The pressure was mounting as NEWT exams loomed closer. Hermione's days had become a blur of classes, studying, and her secret quest for heirlooms.
The sun streamed through the high windows of the Charms classroom, making the dust in the air shimmer. Hermione sat next to Luna, who was obliviously focused on levitating her quill, her dreamy expression never wavering. Hermione took a moment to steady herself, her eyes briefly drifting to Luna's serene face. Did Luna have any idea of the weight Hermione carried, the secrets piling up one by one? Probably not. Luna, always so unburdened, looked at peace in a way Hermione longed to be. The class was practising their precision charm work, and Professor Flitwick moved among the rows, offering pointers and encouragement. Hermione had spent hours in the common room, practising a swapping charm—one that she had finally perfected just in time for today. She carefully glanced around; no one seemed to be paying her any attention. With a subtle flick of her wand, Luna's necklace and a similar trinket in Hermione's bag swapped places, the exchange seamless. Luna continued to hum softly, unaware of the change. Hermione kept her face neutral, her heart pounding with a mix of guilt and success. The weight of what she was doing felt crushing—stealing from a friend. Luna had always been so kind to her, and now here Hermione was, betraying her trust for the sake of some impossible plan. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought, but she pushed the feeling away. It had to be done. She could hear her own breathing, loud in her ears, as she forced herself to look at her own quill, lifting it effortlessly into the air. A few minutes later, Luna turned to her, beaming.
"Isn't magic wonderful?" Luna said, her eyes twinkling, completely unaware. Hermione swallowed hard and nodded, plastering on a smile. "Yes, Luna. It really is."
The dungeons were cooler than usual, the chill seeping through Hermione's robes as she settled into her seat. The sharp smell of brewing potions filled the room, a thick mix of herbs and acrid fumes. Professor Slughorn was lecturing about advanced binding agents, his voice carrying a jovial tone as he moved among the cauldrons. Hermione's eyes wandered to the pile of old books on Slughorn's desk. During a brief moment when Slughorn's attention was focused elsewhere, Hermione slipped forward, flipping through one of the volumes. Her eyes scanned the yellowed pages until she found it—a rare ingredient that she would need for the potion to bind the heirlooms' magic. Her heart sank as she read the description; cultivating it would take until the end of NEWTs to be ready. She closed the book quietly, her mind already calculating the timeline. She had to start that very night if she wanted any chance of completing the process in time. A loud bubbling noise brought her back to reality—Ginny's cauldron had started to overflow, a thick green foam spilling over the sides.
"Weasley! Watch your stir count!" Slughorn barked, moving quickly towards Ginny. Hermione took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. This was going to take everything she had.
Hermione sat beside Draco in Transfiguration, the classroom buzzing with focused energy as Professor McGonagall gave instructions for their latest assignment—animating inanimate objects. Hermione tried to concentrate, her quill poised above her parchment, but Draco leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear.
"Tonight, in the Room of Requirement," he whispered, his voice a low murmur meant only for her. "I've got something planned that you're going to love." His tone was almost a purr, full of promises that sent a shiver down her spine.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, the heat creeping up her neck as she tried to keep her eyes on her notes. Her hand faltered, her neat script turning into an indecipherable scrawl. She clenched her jaw, determined to focus on McGonagall's lecture, but Draco's hand brushed against her knee under the desk, his fingers just barely grazing her skin. She bit her lip, her eyes slipping closed for a moment as the sensation sent warmth flooding through her.
"Miss Granger, are you alright?" McGonagall's sharp voice cut through her distraction, and Hermione's eyes flew open. She cleared her throat, nodding quickly.
"Yes, Professor," she managed, her voice coming out slightly strangled. She felt Draco chuckle softly beside her, his hand retreating as he leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself.
Hermione forced herself to take a steadying breath, her face still hot, as she tried to refocus on the task at hand. The intensity of the moment lingered, making it nearly impossible to concentrate, but she knew she had to pull herself together. NEWTs were coming, and she couldn't afford distractions—no matter how enticing they were.
As the weeks passed, their lessons grew repetitive. Every morning, she awaited the post hoping to hear from Harry. His silence had been deafening. The Great Hall was alive with the clatter of plates and the buzz of early morning conversations. Hermione and Draco had taken to sitting at one end of the Slytherin table, away from the other students. The spot was quieter, offering a reprieve from prying eyes and unwanted commentary. Hermione picked at her breakfast, her eyes flickering around the hall. She knew she needed friends, as Snape had pointed out, but it was hard to know how to fix things. Every time she saw Ron's empty seat, the guilt tore at her, twisting her insides. She missed the easy camaraderie, the way they used to be. She could apologize over and over, but would it ever be enough to repair the broken trust? Would anyone even want her back if they knew the full extent of her lies? What could she do other than apologise a thousand times? And what if Draco decided it wasn't worth it anymore either? She thought about the potion she'd started brewing the night before, wondering if all these secrets, all this darkness, would eventually drive Draco away too.
She was lost in her thoughts when a barn owl swooped into the hall, landing directly in front of her. A small package and a letter tied to its leg. Hermione's breath caught as she recognized Harry's handwriting on the envelope. She quickly untied it, her fingers trembling slightly, and the owl flew off without ceremony.
"What's that?" Draco asked, his curiosity evident as he reached for a piece of toast. Hermione didn't answer right away, her eyes fixed on the familiar script.
"It's from Harry," she finally said, her voice quiet. She opened the letter, her heart pounding as she began to read.
Dear Hermione,
Sorry for the delay in writing back. I wanted to give Ron some time before I said anything. He's gone to help George at the joke shop but has moved into Grimmauld Place permanently. He's... hurt, Hermione. Lately, the losses have been hitting him harder. He's been more withdrawn, spending most of his time at the shop or locked away in the house. He's not sleeping well— he wakes up at all hours, sometimes after nightmares. It's like everything is catching up to him now, and losing you to Draco has made it even worse. He says he feels abandoned, like he was left behind while everyone else found a way to move forward, and it's left him feeling bitter and lost. He's trying, he really is, but every time he looks at you, it's like he's reminded of what he's lost. He's doing his best, but it's hard. Really hard.
I want you to know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what. As for your idea about the heirlooms, I think it's brilliant. The Ministry doesn't need to approve it, you know. The Headmaster can approve initiatives like this as long as there's funding. You should talk to him—I'll write to Severus too.
Hermione's heart stopped for a moment, panic flaring in her chest. She bit her lip, her mind racing. This was not part of the plan.
Anyway, I hope you're pleasantly surprised by what I've sent. Take care of yourself, alright?
Love, Harry
Hermione looked down at the small package, her fingers brushing against the brown paper wrapping. She was barely aware of Draco watching her, a curious expression on his face. Guilt gnawed at her as she caught the concerned look in Draco's eyes—he didn't know the half of what she was up to. She was supposed to be honest with him, yet every day the secrets between them seemed to grow, and every time she looked at him, she wondered if he would still want her when the truth came out. Without another word, she stood up abruptly, the bench scraping against the floor as she did. She clutched the package and the letter, her mind spinning.
"Hermione?" Draco called after her, confusion lacing his voice.
But she didn't respond. She needed to be alone, needed to think. More importantly, she needed to know if the package contained the heirlooms she so desperately needed. She walked away from the table, her footsteps echoing through the hall as she left Draco behind, her thoughts a chaotic mess of worry and guilt.
Hermione entered the Room of Requirement, and it was exactly as she needed it to be. A warm space with the cauldron she had running set up in the corner, shelves stacked with carefully collected ingredients, a bookshelf, a desk cluttered with notes, and a large armchair by the fire. The walls were still draped in silver and green, a hint of Slytherin influence that still pervaded her and Draco's space and had seeped into her own.
Hermione sat down on the armchair, her fingers carefully unwrapping the package Harry had sent. Inside, she found a Potter crested ring and a skull carved out of ivory, the words "toujours pur"—the Black family motto—etched into its surface. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the items. She had two more heirlooms now, two more families crossed off the list. Relief and excitement flooded her; she had made more progress than she dared hope. The swapping charm she had used on Neville's pocket watch had worked perfectly—six of the seven heirlooms she needed were now in her possession.
But the excitement quickly turned into unease. Harry's letter had mentioned writing to the headmaster, and Hermione felt her stomach twist with anxiety. She would have to speak to Severus before Harry's letter reached him. Somehow, she had to convince him to play along, to support her plan without giving away too much. It wasn't going to be easy, but she didn't have a choice.
Deciding she needed to act now, Hermione stood up, her resolve hardening. She had to find Snape before anything spiralled out of her control. She opened the door of the Room of Requirement, stepping out into the dimly lit corridor.
To her surprise, Draco was there, leaning against the wall opposite the door. His arms were crossed, and his expression was a mix of annoyance and concern. Hermione's heart sank, guilt making her stomach twist. She knew she was keeping too much from him, and she could see the doubt in his eyes. The worry. He deserved better, she thought, but she couldn't afford to be honest—not yet. Not when everything was so precariously balanced.
"Couldn't get in," he said, his eyes narrowing at her. "But I knew you were in there. What are you hiding, Hermione?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She tried to keep her expression calm as she shrugged. "I just needed some quiet study time, Draco. You know how it is with NEWTs coming up." She tried to walk past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly.
"You're lying," he said, his voice low. There was a hint of frustration, maybe even hurt, in his eyes. "What are you really up to? You've been distant, secretive. I want to help you, but I can't if you keep shutting me out."
Panic surged through Hermione. She leaned in, trying to kiss him, hoping to distract him as she had before. She knew it was a cowardly move, but it was all she could think of in that moment—an escape. She could feel the desperation in her own actions, hoping that his love for her would make him forget his questions, at least for now. But Draco turned his head, his grip on her wrist tightening just slightly.
"No," he said, his voice soft but resolute. "Not this time, Hermione. You can't just screw me to avoid answering. I want real answers."
Hermione pulled her hand free, anger and fear bubbling inside her. She spun on her heel, storming off down the corridor. She could hear Draco calling after her, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
"What are you doing, Hermione? Why won't you trust me?"
She ignored him, her footsteps quickening as she headed towards Snape's office. She needed to get there before Draco caught up. As she reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance, she could feel Draco's presence behind her, his footsteps slowing as he watched her. The gargoyle turned, revealing the stairs and Hermione stepped forward, her heart pounding, knowing that Draco was watching her every move.
As she reached the door, she heard voices from within. She hesitated, but there was no turning back now. Gathering her courage, she pushed the door open.
Inside, Severus Snape was seated behind his desk, while Professor Flitwick stood opposite, both mid-conversation. At her unexpected arrival, Snape's eyes flickered briefly with surprise, then narrowed. He looked as though he had been caught off guard, a rare occurrence for the usually composed man. Hermione noticed the way his dark eyes assessed her immediately, like he was searching for the reason behind her intrusion before she even had a chance to speak. His posture was rigid, but there was a moment—a fleeting, almost imperceptible moment—where she thought she saw something softer in his expression, perhaps concern, though it was quickly masked behind his usual scowl.
"Ah, Filius, I am terribly sorry," Snape said smoothly, his gaze never leaving Hermione. "I had completely forgotten about my previously arranged meeting with Miss Granger regarding her employment opportunities next year. My apologies, but this matter is quite pressing. I'm sure she'll be shortly receiving offers for every position imaginable."
Flitwick, ever understanding, nodded politely, his eyes twinkling at Hermione. "Of course, Severus. Miss Granger, always a pleasure. Do consider joining us here at Hogwarts, your skills would be an asset." With a kind smile, he turned and left, the door closing softly behind him.
The office seemed to darken the moment Flitwick was gone. Snape's expression hardened, and his voice turned ice-cold as he addressed Hermione.
"Do you make it a habit to barge into my office unannounced, Miss Granger?" he hissed, his dark eyes boring into her. Hermione stood there, her body rigid, her throat too tight to form words. She could feel her hands trembling slightly, and she clasped them in front of her to hide it. Snape rose slowly, his gaze not wavering for a moment, and walked around the desk, his robes rustling in the silence.
"Well?" he snapped, standing just a few feet away from her now. Hermione swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the floor. She couldn't speak, couldn't bring herself to explain the chaos she had caused.
Seconds felt like hours as the silence stretched between them, Snape's frustration growing with each passing moment. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his tone shifting from anger to something more controlled. "What is it, Hermione?"
Hermione took a shaky breath, finally daring to meet his eyes. "I—I got a letter from Harry," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's about the plan... for the change I need to make, I need to have seven heirlooms. I used a cover story to get one from Harry—he ended up giving me two. But now... now he's writing to you, and Draco knows something is wrong, and—" Her voice broke, her control unravelling in an instant. "And I just don't know what to do!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Snape's expression remained unreadable as he watched her break down, her shoulders shaking with the effort of holding in her sobs. For a moment, he remained motionless, his gaze fixed on her tear-streaked face.
He sighed, a low sound that seemed to carry all the weight of his weariness. He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and much to Hermione's surprise, placed a hand on her shoulder—not harshly, but with a measured firmness. His touch lingered and he stepped a fraction closer, she wondered for a moment if the Professor was about to embrace her and wondered if she had simply become hysterical. "Compose yourself, Hermione," he said, his voice softened just slightly, the formality slipping for a heartbeat. "Tears will not solve this predicament."
Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly with the back of her hand. Snape's grip shifted, and he moved back to lean against his desk, his expression still stern but not as severe.
"You should have come to me instantly," he continued. "This mess with Potter and Malfoy will complicate things, but it is not insurmountable." He paused, eyeing her carefully. "What exactly do you need me to lie to Potter about, Hermione? I would prefer to prevent you barging into my office in tears again before your NEWTs are finished."
Hermione nodded, swallowing back another sob. She looked at Snape, gratitude mixed with trepidation in her eyes. "Thank you, Severus. I... I didn't know where else to turn." It felt strange to use his given name, but their developing alliance called for a level of intimacy she wasn't accustomed to.
Snape rolled his eyes slightly, though the edge of his mouth twitched in what might have almost been a smile. "Yes, well, you have turned to me. So now we must both deal with the consequences. Sit. We have much to discuss."
Hermione sank into the chair across from his desk, her heart still pounding. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts.
"I've been gathering the pureblood heirlooms I need," she said, her voice steadying slightly. "I asked Harry for some, and he gave me two. Treasures, both from the Potter and Black families. I told him it was for a project... an idea I had about creating new heirlooms for Muggle-borns, something they could pass down, like 'family founders' of their own." She paused, glancing up at Snape's reaction. His lips twitched, and there was an unmistakable glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"New heirlooms for Muggle-borns?" he repeated, his tone laced with a hint of derision, though his curiosity was evident. "And Potter, being the sentimental fool that he is, fell for this charming story, I presume?"
Hermione nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "He did. He loved the idea, actually. He thinks it's about giving people a sense of history, a sense of belonging."
Snape's eyes narrowed, but the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips. "How touching," he said dryly. "And now Potter is writing to me, expecting me to corroborate this little tale of yours."
Hermione nodded again, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. "Yes, and Draco knows something is wrong too. I just... I panicked."
Snape studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "Very well, Hermione. I will play along, if only to prevent further theatrics in my office," he said, his tone shifting slightly, a hint of something gentler slipping through the sarcasm. "But be warned, this will not be easy to maintain. You will need to tread carefully." He paused, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze softened as it met hers. "And next time, come to me before you're on the verge of tears. We're in this together now, aren't we?"
Hermione exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you, Severus" It felt strange to use his given name still, yet natural on her tongue. She could see the corner of his mouth twitch slightly if she did, wondering if it was as foreign to him to hear it.
Snape gave a dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yes, yes. Now, focus, Hermione. You have, however, added yet another layer to this already convoluted web of lies by disturbing my meeting with Professor Flitwick. It will not go unnoticed. Nevertheless, your timing may have been fortuitous." He paused, studying her reaction. "As it happens, I had been considering an offer. Slughorn is, frankly, a waste of space, and I would genuinely like to offer you the opportunity to train alongside him to eventually take over his position."
Hermione blinked, stunned. "Take over... Potions?"
Snape nodded, his expression giving nothing away. "Indeed. I would be teaching you personally, but Slughorn would share the teaching load until you were fully ready. This would, of course, involve us spending a great deal of time together. It is not a decision to be made lightly, and needless to say, you would require exceptionally high NEWT scores for any such arrangement."
Hermione hesitated, and then asked, "But why me, Severus? Why do you think I'm capable of taking over Potions?"
Snape arched an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening. "Why you, Hermione? Surely you know why. You brewed Polyjuice Potion in your second year—successfully, and might I add, without proper supervision, despite pilfering ingredients from my stores," he added, his voice dripping with disdain, though there was a faint glimmer of something softer beneath it. He crossed his arms, his tone slightly exasperated. "You are one of the most competent students I have ever taught. The fact that you even question your capability is, frankly, irritating."
"I... I'm sorry for stealing from your stores, Severus," she muttered, looking down.
Snape ignored the apology, though his eyes softened slightly. "Furthermore, I am aware that you have recently received some rather rare and dangerous potions ingredients by owl. Ingredients that indicate you are attempting something far more complex than anything Horace could produce. You are ambitious, and you have the talent. It would be a waste for you not to continue honing those skills."
Hermione looked up, her eyes wide. "You... you noticed?"
Hermione's mind reeled at his words. Severus thought she was the best? He had never said anything remotely close to this before. It left her both stunned and confused. She had always assumed that he only tolerated her, that his willingness to help was more about necessity than any genuine belief in her abilities. And now he was saying this, praising her in his own begrudging way. On top of that, he had noticed her mail and deliveries—he was watching her more closely than she had imagined. A mix of emotions swirled within her, from pride to fear, all jumbled together. How much else did he notice? Hermione flinched at the implications, her face flushing.
"Of course I noticed," Snape said, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "I make it my business to notice such things, Hermione." His tone softened for just a heartbeat before reverting to sarcasm. "You really should not be so surprised."
Hermione's chest tightened, the vulnerability she felt in that moment leaving her at a loss for words. Was he upset that she didn't recognize his focus on her? She realized that maybe, just maybe, he expected her to understand just how much attention he paid to her work. It was almost as if he was disappointed that she doubted her own worth in his eyes. The realization shook her. She had never imagined Severus Snape capable of anything beyond cold observation, yet here he was, hinting at something closer, something bordering on belief in her abilities.
"Now, as I was saying, this opportunity is not without its consequences. You may wish to consider how it will affect your personal relationships. Mr. Malfoy, for instance. I doubt his mother, Narcissa, would be pleased. She has invested quite a lot into her notion of Draco marrying the Gryffindor princess. That princess spending an inordinate amount of time with myself might cause her to reconsider."
Hermione swallowed hard, her eyes locked on his. There was a moment of silence before she spoke. "And you, Severus? Are you comfortable spending so much time with me?"
Snape's gaze flickered, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Comfortable is a strong word, Hermione," he said, his voice dripping with its usual sarcasm. "But I suppose... I find you tolerable. On most occasions." He looked at her more seriously then, his expression softening for a brief instant. "You must understand, the path you are considering is not easy, nor is it without risk. There will be scrutiny—public and personal. This role would only heighten that. It is essential that you are certain of your choices."
Hermione nodded slowly, her mind buzzing with the implications of his words. "I understand, Severus. I'll think about it." His belief in her left her both emboldened and terrified. It was a chance she had dreamed of, yet it came with so many unknowns, so many risks. And for the first time, she wondered if she could truly handle what was coming.
Snape nodded curtly. "Do so." He allowed his gaze to linger on her, just a hint of something more in his eyes, before he gestured to the door, "I trust you don't actually wish for me to sort out your mess with Mr Malfoy?"
Hermione took the hint, pausing at the bottom of the stairs before she had to step out and confront Draco. What was she going to say?