

She laughed softly. "Don't you think that I know how to use my wand?"

Severus uttered a non-committal hum, trying hard to not deduct any House points from Gryffindor. Seeing her like this, grown-up, mature, confident, was as confusing as writing with his left hand. It put his brain into a similar loop as the timeline.

And still, she'd neither told him how she'd found the rift nor what she was doing here.

"So, are you planning to stay?" she pressed him and he hated the joy that was glistening in her brown eyes. How dare she look at him like that? At him!

"I shouldn't be here in the first place," he mumbled and slightly turned his head as if that would stop the unpleasant tingle itching in the back of his neck.

"And yet, here you are …" She angled her head.

He frowned. "You know it," he realised. She was older, she had to know.

"Know what?"

Everything. She had to know everything. "Whether I will stay or not," was the only thing he said though. Not How the war ends. Or That I am to kill Dumbledore. Or If everything works out as it is planned or if I … will just not return at all. He said nothing of that out loud. Not a single word. But that she was here, that she was older than … that was good, wasn't it? It had to mean that …

She nodded cautiously. "Yes, I do know."

He gulped. "Then why do you ask?"

Granger shrugged her shoulder. "It strikes me as the polite thing to do." For a few seconds, she regarded him, probably waiting for an answer, but he remained silent. Then she pointed at the house. "Why don't you go ahead? I'll just finish hanging out the laundry." She turned her back to him and while he was still taking in the sight of her time-appropriate clothing she was already throwing a vest over one of the ropes.

The interior of her abode emitted an equally magical flair as the exterior. The furniture was neat, the cabinets embellished with intricate carvings, several woven carpets were spread on the wooden floor and colourful curtains in front of the windows. But the rooms weren't separated from each other. The kitchen to his left was blending seamlessly into a dining area that was only divided by the living room with a bookshelf. Apparently, only the bedroom was separated, there was a narrow circular stair leading up to another floor.

Severus crossed the room and approached one of the windows. The glass was clear and neatly done; even Hogwarts' windows were rougher and obscured the view. Granger better knew damn well how to use her wand because if somebody not knowing about time travel was to ever see this she would have a lot to explain.

While he was waiting for her, the absurdity of this situation crept up on him once again and the cold tingling in the back of his neck caused his pulse to speed up. What the hell was he doing here? They were in the middle of a god-damn war and he jumped through time, probably several centuries afar, just to meet his former and suddenly very grown-up student? Hermione Granger, of all people! He couldn't have made that up … And what would he do now? Really billet on her instead of doing what he'd promised to do? This could ruin everything! How could he …

"Did you take a look at the guest room already?" Granger's voice interrupted his frantic thoughts.

He turned around to her. "No," he said, "that will not be necessary." He strode back towards her and since she still was standing at the door, blocking his way out, he said: "I will go back."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes. Get out of the way, Miss Granger."

But she only smiled. "Do you really want to miss the witch burning?"

And that was such a strange question that Severus hesitated. "Witch burning?"

But she did not tell him anything else about this witch burning, especially not why she was so excited about it. Instead, she urged him to sit down and prepared some tea before she joined him at the table.

"So, where is your husband?" Severus inquired, warily eyeing the cup in front of him. He wasn't very fond of tea. Usually, he only drank it when Pomona had prepared it. So there was no chance that Granger's variation would be to his liking. He probably should ask her for water instead.

Her counterquestion snapped him out of his musings. "What husband?" And when he raised his eyes he saw that she'd knitted her brows.

"The husband that had your permission to put this ring on your finger," he specified and nodded to her left hand.

"Ah, the ring." She sipped her tea. "That's not a wedding ring. Although it is of help that everybody assumes it is …"

Severus huffed. "I bet it is."

She acknowledged that with a mysterious smile.

"So you live here?"

"Obviously," she replied and left it at that.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you live here, Miss Granger? At a time like this. Has yours not been enough?"

She exhaled slowly. "It has," she eventually said. "But as I already told you: I have to tie up a few loose ends here."

"With me," he added since that was what she'd said: I was waiting for you.

"Yes," she admitted.

He narrowed his eyes. "And you won't tell me what exactly these loose ends are."

Granger tilted her head once again. "Do I really have to?"

Severus glared at her, then he averted his gaze. He hated that she knew everything. Yes, in a moment of weakness he'd wished for someone he could talk to about everything Dumbledore and the Dark Lord expected from him. For someone that could tell him about the bigger picture and why he should do all of this. But when he'd wished for such a person he had not been thinking about Hermione Granger! "How did you know that I would come here?"

She arched her eyebrows.

And when she did not respond he bristled. "Will you at least tell me what it is you spend your time with? I do hope it is more than doing the laundry."

"It is, yes. I'm working as a healer. And in my spare time, I'm … otherwise occupied."

"With?"

She pursed her lips. "Experiments."

Severus frowned. "What kind of experiments?"

She considered him with a closed expression but when it did not change his inquiring look she jerked her head at his untouched cup. "How to make a well-brewed cup of tea, for example. You should really give it a try, sir." Then she stood and went upstairs.

He watched her leave. And only when she'd vanished from his focus he leaned over his cup and inhaled the scent of the tea. Quite pleasant. In fact, it reminded him of Pomona's infusions.

As if he was examining a suspect potion, he took up the cup and brought it to his lips. He sipped at the tea and waited for the taste to blossom on his tongue. And when it did his eyes grew big and he looked around for Granger. "I expect answers!" he called.

Because that was Pomona's tea.

But Granger refused to answer these questions as well. "You're not ready yet," was the only thing she said while she was putting clean sheets on the bed that was supposed to be his. And since his scowl had for some mysterious reason lost its effect on her, he returned downstairs and looked around.

There he noticed a door that led off from the living room. It was right next to the fireplace, hidden in the shadows. That was why he hadn't noticed it earlier. Severus pursed his lips when he sensed the magical wards it was protected with. He glanced around. And since Granger frustrated him and was still upstairs he slid his wand in his hand and began lifting the wards.

She knew how to use her wand, indeed. He needed more time than he'd anticipated to break through her wards. But finally, the lock clicked and the door swung open.

Severus poked his head through it and when lights along the walls came to life he snorted. It was a laboratory. So, she'd really been serious about the experiments.

He curiously approached one of the cauldrons hanging over a fire on a table in the middle of the room. Peering into it frowning, he smelled the fumes. "Polyjuice Potion?" he mumbled. What the hell was she playing at?

"What are you doing here?"

Granger's sharp voice caused him to look up. "Investigating," he replied and arched his brows, eyeing her sceptically. Maybe she did try to deceive him. Maybe he was about to walk right into a trap …

He swiftly pointed his wand at her, casting a silent Stupefy, but she was faster; it was repelled by her Protego and Severus had to duck his head. "Stop it!" she yelled. "The potion's not for me!"

Severus glared at her. "Then what are you brewing it for?"

She raised her chin a fraction. "Stay and find out for yourself," she then said in a clipped voice and actually turned around without protecting herself against another attack from him. In leaving she added: "And restore the wards before you leave the lab! I don't want to find any animals in there!"

He knitted his brows. "What animals, pray tell, could be able to get into a room bare of windows?" he called after her, circled the table and approached the door. She was standing in the kitchen corner, taking a chopping board and a definitely modern knife from a drawer.

Upon his question, she stilled and peered at him past the bookshelf. "I don't know," she nagged, "maybe a doe?"

Severus froze. He stared at her for several seconds, trying to ascertain whether it had been a coincidence or … or whether she knew that as well. And if so, how? How could she …

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I shouldn't have said that." She turned back to the work table and tied her hair into a knot.

"How do you know about it?" Severus asked and strode to her.

"Forget it, I really shouldn't have said that."

"But you did!" He grasped her arm and turned her around. She took a sharp breath. "How do you know that, Miss Granger?"

She gulped, her eyes jumping back and forth between his. "I cannot tell you."

He growled softly and let her go, quickly taking a step back because he'd suddenly become aware of how close he'd got to her. Indecently close. "I've had enough of your games," he then decided.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I will leave! I shouldn't be here, to begin with. As you are well aware, I do have a job to do!" He turned away before she could react. He didn't want to know it if he wouldn't succeed. He didn't want to know it because that was out of the question. He had to succeed and the door of this too-perfect house banged against the wall when he tore it open and stormed outside.

"Professor Snape!" Granger called after him but he did not listen to her. He didn't stop, didn't look back. All of this was insane and he had to go back to his own time. As soon as possible!

And yet he did not Apparate but strode along the only path that led from Granger's house back to the rift in time. Because – needless to say – she'd had to make sure that he would meet her as soon as he arrived here. Severus scoffed. She was just like Dumbledore. She, too, could tell him a lot and chose not to. Why the hell was everybody thinking they could treat him like a puppet on a string? Why was everybody thinking that he would just accept knowing only what was necessary? And why was everybody thinking that they had to decide what was necessary and what wasn't?

Merlin, he wanted to scream! Not even a time travel like this was enough to find one human being that did not boss him around! Then he could just as well go back and dance to Dumbledore's pipe.

And yet … When he'd arrived at the rift he stopped, sweating and panting, instead of walking straight through it. He put his hands on his hips and glared at the shimmering surface. His head was empty, not a single thought crossed his mind, just as if they'd become tired after all these years of brooding and finally come to rest.

Severus barked a mirthless laugh, closed his eyes and tilted his head back. A warm gust of wind blew his hair from his face and drove the scent of flowers and a nearing rain shower into his nose. The leaves were rustling like waves on the coast of northern England.

But when a branch cracked next to him, he tore his eyes open and whirled around. The Stupefy was virtually in his wand when he recognised Granger and he was barely able to stop the curse – not that it would have been necessary. "What do you want?" he snapped and lowered his wand.

"I want to stop you."

"Why? I cannot stay."

"Not forever, no. But … you can for a while."

Severus rubbed his eyes. "What for?" he breathed. "What am I supposed to stay for if I have to go back anyway?" Only when he looked back at her he remembered who exactly he was talking to and that he should be ashamed of getting carried away in front of a student. He straightened his back.

"Trust me, sir," Granger replied in a warm voice. "Give me a chance."

He regarded her for quite a while. And to his own surprise, he nodded before he imposed a condition: "Only if you will answer my questions."

"I will – when the time has come."

"And when will that be?"

She smiled fleetingly. "You will see."

But that was not enough. "How do you know when the time has come?"

Granger took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, just as if she was contemplating whether or not she could answer this question. And apparently, she once again chose the latter since she repeated: "Trust me. Please."

Severus scrunched up his nose. "Trust …" he muttered. How he hated that word!

She lowered her eyes. "I know, I'm asking a lot of you."

"But?" he prompted when she lapsed into silence.

"No but," she said and shook her head. "I'm asking a lot of you and I hope that you can grant it."

Severus looked away and his eyes once again found the rift. Thinking about going back now made his hair stand on end. Did he really have anything to lose if he stayed for a little longer? Granger – and by now he was positive that it was really her – obviously knew a lot that he did not. And she would not risk letting the Dark Lord win. If she said that he could stay then … he could probably trust her. "Very well," he mumbled.

"Good," she sighed. "Do you want to walk or Apparate back?"

"Walk," he said and when she nodded and turned to the path, he added: "Alone."

She froze and regarded him for a second. But then she seemed to realise that she couldn't demand trust from him if she wasn't ready to return the favour, and nodded. "Alright. See you later." The next moment, she disappeared. Severus sighed gravely and ran his hands down his damp face before he slowly set off.

The next morning, there was a loud knocking at the door downstairs and Severus woke with a start – only to knock his head at a truss. Hard. Swearing vilely, he rubbed his forehead, ducked deeper than necessary underneath the truss, and put his feet on the ground.

Who the hell was visiting Granger so early that not even he was awake?

But when he went downstairs about ten minutes later – with a saturnine, a very saturnine look – he realised that his inner clock probably wasn't quite adjusted to this time. Granger was up and about as well and she did not seem as if she'd been startled awake, not in the slightest.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted him and smiled.

He growled.

"Oh, so this is him?"

That nosy question caused him to look for the guest. He spotted a young woman with red hair, tied into pigtails and curled up her head. "This is who?" he asked.

"Yes, that's him," Granger replied without minding his demur.

The brown eyes of the stranger grew wider, her lips forming an O. Then she put a tortoise down on the kitchen table and came closer. She openly looked him up and down, surrounded him, and eventually clicked her tongue. "Now I understand why you waited for so long, Mione."

"I beg your pardon?" Severus asked indignantly.

Granger rolled her eyes and blushed faintly. "Stop it!"

"Stop what?" the stranger asked innocently and grinned.

"First of all, stop looking at me like that," Severus snarled, "lest you will regret it."

She incredulously turned to Granger. "He's serious," she informed the redhead.

Her gaze returned to Severus. "Handsome and dangerous," she mumbled, prompting a bewildered look from both, himself and Granger. But she didn't even seem to notice since she only smiled to herself, pivoted on the spot, and took the tortoise back up. She gently stroked its shell.

"I um … think it better when you go, Wendelin. We'll meet tonight in the village, okay?"

"Alright." The stranger that was apparently punished with the name Wendelin snatched an apple from the table and headed to the door.

"And be on time!" Granger admonished her.

"I always am!"

"No, you're not."

"It was just that one time …" she sighed.

"That one time almost blew our cover! Isobel could have died!"

"Ugh, I know, I will be on time. I promise!"

"Great!"

While the women were talking, Severus narrowed his eyes and mused. Wendelin … witch burnings … That rang a bell. But only when the door closed behind her with a click, did something in his mind click as well. "That is Wendelin the Weird?" he blurted.

"Indeed," Granger confirmed, openly amused, and sat down at the table. "I never really believed that she was real either. Until I met her."

Severus blinked several times before he went to the table as well, taking a seat. "Where did she get the tortoise?"

"20th century Dublin." Granger sounded as casual as if she was talking about the weather. Only when she noticed his cocked eyebrow she added: "As it turned out, Wendelin is not at all a witch of this century but has found the same rift that we found, albeit shortly after it opened. And because she's more curious and impulsive than is good for her she has gone through it. More than once."

"I … did not expect that," he admitted.

"Neither did I." She smiled lop-sided. "But I'm very glad about it. Without her help, I would have been left stranded, historical education or not. Do you want some coffee?"

"I'd rather like to know what you want to meet Wendelin the Weird for. Or hasn't the time come yet?"

Granger answered his question with a little laugh. It sounded so much like the laugh that he'd overheard at Hogwarts every now and then that he shied back on his chair by instinct, just as if he'd got too close to her again. But she didn't seem to notice, probably because she was just getting up to fetch the coffee. "There is no right time for that. But it would be more fun if you would let yourself be surprised."

"Of course, it would," he growled.

She grinned at him mischievously. "Oh, don't be so grumpy, sir! And besides: You do know the lores of Wendelin the Weird. And I promised you a witch burning yesterday. So you're only missing the finer details – and the Polyjuice Potion you found in my lab yesterday is one of them." She sat down again and her joy gave way to genuine kindness. "Try thinking about that for a while instead of everything you left behind on the other side of the rift."

He pursed his lips.

"And go outside! The sun is shining and there is a bench on the eastern side of the house. When did you last sit down in the sun?"

Severus lowered his eyes for the truth was: He could not remember. He'd always been busy in the last years, even in summer. And Spinner's End wasn't really the right place for something like sitting down in the sun anyway.

So he heeded Granger's advice, even though with a scoff as a matter of principle, took his mug and went outside to sit down on a bench in the sun.

The following evening finally gave him some of the answers to the questions that he lately had indeed thought more about than about Dumbledore and the Dark Lord – even though that might only have been due to the fact that the both of them were about five hundred years away. He could tell because asking for the date had indeed been graced with an answer by Granger: "It is the 25th of May 1488, sir." She'd said it with a grin, probably because she knew from experience how such a date felt if you normally characterised yourself as a child of the 20th century. "You do get used to it eventually …"

"For sure," he grunted and already wanted to leave when he faltered. "Do you think the witch-hunts are the second powerful event that created the rift in time?"

She hunched her shoulder. "I assume as much. At least I haven't found anything hinting at another event during this time." She sighed softly. "I thought it … amusing when we talked about Wendelin in class. That she liked being burned because the flames couldn't harm her. But that only applies to very few witches. There are hardly any wands available here, wand making is still in the early stages of development – at least as we know it. And the wands that are available are extremely expensive. I brought some from our time but communication between witches and wizards is … lousy. Most of them take care not to be recognised as magical – and understandably so – but that makes things difficult. Most of the witches and wizards, however, are only marginally able to use wandless magic and they are better at igniting a fire than at extinguishing it – not to mention casting a flame-freezing charm. I think more real witches have been burned than the history books tell us."

"Probably," he said softly. And if he remembered correctly then the era of the witch-hunts just began in the 15th century. On this side, the rift had to stretch across centuries if the witch-hunts really were the other pole of the loop.

And yet, in the evening Granger was vibrating with joyous anticipation and equipped Severus with a more suitable attire and a translation charm. "Just in case somebody wants to talk to you …" she said as she did so and he was glad about it even though he would never tell her. The English of this time was completely different than the English he spoke. And in this small part of the world, it was probably mixed with ancient Gaelic. But Granger didn't cast the charm on herself and he couldn't stop himself from wondering for how long she'd already have to have been here for her to learn this language sufficiently to get along without magical help. But she most likely wouldn't answer that question anyway. "Take care that nobody sees your wand," was the only thing she said before their departure.

"Naturally."

And so he was now standing in the middle of the neighbouring village's marketplace. The mild summer wind toyed with his loose attire while he was watching the crowd of people that roared and howled while the last arrangements at the stake were being made. Granger was standing next to him, her eyes roving over the crowd, without a doubt looking for Wendelin.

A blend of many scents hovered in the air, carried by the wind. Most prominent, of course, the smell of fire; even though the stake hadn't been ignited yet, smaller and larger fires were burning everywhere to provide light and prepare some food. That he could smell as well, more intensively than he would have preferred. But what appalled him the most was the multitude of body scents, sewage, and dirt. It wasn't a particularly clean century that he'd ended up in.

Granger chuckled when she saw him scrunch his nose. "You …"

"I know," he cut in, "you do get used to it."

Eventually, Wendelin emerged from the crowd. "There you are," Hermione said. "Ready then?"

"Totally ready."

"Ready for what?" Severus asked.

"You will see." Granger grabbed his arm and dragged him along into a dirty but deserted alley. Wendelin followed behind. "We will Apparate," Granger briefed him, about two seconds before he was squeezed through a keyhole.

Severus gasped and stumbled when they arrived at their destination while Granger muttered an Imperturbatio. Merlin, he hated side-along-Apparitions … When he'd regained his balance, he looked around – and found that they were in a prison cell. "What the hell …" he muttered.

"Cristiana!" Wendelin cried and he turned around to her. A woman in a filthy camisole was crouched against the wall in the rear part of the cell.

"Wendy!" she called, staggered to her feet and threw herself into Wendelin's arms.

"We don't have time for that," Granger intervened and fetched a vial from her pocket. And even though he was able to understand her, Severus noticed that she was speaking another language now, another English, Gaelic, something in between. He watched her mouth in fascination. "I need a hair from you," she was just saying and Severus blinked.

"Yes, of course," the woman named Cristiana mumbled and drew her fingers through her hair until one of them stuck. "There you go!" Since she seemed surprised neither by them appearing out of thin air nor by Granger putting her hair into a vial, Severus assumed that she was one of the real witches. And slowly he began to understand what was happening.

"That's what you need the Polyjuice Potion for," he said (now in a different language himself, although he wasn't able to control it) and watched Granger passing the vial along to Wendelin. The redhead had undressed to her undergarment in the meantime and now gestured him to turn around, probably so the women could completely exchange their clothes.

"Theoretically I wouldn't need it," Granger explained and sounded a tad bit taunting, "but at least this part of the history books is accurate: Wendelin likes getting burned at the stake, so she takes over for every woman we can get out of here …"

"It tickles so pleasantly," Wendelin remarked.

"Yeah, sure," Granger groaned. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, you can turn around again."

When Severus did, he was face to face with two Cristianas, one of them in a filthy camisole, the other one in the dress that Wendelin had worn before.

"Great. Then hand me your wand and we take Cristiana away so we're back in time."

"That would be nice," the Cristiana who in reality was Wendelin replied and passed Granger her wand.

"I will not let you burn," she promised and reached out one arm for Cristiana, the other one for him.

Severus twisted his face; he would rather have Apparated by himself but since he didn't know where they were heading he had no choice but to endure another side-along-Apparition.

It carried them to the edge of a wood and Cristiana gasped just like him. "Are both of you complete?" Granger asked.

"Yes," Severus growled and Cristiana nodded.

"Just a little nauseous," she mumbled.

"That will pass. Heli?" She called the last word out loud and Severus looked around warily.

Soon he heard someone getting closer. "I'm here!"

"Brilliant! I need to go back, Wendelin was late again."

"Alright," the woman named Heli panted, "I'm here, I'll look after Cristiana."

"Good luck!" the newly freed woman said while she took a cloak Heli had brought.

"Same to you," Granger replied, "take care!" The two women Disapparated and Granger turned to face him. "Do you want to return on your own?"

"Absolutely," he snarled and she nodded at him curtly before she disappeared herself. Severus huffed, then he focussed and followed her.

Granger was nowhere to be seen when he emerged from the dirty alley and returned to the marketplace, and so he positioned himself at the side and watched the happenings for about fifteen minutes. Wendelin was led to the stake, her hands tied, and the crowd started jeering and roaring again. The witch was pelted with something that Severus assumed was old vegetables but he couldn't see it clearly. When the flames were greedily licking at the piled-up logs, working their way up to the woman sitting at the top of it, he shook his head and leaned against one of the houses, his arms crossed. Wendelin was screaming like a banshee, begging for mercy, fighting against the cords. If he hadn't known that Granger had had enough time to cast the necessary spells he would have been absolutely positive that she was really been burned.

But when Granger found him eventually she was grinning. "Well? Are you enjoying the spectacle?" she asked and he had to lean down a bit to be able to understand her. Her warm breath tickled his ear.

"How often have you performed this show already?" he asked back but he tried not to get closer to her than strictly necessary even though she was smelling quite pleasant – contrary to most of the other people surrounding them. He was tempted to cast Muffliato over them but he didn't dare draw his wand.

"This is the eighth time."

"You seem to enjoy it quite a lot."

"Why should I not?" She looked around and whispered straight into his ear: "It is … quite satisfying to save at least a few lives."

Goosebumps crawled down Severus's spine and he moved back. He scrutinised her face with narrowed eyes, her blushed cheeks, her tongue that darted out, wetting her lips. "Really?"

"Don't you feel the same?"

He turned away and shifted his weight to his other foot. "I don't remember," he said softly and hoped that she hadn't heard him. There had not been that many lives to save for him lately. More often than not he'd had to stand by and watch people die.

Eventually, he nodded at the stake. "What is your plan for the escape? They will notice that she's not burning."

"I've transfigured some of the logs into deceptively real-looking bodily remains when the flames were high enough. And Wendelin wears a ring, hidden by a delusion charm. It is a Portkey and as soon as the flames hide her she will activate it with a password and it takes her home. There she will have a wash and wait until the Polyjuice Potion wears off. And then she will come back here and mingle with the crowd." Once again the tip of her tongue traced her lips. "After the burning, there will be a feast, sir."

Severus would have liked nothing better than to return to Granger's house when said feast began. He hated parties, he hated dancing, and he hated loud people, especially if they happened to be Muggles. Here he found all of it in abundance.

But Granger seemed to like it, at least enough to have her fun. And Severus had surprisingly much fun watching her.

Hogwarts was hosting too few balls and feasts for him to have seen her so radiant ever before. And even if, he would probably not have taken such a close look. She was his student, after all, and twenty years his junior. It would have never entered his head watching her there as he was watching her here.

Because everything was different here. She was no student, he was no teacher, not at the moment. And she was no longer twenty years his junior but only ten or eleven. It didn't feel as indecent anymore to watch her dance. It probably should but no. The more time Severus spent here the less important all of the rules of his time became.

And Granger seemed to sense that as well because at one point along the night she grabbed his arm and dragged him out to the marketplace where a lot of people were dancing to the music of a group of farmers that had brought their instruments. "Absolutely not," he objected and dug his heels into the ground.

"Oh, come on! You can't just be standing over there scowling the whole time! That's not what you're here for!"

"What am I here for?" he countered but he sensed his resistance fading.

She looked up at him panting, some hairs were sticking to her sweaty face, and her cheeks were blushed. "To be able to do what needs to be done," she said and her brown eyes twinkled. "Come on!"

So he complied. And because he'd never danced like this (Lucius had only taught him some standard dances for the balls he'd visited at Malfoy Manor in his youth but nothing of that equalled this) he had to let Granger lead. Her hand was warm in his and there was no doubt that they were now decidedly closer to each other than it had ever been imaginable in their time. Her scent tickled his nostrils, her eyes hold onto his, so intensely as if she was attempting to use Legilimency at him. But she didn't. And he didn't either. He wanted the answers she'd promised him, but he didn't want them that way.

"Why did you stay here, Miss Granger?" he asked when he couldn't stand the eye contact any second longer.

"Why not?" she inquired in a loud voice while her hair momentarily blocked his view of her cherry cheeks.

He leaned closer. "Because you could have done more good in our time than to save some unlucky witches' lives. Do you even realise how much you have sacrificed?"

"Who says I've sacrificed anything?" she laughed. "Granted, my career was a sacrifice but this makes me happy as well. And I'm over there regularly. Or did you think my friends would have just let me leave? Let alone my parents …" She bit her lower lip. "There's nothing I'm missing out on, sir."

Severus stared at her. Well, she had hinted that she'd crossed the rift multiple times already, after all, she'd got some wands. But that she was commuting between the times like other people between home and work, that he hadn't anticipated. "You never get enough, do you? It is not enough to get the best out of one time, it has to be the best of two times," he hissed and when he whirled her around for the next time it got a tad harder than he'd planned.

Granger flashed her eyes at him when she stumbled back and hesitated for a second before she said: "Jealous, sir?" And again, the tip of her tongue slid out between her lips.

His eyes darted to her mouth, he couldn't stop himself. Growling softly, he grabbed her harder, pulled her close, and muttered: "My jealousy has to be earned, Granger!" Then he let her go and slashed his way through the crowd.

"How does one earn your jealousy?" her voice called after him while he neared the edge of the woods. He'd had enough of the feast, he wanted to leave, although he wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go yet – to Granger's house or back to his own time.

"Certainly not like this!" he replied briskly but didn't slow down.

Much to his regret she caught up to him, though, grabbed his arm, and turned him around to face her. "Really?" she asked, panting heavily. "Because as furious as it makes you I've got another impression."

"You don't know me when I'm furious," Severus snarled. He struggled out of her grip but he stayed where he was.

"Yes, I know you when you are furious," Granger countered with a mirthless smile. "I've been there, with Harry in the infirmary after Sirius had escaped at the end of our third year. I've heard you roar, long before you even entered the infirmary. I know you when you are furious, sir. And that I jump between the times, from one peaceful period to another, taking what I want, doing what I want, and especially not doing what I don't want, that is making you furious."

He took a deep breath and held it, his heart thumping in step with the rhythm of the music in the marketplace. Against his rips and up into his throat. "How couldn't it?", he hissed eventually. "How could I see you like this and not be furious?"

Granger nodded. "Yeah, how could you?" She lowered her eyes to where his hand was, a clenched fist and he hadn't even noticed it. She touched it and Severus flinched back.

"What are you doing, Miss Granger?" He emphasised her name, reminding her of who she was and who he was.

She gulped. "I um … I cannot give you what you want right now. I cannot change that you have to do something that you don't want to do." She raised her eyes. "I would love to. I would love to spare you all of it." She pinned her lips closed and tears were glistening in her eyes. "But everything I can give you is a few days of doing what you want. And I hope …" She swallowed and her gaze darted to his lips. Then she raised herself on tiptoes and kissed him.

Severus inhaled sharply and stepped back, grabbing her shoulders. "Miss Granger! You forget yourself!"

She laughed briefly and nodded. "Yes, absolutely! And I offer you to do the same." She raised her hands and took his from her shoulders, holding on to them. Her fingers were a little cold. "I no longer am who you think I am. And I know who you are. I've seen it. Everything. And I stayed here. For you."

"Only so I can do what is necessary," he snarled. "And this is absolutely not necessary for me to do what needs to be done."

"No," she admitted quietly, "but maybe for you to be able to survive." She was mum for some rapid breaths, held his hands, stroked them with her thumbs. "And for … me to do what needs to be done," she then added softly.

Severus frowned. "What are you talking about, girl?"

Another brief laugh and a tear dropped onto her cheek. "About more than two years of arithmantic calculations and analyses of the time rift and women that were to be executed for something that I fought for during my whole childhood. That I sacrificed so much for. I'm tired of sacrificing." She brushed her cheek. "Aren't you, Severus?"

He wanted to look away. Had been so sure that his name out of her mouth would give him the impulse he needed. That it would remind him, like the snap of a whip, who he was and who she was and that there still were rules that not even five hundred years could overcome.

But he didn't look away. Didn't look away for long seconds, only stared into her brown eyes that seemed black in the dim light of the late evening. Or maybe it was her pupils that were dilated, swallowing the brown iris. Whatever it was, he did not look away and her words seeped into him like a warm shiver, down his spine, and the deeper they seeped, the more he forgot who he was.

"Yes," he mumbled eventually and her little hitched breath finally was an impulse – albeit none that made him look away. Before Severus could think about all of this too deeply, he forgot himself and kissed her. And he hadn't even realised what he was doing when Granger Apparated.

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