Hermione wished that she shared sleeping quarters with her current classmates rather than her age cohort. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown acknowledged her existence only to bombard her with questions she couldn't answer. Once she failed to give them the answers they wanted, they proceeded to theorise about her without her input.

Neither girl bothered to draw the curtains around their beds. Both slept peacefully, as if nothing could send the world crashing down around them. Hermione looked at them both with a pang of jealousy. They never had to walk around with their heads down, lest their existence anger the wrong person. They never had to deal with the desire to break every mirror because they couldn't bear their own appearance. Never had to bend over backwards and still fail to please the other kids. They never would know what it was like to so thoroughly hate themselves inside and out, nor would they lay awake all night wondering why their mothers left them.

Hermione's gaze lingered on Lavender. The girl was perfect. She was short enough to be a head shorter than most boys, but not so short people thought she was twelve. Soft golden ringlets fell around her porcelain face, and soft pink touched her cheeks. She even had an emerging hour-glass figure. Everything about her was soft and sweet. Hermione now more than ever ached to be that sweet, delicate image.

If I could mould my mind to be normal too, that'd be great.

Hermione unclasped her hands, and noted that she broke the skin in record time. The year hadn't even begun. And why was she so jealous of Lavender again? Hiro planned on marrying Hermione. And with Persephone Granger's unfortunate appearance resembling her own, her mother didn't simply leave her because she was an ugly baby.

Hermione filled a bowl with kibble for Crookshanks, the giant ginger cat leapt down and began purring as he bobbed his head and chewed. Hermione ran her hand over his head and back, before stooping to kiss his forehead. "You be good."

He continued eating and Hermione left him, content with his bottle-brush tail forming a giant, happy question mark in the air.

Hermione inhaled deeply and counted to three before leaving Gryffindor tower, and she hoped Luna didn't have questions.

The first rays of dawn streamed through the large arched library windows. Hermione inhaled the scent of old paper, wood and parchment. Madam Pince, the librarian, nursed a mug of coffee at her desk (far from any books, of course!) and peered over her spectacles at Hermione.

"Early as always," Pince sighed. "Archives?"

"Am I honestly so predictable?" Hermione forced a laugh.

"Only since you were six or seven," Pince shrugged. "You know the rules."

"One scrap of paper out of place and you'll crucify me," Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled. "I'll be delicate with my 'sticky fingers'.Oh! Has Luna Lovegood been down here yet?"

Pince jingled the keys on her large brass ring. "I just opened the doors a couple seconds before you came in. If I see a girl dance in here barefoot with vegetables hanging from her earlobes, I'll send her your way."

Hermione opened her mouth to defend her when the doors swung open, and as Pince predicted Luna Lovegood came dancing in, barefoot with her radish earrings, which Hermione could now see were literally preserved smirked at Hermione, to which Luna was blissfully oblivious.

"Hi, Hermione!" Luna beamed.

"Hey, Luna," Hermione smiled, taking her arm. "I have some research to do in the archives. Shall we?"

Luna placed her free hand over Hermione's and her silvery eyes sparkled down at her. "You know I'd follow you anywhere."

Heat flushed Hermione's face and she quickly averted her gaze. "L-Luna!"

"Shh!" Pince reminded Hermione. "And you're not following Miss Snape anywhere in my library without shoes, Miss Lovegood."

"Of course, Madam Pince," she nodded and kicked her shoes over her bare feet.

"You'll get blisters," Hermione whispered.

"What?" she shrugged. "I'll put my socks on before classes start." she then pointed forward with a wide grin on her face. "To the archives!"

"Shh!" Pince hissed.

"Oh, sorry," Luna said, then whispered with equal enthusiasm. "To the archives!"

. "Did you sleep at all last night?" Remus asked around the foam on his pink toothbrush.

Severus sipped another cup of coffee. He usually had one in their living quarters before heading to the Great Hall, but he'd been out of bed since four, not wanting to wake Remus before his first day as a counsellor. Remus might have been a light sleeper, but Severus was quiet.

"You caught me," Severus smirked. "I was up all night trying to devise new and creative ways to drum up some business for you. I should be able to have twenty students up to your office before tea."

Remus spat in the sink and leaned in the doorway with a sigh. "Severus…"

"Oh, very well then," he set his coffee down. "It's your first day, I'll only do ten."

"I don't want my boyfriend to be the reason students are coming to see me, Severus," Remus narrowed his eyes. Before this, they were simply joking, but it seemed the man was serious here.

"The only thing I want to make those little idiots do is behave," he groaned. "Some attention to the lesson might be good for both parties too."

Remus finished gargling and fastened his outer robe over his patch-work inner one. "Perhaps try using a carrot instead of the stick?"

Severus examined his partner, still too pale, too thin, and swimming in his oversized, patch-work robes. Remus was a kind and sweet man, those qualities made it very likely that he would take on too much of a load. The students would be so happy to have an adult to whinge too, and Remus would surely try to fix it all, despite the limitations his body faced. The least Severus could do was to watch his temper in class to keep Remus from overworking himself.

Honestly? You can't even keep your temper around your own daughter. Do you think you'll ever be able to with the rest of the students?

Severus ignored the voice, but knew, deep-down, it was right. Despite that empty platitude he gave Molly Weasley after the attack at the World Cup, he knew the way he lost his temper with Hermione was different than normal parents, and that poor, sweet little girl bore the scars. Persephone Granger didn't divide her meal into threes at the sorting feast, and she smiled a hell of a lot more than Hermione did on her sorting.

Stupid little girl...What's wrong with you?..Little idiot...I'll give you something to cry about...Insufferable know-it-all...Why do I keep saying these things?

"Severus?" Remus wrapped his arms around him. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he mused. "I'm simply wondering how long before those idiots eat you alive."

Remus rolled his eyes and sighed with a shrug. "I'll see you at lunch if I survive. Are you coming up to breakfast?"

Severus shook his head. "It seems every school year must start with an appeal to Hermione's common sense. Thirteen years and I still have no clue how to get her to listen."

Remus cocked his head to the side. "She's fourteen, Severus."

I've only had her for thirteen of those… "Infants don't tend to be very defiant. I should be off as well. Girl's probably buried in archival papers."

Remus took Severus's hand in his and gave him a sympathetic smile. "Do you know what you're going to say to her?"

Severus rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back. "I'm just hoping that she has more sense than her godfather and our co-workers. A few shared features are hardly a case for blood relations." He then smirked with a shrug. "And if she doesn't bring it up, I shall just have to find something to pass the few precious moments before I'm relinquished to the role of just another teacher. Oh, the humanity."

"You know she doesn't think that," Remus chuckled and shrugged. "I should get going. I'll see you at lunch."

"Wait," Severus took Remus's hand once more and gently pulled him into him, lowering his face.

Remus acquiesced, rising to meet him and leaning into the kiss. Both knew they couldn't traipse about like school boys outside their living quarters, and this was likely the last chance they would have before classes were dismissed.

"Good luck today," Severus straightened his partner's robes.

"You too," Remus placed a quicker,chaste kiss on his lips. "Love you."

"Don't let them walk all over you," Severus said.

Luna watched Hermione pour over the more archival records. Hermione bit her lip as she scrawled in a hand sized journal, and Luna admired the way the sunlight from the small basement window shone through her medium brown curls and bounced off her olive skin. How many times had Luna pointed out her beauty only to be accused of teasing her?

She's marrying Hiro, Luna reminded herself, torn between hurt and gratitude that they were still as close as they were. Luna knew she didn't really have friends, and Hermione did seem to love Luna, even if it wasn't the way she wanted her to.

"I'm sorry," Hermione pushed her work aside and looked up at Luna. "I invited you to meet with me and I've just been—I'm afraid I'm not too much fun!"

Luna smiled and sat up on the table. "It's actually quite fascinating to watch you work. You read everything three times, and it's cute the way you bite your lip when you're deep in thought."

Hermione's doll-like brown eyes grew even wider as her cheeks flushed pink and gave a familiar squeak. "L-Luna!"

"What?" Luna asked. "It's not fair that the only people who seem to know you're adorable live in Japan."

"Honestly," Hermione rolled her eyes after a moment of silence. "I know how lucky I am that Hiro likes me, you don't need to tease me."

"Didn't Saiyaka have a crush on you too?" Luna recalled the letters from two years ago professing her confusion.

Hermione averted her gaze and clasped her hands before her. "Poor Saiya-chan, I don't even know how she came to like me—" Hermione shook her head and smiled. "I'm sorry, you don't need to hear me complain about—" she gestured up and down her body. "All of me. Again."

"I'm happy to listen until you learn there's nothing to complain about," Luna beamed, taking out her wand from behind her ear and making a moonflower bud blossom with the spell Deirdre taught her.

Hermione smiled down at the open bloom and gently cupped her hands around Luna's. "That's a really delicate spell. Did Deirdre teach you that?"

Luna nodded with a smile. "And I think I found someone else to join our little club of misfits, I bet Padma'll join up too."

"Club of misfits," Hermione rolled her eyes, but giggled. "Do I honestly need to remind our editor that we're a paper? And Padma's not even a reporter with us!"

Luna giggled herself and shrugged. "Alright, and what's my top reporter working on?"

"L-Luna!" Hermione's face flushed pink again and she turned back to her work. "I'm hardly better than the others. O'Malley and Deirdre write more regularly. And so do you, actually. Any more leads on the nargles?"

Luna knew Hermione was humouring her, but it was far kinder than the way others openly mocked her. She wondered if she would ever convince Hermione of nargle existence, but figured if she were blind to her own beauty, she was never going to catch on to such elusive creatures. She wondered, and not for the first time, if Hiro Yamato had to convince her daily that he wasn't settling for Hermione. Or worse, maybe he let her think that? No, Hermione may have hated herself and believed herself ugly, but Luna thought she was far too smart to fall for someone who didn't appreciate her.

"Oh, I'll have to hope more things go missing and give me a lead," Luna shrugged. "So, what about you?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder to ensure they were alone and grinned. "You have to swear to complete secrecy."

Luna grinned back and crossed her heart before offering her pinky. "Under pain of death."

"This is a pinky promise!" Both girls chanted.

Luna leaned close and admired how Hermione's eyes sparkled with excitement. She loved that she now pinned her fringe out of them, allowing Luna to read her full expression for the first time in the years they'd been friends. The grin exposed overlong front teeth, but it touched her whole face, pink flushed under her spattering of freckles and there was a light that only a good mystery could give her and she waved her wand, summoning a cork board and presenting it to her.

"I built a murder board!" she whispered dramatically."I'm trying to tack down a connection between the Dark Lord and horcruxes. I'm not sure, but I think if I can figure out who his mother was, I might be able to figure out what, and maybe even where he attached the fragments of his soul. At least, I think so."

Luna followed the red yarn from note to note with dates, connections and was surprisingly thorough. And Luna's eyes landed on a particular note, Harry visions of disembodied floating through manor.

"Harry's been having visions?" Luna asked, touching the note.

"Shit!" Hermione squeaked, placing it in her bag. "I-I-I'm sorry,Luna, I wasn't really supposed to tell you that. I-I'm sorry."

Luna giggled and touched her cheek. "You already said that, silly. And I'm pretty sure I can keep a secret."

A furious blush rose from Hermione's cheeks and she turned away. "I know that, Luna, I just don't want to betray his trust. Honestly, even if I am right, this isn't really something I should be proud of. It-it was stupid."

"No, it isn't," Luna shrugged.

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave a weak smile. "How are you so damn certain of everything?"

Luna thought for a moment, but shrugged again. "I just am."

"I think that's another thing I'm jealous of," Hermione sighed.

"Jealous?" Luna giggled again. "That's silly. What's there to be jealous of?"

Hermione clasped her hands before her and stared at her swinging feet. "You're always so confident. No matter what people say or do, you know what you want and stick to it. And you're also—erm—you're also very pretty."

Luna swallowed and felt heat rise in her cheeks."I am?"

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. "Of course you are, pale skin, long, wheat-coloured, straight hair, and those wide silver eyes. Honestly, I'm surprised more girls aren't jealous of you."

Luna examined her dirty blonde hair and saw the wheaty quality to it. Her skin was like milk, and while that meant she burnt easily in the sunshine, it was nice. Luna never thought she was ugly, but never considered herself pretty either, but she could see what Hermione saw for a moment and her heart fluttered. More importantly, Hermione thought she was pretty! Very!

"Thank you," Luna beamed. "But you shouldn't be jealous of me."

"And why's that?" Hermione turned her attention back to her work.

Luna's heart thudded harder and felt herself carried on a strange impulse as she turned Hermione's head by the chin to face her. "Because, bitch, you're gorgeous!"

Hermione's eyes grew twice their size and a furious pink blush formed underneath her freckles and she squeaked, throwing her hands over her face."L-Luna!"

It wasn't often Luna felt regret, but she definitely did there. She certainly came on strong, and sometimes wondered if she were too much, and Hermione's face hidden behind her scarred hands definitely lent that theory some credence.

"Sorry," Luna looked away.

"I don't know why you insist on teasing me like that," Hermione muttered, face still in her hands.

"Because I'm not," Luna insisted, moving Hermione's hands. "And you should be careful about calling yourself ugly in front of Persephone Granger. She might take it personally."

"L-Luna!" Hermione choked. "I–erm—I—So, I guess you saw that too?"

Luna shrugged. "I think everyone did. It's hard not to. If she were three years older, you could be twins, fraternal at least. Which reminds me! Did you know that Padma and Pavarti are fraternal twins? I thought they were identical, Padma went spare when I'd said it, though."

"Oh," Hermione stared at her feet. "I-I-erm-I kind of did too. Thanks for letting me kn—wait! So, it's not just me and the boys? I thought—that she might have—that is—that—erm—the woman who g-gave birth to me—-and I—"

"That you have the same mother?" Luna asked. "I'm sure you do."

Hermione pulled her hands from Luna's to clasp them before her and dig her nails into her flesh. "Persephone did mention her mother—if she wasn't adopted then that means that she—" Hermione squeezed harder and swallowed. "It's fine. I-it doesn't matter."

Luna swallowed this time. Hermione's eyes welled up, and her clasped hands shook, despite her stiff posture. Luna missed her mother, but at least she knew her. Luna knew her mother wanted her, eight years of memories told her that. But Hermione, her mother's absence left her wounded, Luna saw that, even with her insistence she wasn't.

"Hermione," Luna cupped her hands around Hermione's and leaned her forehead against hers. "It's okay if you're—y'know—not okay."

Hermione pulled her hands back and folded her arms over her chest, she then forced a smile. "Luna, I'm fine. It's your first year with electives, why don't I give you the scoop on Trelawney, Tran and Hagrid."

Luna let her hands drop and listened as Hermione went on. Did Hermione know she was using the tactic Snape did? The one she'd hated so much.

"You girls know we are in a library, yes?" Hermione's father rested a hand on her head.

Luna had Hermione in stitches describing a particularly doomed fishing trip with her father on the stream nearby their home. A pleasant distraction from the storm in Hermione's head, but it surfaced with her father's gentle hand on her head.

"Sorry, sir," Hermione said.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," Luna said brightly, not missing a beat.

Her father sighed and spoke stiffly. "Yes, good morning, Miss Lovegood. Hermione, I would like to speak with you."

Hermione noticed that his black eyes didn't quite meet hers, something troubled him. She wondered, then dismissed it, then wondered again: Is it about Persephone Granger? About my–our—mother?

Hermione clasped her hands before her and dug her nails in deep, staring at her father, almost afraid to breathe. Was he finally going to break his years of silence and lies? Was Hermione going to get the answers she needed for years?

"Alone." He cast a cold glance to Luna.

Luna gathered her things and kicked on her shoes. "I'll meet you in the corridor, kitty."

Hermione nodded and watched Luna skip away before turning her attention to her father, who carried himself stiffly, even as he sat next to Hermione in Luna's recently vacated chair.

Hermione's heart picked up the pace as she tried to quiet her mind, a thousand scenarios flashed before her mind's eye and her stomach somersaulted within her. Did Hermione's mum leave her with her father because she couldn't take it? Were Hermione's childhood illnesses too much for her? Did she come out wrong, someone too hard for her to love? Were her father's mood swings too much to take? Did she assume (correctly, she worried) that Hermione shared the volatile temperament?

Her father's eyes were somehow vacant and turbulent like black holes turning all those plausible theories into nothing, while some awful truth lurked behind them. He leaned in before his eyes drifted to the work sprawled before her.

"What are you doing with student files from the thirties?" he asked, despite the suspicion in his tone, there also seemed to be relief.

Hermione started placing the papers back in their prospective manilla folders sighing. "Well," she ventured to something that was technically true. "Peter Pettigrew's history didn't seem to suggest his motives either way. But I was hoping to find some clue in his mother's records. Councillor Amir calls it the 'mother wound' but his mother was remarkably unremarkable, so now I'm looking for a grandmother wound."

Her father's hand found its way to the top of her head once more, gently running it over her head. The gesture was warm, but his pale, thin face conveyed a familiar sad, pity. She could almost hear his thoughts. His poor baby girl and her obsession with mothers. Where did he go wrong?

"They might be called 'mother wounds', but fathers are more than capable of causing them," he sighed, and the tone made Hermione unsure if he was speaking to her or himself before he resumed patting her head.

Silence passed between them, and Hermione swore she saw the rigid posture return, as if he was regaining his own resolve. "Something's bothering you."

Is it that obvious? Hermione knew what she wanted to ask him, but she once again felt misplaced in Gryffindor as she turned to sort the files into three even stacks. He was kind and attentive now. That changed any time Hermione asked about her mother. If Persephone shared a mother with Hermione, would he even know? And how quickly would the suggestion turn this warmth to rage? Or cold indifference?

"Just wondering what I'm supposed to do next year if I'm not allowed to write the NEWTs." Coward!

He looked skeptical for a bit, knit his brows and opened his mouth to speak. Something made him change his mind and he shook his head, abandoning the rigid posture. "Is that all, love? Why don't we get through this year before worrying about the next, yes?"

Hermione nodded and clasped her hands before her. "You wanted to speak with me? Is it about Professor Moody?"

This surprised him, he lifted his hand from her head and his black eyes widened before narrowing in rage. "Did that man say something to you, Hermione? I swear if he's—-"

"Dad," Hermione forced a smile and set a hand on his arm. "He never got the chance to say anything, much less something to upset me. It's just—well—erm—talking about the new professor before the year is sort of tradition now, isn't it?"

The tension in her father's jaw and shoulders released, he sighed, returning his hand to her head. "Indeed, I suppose it has. Now I don't expect Alastor Moody, of all people, to be a secret Death Eater, dangerously incompetent nor a mon—plagued with lycanthropy, but I worked under him during my shadowing in school. The man's got some opinions of me that may poorly flavour his approach to you. Should he treat you unfairly, let me know and I shall have a conversation with him."

That's rich coming from you, Dad, "Of course, Dad," she bowed her head. "Thank you."

He smiled gently and adjusted the hair pin that kept her hair out of her eyes. "I'm glad you're doing this now, I have no clue how you saw anything through your fringe for the past thirteen years."

"Fourteen, Dad," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I must have very good eyes."

"I'd say," he chuckled. "I imagine it must be all the exercise you get from rolling them. Now go catch up with Miss Lovegood before she's caught by some flight of fancy and forgets her commitment."

"Of course, sir," she waved her wand, returning each file to its correct storage. "Oh, and, Dad?"

"Yes, love?"

"Try not to send too many students crying to Remus's office, yeah?"

Her father rolled his eyes but smiled as he ushered her forward. "Oh, off with you, foolish little girl."

Hermione obeyed with a smile but wondered if she had blown her only chance to ask. Coward! Stupid little girl!