It might be easy to think that our lives are just a series of unrelated events-events that are provoked by the random decisions of other people.
That is incorrect. All events are, in fact, related to one anouther and if one looks very closely, they can find they are not random at all. They are all part of a grand picture.
In the magical universe, much like our own Muggle one, there are forces that lie dormant in other layers of reality. Kind of like onions, where one layer can be mushy and spotty while the one beneath it can be white and crisp. And once in a while, these dormant forces come into contact with the magical world.
Malva had awoken, gasping for air and trying to situate herself in space. Last she remembered, she had fallen in the forest. She was running from her father's cottage and suddenly...the sounds of the world stopped reaching her ears.
She barely remembered what she was running from, or what had made her so...emotional. But there was no use for contemplation now.
She usually relied on her astute sense of hearing, her smell and her touch. She could feel the cool, rigid stone of the walls as she ran her hands down them. Rising, she began to recognize the notches and ridges of a windowless and door-less room. Her voice echoed off the walls.
"Hello?" she cried out. "Hello!"
She was shivering and the entire place smelled of minerals and stone and mould.
"Gods," she said under her breath and sat down. She wrapped her shawl tightly about her shoulders. Bad luck never comes alone.
Why had she been sent back to the world of the living? Was there something left for her to prove?
She sat for quite some time, thinking of her father and her sisters. She thought of her husband too. She was certain he was an awful person, but she'd be happy for his presence now. She was so cold and so alone.
She bit back a tear. Revinians never cried. She'd think of something soon. One never wasted a life, never mind a second chance at one.
-x-x-x-
"I've got it!" cried Astoria as she barged in through the door with an enormous stack of books floating before her.
She looked around the room, but finding no better surface, set the books down onto the floor of Spinner's End. The entire place was covered in socks: red socks, white socks, blue socks, striped socks, polka dot socks, wool socks, even a cheeky pair of pantyhose socks.
"What's all this...laundry?" she asked Snape, who was at present taping up his last box and setting it into a ginormous pile of brown packages. They all had the return address: Spinner's End, Cokeworth, England and were addressed to every corner of the world she could imagine. Most were for Pureblood family homes in England, but there were other names she'd never seen before: Cantonese, Russian, Spanish, American, Icelandic, French...even Egyptian.
"Oh, pen pals?"
"House elves," he said. "It appears that my wonderful spouse has once again decided to grace the world with an Elvish Welfare campaign."
Astoria's heart skipped an uneven beat. "Aww," she cooed. "You're helping Hermione with all that? That's very sweet of you."
The wizard grimaced. Sweet was not a trait he wished to adopt as part of his brooding, dark, one-man-show image. He worked very on his appearance. But he said nothing to Miss Greengrass.
The only thing worse than being labelled sweet was being labelled useless. His mother made certain to instill that in him from a young age. They had been a working class family and after every sixty seconds, a minute passed. If Severus was under house arrest then why not make himself useful to his fictive, future wife.
"What was your reason for coming here?"
"Oh!" Astoria clung onto a book and hastily flipped it over. "Have you heard of Hemming Occultus?
"Demonology: A World of Layers Beyond?" Severus harrumphed. "A fad of the medieval era." He was sure he was given such a book by a well meaning former student and used it as emergency loo-paper.
"No, no, this is the redacted version." She flipped through and showed him a picture of a jewelled box. Severus' eyes zeroed in. He'd seen this before!
"The Ancient Spell Box."
Astoria withdrew a picture with a similar box, hand drawn.
"Hermione's asked me to look for something of this sort, and I think it's called an Ancient Love Spell Box." She traced the words in the book. "Love Magic, the most powerful and ancient of all, must be kept hidden away due to the large deposit of chaotic energy. It can manifest itself in various forms when summoned in dire situations (e.g. when one of the casters is facing death or destruction). The residual can sometimes take the shape of an unusual facial marking, unique new abilities or a non-corporal energy such as a..."
"Spell."
"Correct!"
"We've seem this before." Severus took the book and began to pace about the room, his house-cloak billowing behind him. "It appears one must confront the very object that gave the person in question the manifestation in order to release it. However, that very confrontation could result it-" He stopped. "Death."
Astoria swallowed. "Or maybe not! We read the story of Corvinus and Malva. He thought she was dead and kissed her. There is no ending-"
"If the object can be a non-corporal item-" Severus reasoned. "Or-"
Then he promptly dashed upstairs, Astoria hot on his heels.
He walked into the bedroom and began to throw and toss the sheets about.
What is he looking for? Astoria thought to herself as Snape tossed aside everything but the mattress.
Finally, that went up too. Snape had to use his physical force for that, and when he finally did, realized it had been a very long time since he exercised his strength.
The mattress groaned and fell off the side of the bed, moving the frame along with it revealing the traces of something beneath the carpet.
"Lift the bed," he instructed the young witch.
The result left them both speechless.
Under the bed frame, on the old wooden floor, was a faded pentagram. Five points, one circle and an array of ancient symbols surrounding it.
"Obviously," Severus murmured, although the design was not obvious at all.
"We should wait for Hermione," Astoria reasoned, sensing the wheels turning in his mind. Pentagrams meant trouble and Hermione was well prepared to deal with that.
Severus smiled. "Best not to bother my wife at work."
-x-x-x-
They were both sitting on the floor now, the bed relocated with magic to a different side of the room. The curtains were drawn and the candles were lit.
Snape insisted on the eerie set-up as it was the proper way of addressing the non-physical world. Astoria was not so sure the spirits payed attention to such trivialities and she thought they'd much rather prefer to be summoned into a warm and inviting room with lights and flowers. Surely the Underworld was gloomy enough.
"Shouldn't we mop the floor or something-"
"Quieeett." Severus rolled up the sleeves of his cloak. The house-coat and slippers were gone and replaced by his quintessential black ensemble. He figured he should look presentable for the demons, even if they happened to be the low-ranking kind. That was also a rule his mother instilled in him.
He set a candle on each point of the pentagram. The pentagram looked more pronounced now. All that was needed was an offering for the spawn of darkness.
He turned slowly so the candles lit dark shadows over his cheekbones and eyes. "Miss Greengrass, are you... untainted?"
"Excuse me?"
"Have you pierced the hogshead?" He sighed. "Have you engaged in the act of intercourse?"
She let out an undignified grunt and wrapped her arms neatly about her body.
He took that as a yes. Modern witches did make it rather difficult to perform occult rituals. Severus gazed around the room.
"Where is the Kneazle?"
Astoria made a high pitched sound of protest. "You can't sacrifice Crookshanks to the underworld!"
Pity.
"I only require a few whiskers," he said. "The beast is too old for sacrifice."
Second to virgin's blood, demons liked cat whiskers, an uncommon fact. They used them to tickle their victims in the Underworld. If ancient people of the world knew that, perhaps human sacrifice would be less common. Then again, the ancient Egyptians got something right.
Crookshanks, as most cats, put up a good chase, but eventually an offering of liquid salmon paste had the puss in a more pleasant state of mind. Severus suffered only a mild scratch before obtaining three pristine white whiskers and placing them on a small plate in the centre of the pentagram.
He closed his eyes and took Astoria's hand, starting a low and sonorous hum.
The entire star lit up and a bright cloudy beam of light came out of the middle.
Severus had only performed a Summoning Ritual once in his life. It was during his sixth year at Hogwarts and him and the lads had been smoking the pipe and decided to crack open a restricted Spell Book for some good ol' Friday night fun. Typical Slytherin weekends.
He lowered his voice and chanted. "Ancient Spirits, Souls between Dimensions, present yourselves to me!"
"-to us."
"-to us."
The cloud of light grew brighter and when the light died down, in the middle sat a woman with frizzy brown hair and a bleak expression. She stood up, feeling out her surroundings with her hands. The room grew cold and began to smell of an old basement or an abandoned autumn greenhouse.
"Let me try," Astoria whispered and made her voice just as low and solemn as Snape's. "State your name demon!"
The Apparition grimaced. "I am not a demon, thank you very much. And who are you?"
"S-sorry." Astoria looked crestfallen, but recovered quickly. "I'm Astoria and this is Mr Snape of...Cokeworth...and we wanted to ask you some questions about the Love Spell, if that's alright."
The Apparition regained composure. "I am Malva, of Revina. I might know of this Love Spell, but I can't be so certain."
Severus grumbled. Barters. It was always that way with demons. Being broke sixth years, they didn't get very far with their own summoning back in the day. But times have clearly been kinder to him in this universe and he was desperate for answers.
"Name your price."
She thought for a moment. "I wish to be freed from this place."
"Then you've appeared at the correct address."
"What's an address?"
Severus rubbed his forehead. "My wife and I have woken up married in this dimension." He said rather dismally.
Malva looked at Astoria. "I am sorry."
Astoria blushed. "Oh I'm not his wife."
"Then I am sorry twice-fold," Malva scowled.
"We touched an old magical artifact," Severus said.
"Would that artifact happen to be...a box?" Malva asked.
"It was. An ancient jewellery box of sorts," Astoria said. "We can find it-" She earned a quick jab from Severus. Quiet, he mumbled under his break let me do the talking.
Malva's eyes lit up hungrily. "And you can open this box?"
"I'm afraid that is two questions," Severus said. "Tell us about the Love Spell. What do you last remember?"
Malva frowned. Clearly these two people were going to make her escape very difficult. "I was running from my village. I tripped and I don't remember anything else. Now I'm here...in some box. Tell me how I can open it?"
"I'm afraid that is not specific enough," Severus said. "Were there any specific phrases or images or indications before you were transported?"
"I've told you all I know," Malva said, a touch more icy. "Now tell me if there's a key or a lock..."
"Did you hear a word or feel something-" Astoria prodded.
"Do you know what caused the curse?"
"I know just as much as you," Malva said.
"Demon, speak more clearly," Severus said. "We demand clarity in exchange for your freedom. What must we do to end the curse-"
"Enough!" Malva bit back. "If you don't know how to free me, there is no point telling you anything else. I'm already sitting here alone!"
With that, the image became more foggy and dissapeared.
Severus groaned, hitting his fist against the floor. "Insolent demon."
Astoria shivered. "I think you've spooked her. If we just told her the truth-"
"One does not simply tell demons the truth," Severus said. "It is a cardinal rule of occult. What you give will be taken back in equal measure and demons do not play fair."
"She looked like a scared young woman."
Don't be a fool," Severus said. "If demons looked like demons, nobody would fall for their schemes."
Astoria considered the words. Well that made sense. But deep inside she felt that Malva was telling the truth, that she was in part human-a human that needed their sympathies and help. Perhaps Hermione could talk some truth into her husband. The state he was in now, there was no use changing his mind.
-x-x-x-
Kingsley watched as his Aurors came up to the podium to present their cases. Since the fall of Voldemort, the worst sorts of things that could happen to the Magical World were a small scale robbery in Diagon Alley or unlawful magic-use when a wiccan got a bit too foxed on vacation in a Muggle resort.
He had hoped his best Aurors, Harry Potter and Hermione would step forth with an update on the missing artifact case-the Love Spell. Instead, they presented him with the complaints of Gringotts' goblins threatening to strike if the heating in the vaults was not raised. Something about poor working conditions. He wiped his bald head and propped open his eyes, listening to anouther report of a Kneazle stuck in a tree when the ground began to shake beneath his feet.
"Meeting dismissed!" he cried, all to excitedly.
He raced up the stairs to his office and slammed the door shut.
The moment he had been waiting for for an entire year was about to happen again.
Kingsley moved a painting of Minister Scrimgeour on his wall and revealed an old safe. Twisting open the vault with a few magic incantations, he removed from within a copy of the Marauder's Map. He had commissioned a certain Weasley to help him develop an extensive copy of the artifact in exchange for funding his shop and giving his father a promotion in the Ministry. George had done his work well- with the map now showing all areas of Wizarding England and beyond.
Kingsley peered at the map and murmured, 'Point me."
A point on the map lit up, a point that was at present flickering.
"Unknown occupant," it read.
And what was more mysterious is that the flickering dot had appeared in the house on Spinner's End in Cokeworth.
"Hermione Snape's residence?" Kingsley blinked his eyes. There were two dots surrounding the unknown element. "Severus Snape. Astoria Greengrass."
Suddenly the dot flickered and dissapeared altogether. "No, no, noo." He groaned.
Now Kingsley was no fool. Severus Snape had been detained some days ago for a supposed brawl in a pub. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Astoria Greengrass? She was the new librarian at Hogwarts.
The only thing an ex-spy and a librarian could be doing at home with an unknown person between them...Kingsley could use his imagination.
No wonder Hermione had produced no valuable information for him on the missing artifact case. Kingsley's expression darkened. There were no coincidences in the Magical World.
All big bad things started with a little secret.
And judging by the events of the last decade, all bad things seemed to involve Severus Snape, Harry Potter and Hermione.
This was going to make for a long night. Kingsley couldn't trust anybody, but he was going to have to choose an accomplice in the matter.
Magic like this, Love Magic, could not fall into the wrong hands. When it had some decades ago, the world he knew was nearly destroyed by a Dark Wizard and two handfuls or Horcruxes. Nobody was prepared for the scale of mishaps, the sheer chaos the magic caused. There were so many needless deaths. Kingsley was in charge now and he was not going to get a repeat of 1998.
But there was anouther reason, a very human one. They never did get to study Harry Potter's infamous scar. Kingsley could imagine the amount of power contained within the mark, power that could be harnessed to make Britain's next great weapon. With the Spell returned, they could finally know what Love Magic was. And that, that was going to make Magical Britain great again. Undefeated. Indestructible.
-x-x-x-
Severus and Astoria had the face of two petulant children caught in the act of doing something naughty.
"We weren't summoning any demons," Astoria said quickly.
Hermione grimaced. "Severus Tobias Snape, I had specifically directed you not to do anything magical in my absence. In fact, not to do anything at all!"
"You are not my keeper, witch," he said darkly. Severus was once more dressed in his dark teaching robes and looked all the more menacing than he had in her youth. She could picture him now standing before a boiling cauldron, deducting House Points and sending her to detention.
The image alone proved effective on Hermione, her legs getting wobbly. She had to take a seat, else she lost balance from all the Apparating she had to do on Kinglsey's latest missions.
"Summoning Demons is not traditional magic, it is a separate branch of occult which is why even Muggles can do it," Severus explained.
"And Muggles can do it, but it doesn't mean you should," Hermione said with a huff. "Imagine Kinglsey's or anyone in the Wizengamot found you engaged in something of the sort before your trial. It won't look good on your record."
"On the record of an innocent man trailed for assault against a drunk-"
"On account of a potentially dangerous suspect with a poor track record who is living in the house of an Auror for the Ministry."
"I am more than capable of evocation. And I very well know the laws, well enough to know that there would be no magical traces left from our actions as they do not fall under the umbrella of ordinary magic."
"Those methods of tracking have long since improved."
"A fool I am not, Granger, as for you-it seems I overestimated your loyalty to our case."
Hermione froze. "Why is it that every time you're wrong, you insult others instead of apologizing?"
Snape's eyes flashed. Not angrily though, as they had when he was in a sour mood, but rather knowingly. But he said nothing, And he took a seat on the sofa opposite of Astoria.
"Sooo, anyone care to hear about the demon we summoned?" Astoria piped in. "Malva? Can I buy a vowel?"
That was certainly much more interesting than debating with her incorrigible husband. Hermione sat on the sofa opposite Severus and placing the cushion between them. When the story was finished, she said,
"Her story is incomplete. If we are a mirror of the-"
"I believed we dispelled that theory."
"Malva and Corvinus," she continued stubbornly. "They were in love, or at least he was...he trapped her into marrying him. When she discovered the truth, she had tragically passed and he kissed her, sending her into a sort of in-between world. And now, she's all alone. Like he sacrificed himself to give her anouther chance at living, but he himself disappeared in the process."
Astoria shivered. "Sounds like a shoddy type. An ugly outcast with a bad track record and a penchant for seducing unsuspecting young women who don't want anything to do with him and who are going to marry someone else."
Severus shifted in his seat. "We hardly know anything about his motivations."
"He clearly wanted to be with his Malva. He didn't want her left alone." Hermione stiffened. "Someone has to join her." Her eyes fell inadvertently to Severus. Astoria's too.
"Do you think Snape is Corvinus' mirror?" Astoria said.
He snarled. "Draco Lucius Malfoy I will smite you."
"It makes sense."
"Absolutely not."
"Severus how could you be so bloody stubborn," Hermione cried.
"You would join her in my place?"
"If I could, I would."
He smirked. "Somehow I doubt that."
"You can doubt all you want," she replied coolly. "I'm going to bed, and I suggest you do the same. That's before any of us can cause any more mishaps." She turned. "Thank you, Astoria."
And that was that.
-x-x-x-
Severus paced back and forth in the living room. Why did he have to sleep on the sofa of his ancestral home?
He rose up to the bedroom where Hermione was sitting on the bed, brushing out her curls. It was the unspoken rule now that they were both home that he should sleep downstairs, but the unspoken rule did not suit him. He didn't ask to be married to her. He gave her the house as a common courtesy, and yes he had done some rather unsavoury acts in his absence, but he also slept crummily in Rosmerta's pub and was craving his mattress. And she had brought home Potter, his least favourite person and had the audacity to have Crookshanks leave his hair all over the home. She enjoyed the comfort for long enough.
Severus knocked on the door. "I believe it is my turn to sleep in my bedroom."
"No," she said coldly.
"I do not appreciate your tone."
"You will receive the tone that you deserve."
"Nonsense," he said, crossing into the bedroom. "As your husband, I deserve some courtesy."
"Fake husband."
"Not in this universe."
She looked at him in a 'we're going to go there' sort of fashion and slowly lowered her brush.
"As my husband, you should have known better than to Summon a demon while under house arrest."
"I forgot to ask you for permission."
"So this is what it's all about." Hermione crossed her arms. "Ever since we woke up in this very bed, you've been terse with me."
"Terse," he repeated.
"I'm trying to cooperate with you, but every time I suggest something you buck up, throw out an insult or flash me your signature scowl and dissapear. Do you know how frustrating it was to sit here and wait for you to come home?!"
"You've certain kept busy, entertaining Potter."
"You abandoned me for a Ministry event. You left me standing there all alone," she scowled, hair frizzling like it was on fire. "And everyone kept looking at me with those pained expressions."
He laughed shortly. "Hermione Granger. You should be used to others looking at you."
Her voice curled into a dangerous growl. "They were looking at me because my husband was sleeping around with other witches and it was all over the newspapers."
"Surely you cannot believe everything Skeeter writes."
"So it's not true?" Her voice giving away an ounce of hope.
He stiffened, but stayed silent.
"You are jealous?" He couldn't explain it, but the thought of her being envious excited him.
"No."
"I see."
"I just, I just..." she said tapping her feet on the carpet. "I just despise parties."
"I despise parties."
"I was lonely."
"You were lonely at yet anouther Ministry party where you were the centre of attention. What a shame." He was going to make a jab at her receiving an Order of Merlin, but even he knew that was a low blow.
"I had your robes pressed."
"Very well." He said, pushing the words out through his teeth like a cornered dog. "Thank you. For pressing my robes."
"You don't get it," she cried. "It's not about the party or the robes or the newspapers-"
"No," his tone got progressively louder. "It is about the fact that I, the owner of this house, cannot sleep in my bed, Merlin-"
"It's not. About. The bed-"
"Let me talk, witch!"
She was standing now, but so was he, and they were closer than they'd been for days.
"Then talk!" she said. "Speak to me like I'm your equal."
"We are not equal," he snapped. "I am a wizard. You are a witch."
"So that's it?"
He fumed. "You are my wife. I should not have to ask your permission to act as I please."
"So then I should not have to ask you your permission to act as I please." She said hotly. "What if I just decided. Huh. I am feeling lonely. Maybe I should invite Ron to spend the night."
"Weasley," he hissed.
"What would you do?"
He spoke without hesitation. "As your husband. I would duel him."
She went very red. It did not appear that she was angry at him, or rather that she was, but only at the swiftness with which he retaliated.
"You would duel Ron?"
"Without question."
"If I had invited him..."
"He should know better than to accept."
"But I invited him."
"To sully my wife would be to sully my own reputation as a husband."
"And what would you do to me?"
He gave her a glance as old as time itself. She didn't need to ask questions about what it meant, but she shivered in realization.
"Is that how it worked in your family?"
He nodded.
"Did it work out well for you?"
He stayed silent, not needing her to make anouther jab at how he lashed out at her when angry. See, he was improving.
"What is someone had...threatened to dishonour your wife?" she suggested, testing her luck.
He dealt the coup de grace.
She had no next question, the wheels still turning fast in her head. "Listen to us. Like an old-" She stopped. "You had been kinder to me as my Healer. Back before all this..."
"...before I had the responsibility of being a husband."
"Healers are easygoing."
"Husbands are careless."
"That's not true."
She struck him with a pettish smile. He didn't pull a ninth parry. She took her victory with stride.
"Husbands do care."
"For their wives?"
"For his wife."
She jested. "Because of his duty."
"Because you're mine."
She nodded, blushing. "Wife. Do you expect her to cook your dinner and wash the laundry?"
"That would be very subservient of her. However there is magic for both of those actions."
"Wash the floors?"
"Magic."
"Make your appointments?"
"Enchanted journal."
"Massage your back after a long day?"
"Perhaps," he grinned wickedly.
"Have a couple of your children?"
"One to start."
"Please you in bed?"
His breath came out in one hot wave.
"I forgot. You have someone for that."
"Hermione-"
"Please." She swatted him away.
"I warned you that I cannot love you." It didn't stop him from grasping her hand. "I am a men and men...do not love."
He hadn't said those words to anyone before. He didn't have to. Witches knew instinctively he could be theirs for a night. Perhaps for a few. But there would never be anything more than this fleeting attachment. The only reason that he had no one for so long, was because of his wicked reputation as the greasy Potions Master. But now that his reputation improved for the better, his odds at fulfilling his manly duty had returned to status quo.
She let him hold her. Her voice held a tinge of dismay. "That's very sad...that you should think so."
He tested his own luck as well. "Wasn't that how it worked in your family?"
"No." She smiled, likely recollecting her perfectly charmed parental relationship.
"Fortunate for you."
"I know." She said thoughtfully, separating herself from his grasp. "So what do husbands want?"
He considered. "Respect."
"That's all?"
"I'd say it's plenty."
He almost asked "and wives?" but also stopped himself. He had gone too far down the road of debauchery to correct himself in her eyes. The most he could hope for at this point was some degree of regard if he helped her return to their world.
She returned to the bed, saying nothing, and picked up a pillow and a throw blanket. "Very well. Have a good sleep," she said simply and left the room.
Crooks jumped lazily off the dresser, stretched first his his hind legs, then his front legs and followed her out. Then, Severus was truly left alone.
He lay in bed, sighing happily and kicking his feet up on the frame, and yet peace did not come.
He finally said the words aloud to her, words he knew deep within his heart as truth for his entire life. And now that they were out, he wondered if he should have said them at all. They sounded all wrong, all sullied, for better lack of term. And it did not seem Hermione liked them.
He began to wonder why he cared whether they had affected Hermione at all. He looked at the open door. He dug his nose into his pillow which smelled of her hair. Oh. That's right.
It had been some minutes after he kicked off his slippers and was drifting into a meditative pre-sleep trance that her voice cut through the silence.
"I'm sorry about inviting Harry."
"Very well."
"And the Summoning. You and Astoria gave us some answers. Thank you." She paused. "I wasn't going to ask you to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the curse. It was a heavy handed suggestion."
"How thoughtful of you."
It was at that moment that his previous question didn't seem so outlandish. "Would it please you to Summon the spirit yourself?"
"I think it would."
"It can be done." He turned his head away from the door, his eyes suddenly itching. "I apologize for leaving you alone at the party."
"It's okay," she whispered.
"And my previous behaviour." Damn his eyes.
"Alright."
"Hermione?"
"Still here."
He rolled over.
"Would you like to come join me?"
She stepped back. "Best not."
"Very well. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
-x-x-x-
Hermione counted the packages twice.
He packed 312 packages of socks to be shipped off to the House Elves waiting to be set free. And he labelled them all by hand, signing off the address of delivery from her list.
He didn't have to do that, but he did.
Laying on the sofa, she thought about the obvious fact that Severus' bed was much more comfortable and that it could fit two. But he was up there all alone, and she was down here.
Hermione waited until he flicked off the light switch upstairs before tucking herself in, and letting out a giant sob. Why was everything so difficult?
She thought about Ron and the life they could have built. Maybe he was the right choice for her after all? Being married to Severus was definitely different, exciting, and kept her on her toes, but it was also full of frustration and miscommunication. Being married to Ron could be familiar and comfortable, but they'd always be one miscommunication away from a tiff.
It was like switching cold for hard.
Maybe this was the universe's way of saying that neither one of those wizards was part of her future.
She wished her mum was around. Her mum always knew what to say to comfort her when the question regarded boys. If her mum were here now, she'd tell her to warm up a nice glass of milk and honey, tuck in and get a good night's sleep. Hermione smiled. Maybe that was exactly what she needed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. She and Severus were one step closer to getting out of this nightmare reality. Soon, things would be different.
