On the back of the paper with the traintimes was a mobile number. Having learned to use her new mobile Hermione sat down with trembling hands, punching in the numbers. After four rings a voice answered.

"Stephen speaking, who is this?"

"Ah, you do not know my name yet, we met on the Sheffield – Doncaster train."

"Hello! The lovely young lady looking for the Gainsborough connection."

Thankfully Snape caught on. Hermione thought herself to be paranoid, but for nothing in the world would she want to jeopardize her first progress in connecting with people from her past. She forced a giggle.

"Flatterer! More tired than lovely."

"Ah, the perils of an early commute. I am off-duty on Saturday. Shall we meet for a cup of tea?"

"I would like that, yes. Where to? I do not know the area well."

"It's the Grimthorpe Chase this Saturday, on Doncaster Racecourse. There's a big red bus serving tea next to the bookies' stands. If you not against racing in principal."

"I have never been to the races, it sounds like fun."

"It usually is, but bring an umbrella just in case. 10.30?"

"Yes, that's fine. I am looking forward to Saturday."

"Wait! You haven't told me your name."

"It's Janice. Good bye, Stephen!"

"Bye, Janice!"

Hermione's heart was racing still after five minutes. On Saturday she would see Severus Snape! The very man who had put himself between three reckless children and a transformed werewolf without hesitation. Who had saved Harry from a gruesome death in his first year during that Quidditch match, who had brewed the potions to reverse her own petrification and those to treat her horrific wound after the debacle in the Department of Mysteries. Who had worked tirelessly as a double spy, being treated with condescension and suspicion by most of the Order members, who had had a terrible year as the most hated headmaster of Hogwarts after he had killed Albus Dumbledore. At the man's own orders, although no one beside Harry, Hermione and Ron did know about that. Hermione felt safer than a long time just talking to the man.

Shortly after Harry had emerged from the Pensieve and had told his best friends everything had gone wrong. Lavender had been killed by Greyback, Bellatrix had first struck down Ginny Weasley and then Molly as well. His anger in witnessing his family killed had made Ron reckless. Hermione had seen him fall. The spell's ligth had not been green but more she could not say about her friend's fate. It still was bound to be better than Harry's: Voldemort's Avada had indeed cut lose the Horcrux in Harry. The soul part returned to its master and together they took over the boy's body. The merging had been a sight that had turned even some Death Eaters's stomachs but in end a youngish man with black hair, a combination of young Tom Riddle's and Harry Potter's features and Avada green eyes stood there, radiating power no one around had ever felt. Quite a few of the people helping the Order, even Order members, too, prostrated themselves at the renewed Voldemort's feet, others fled.

Hermione realised that everything was lost. She bound her distinctive hair with a scarf Transfigured from a pebble, unshrunk her broom and flew towards South. After an hour she touched down, hoped that there were no nationwide Apparition wards up yet and made her way to London St. Pancras. In a locker there was a stash of money, a false passport and an open ticket to Australia.

Now she had been back in England close to a year, without any success. The few people she had met and thought to have magic she had not dared to approach, even though she had changed her appearance as much as possible – a short bob haircut, conservative clothes that made her appear older than her 24 years and glasses. Today was the first day in the last few years that she felt something akin to hope.