Hermione was in her office, perusing a list of books that she was hoping to procure for the library over Christmas holidays. The fact that it would mean a trip to Brazil when it was cold here and not there was a selling point. She thought a few days in Brazil would agree with Severus very much. Albus, fortunately, was quite generous with her budget. He knew as much as she loved books herself, she wasn't frivolous with the school's money. If she truly thought a text belonged here, then it did. Given her experience and the fact she kept up to date on changes, she knew best and he recognized that. An added bonus, Severus was always willing to go with her to get the book or books, usually resulting in a long weekend together here and there over the years. She knew he wanted to travel more than they did, but she wasn't ready to retire quite yet. So it worked well for everyone.

She was working on a list of titles she would be willing to part with if necessary when she heard the distinct sound of sniffles. This late in life, between her role as librarian and mum, she knew the sound well. It was late, not past curfew late, but she hadn't realized anyone was still in the library. She tidied up her desk and stood then, making her way into the main part of the library. She sighed softly when she saw the source of the sniffles. Honestly, she was surprised it had taken this long. Not to say the witch hadn't cried plenty between the beginning of the school year and tonight. She just hadn't done it in the library where Hermione could hear her.

No Voldemort meant Lily and James Potter lived, so Harry had been raised magically (and had two younger sisters!) instead of cruelly by Petunia and Vernon Dursley. No Voldemort meant no Quirrell, which meant no troll. This meant that Hermione Granger was rather alone at this moment in time, longer than she had been originally. Unable to fit in here at Hogwarts any better than she had been able to at her muggle schools.

Seventy years since she herself experienced this first year of Hogwarts, but she still remembered the feelings she'd been unable to escape before that troll. Looking back, she never imagined her life being what it was currently. She still didn't fit in very well, but those she did extend herself to hadn't let her down yet.

Her heart broke for her younger self. Even at eighty-two years old she was still not good at making friends or being social. The ridicule that she'd been on the receiving end until she was twelve wasn't easily forgotten.

Hermione called for a house elf and asked for a tea service to be brought with some chocolate as well as some of her cookies. (The elves knew where they were. Sometimes, if she saw one of her grandchildren have a bad day, she'd ask an elf to bring them a couple.) She ensured the doors were locked and the wards set before carrying the tray with tea and goodies out to her younger self once it had been brought to her.

Her younger self gasped when the tea tray was set down at a table next to hers. She could practically feel her heart breaking in two at the sight of the red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. What had happened tonight to send her here in a crying fit?

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Madam Prins." This was said in between sobs, so took far longer to say than it ordinarily should have. She'd laugh if she didn't know that what send her younger self out the door.

"It's all right, Miss Granger. You know by now you are always welcome here. What's troubling you this evening?"

She shrugged, wiping her eyes on her sweater's sleeve. Hermione charmed a napkin on the tea service into a kerchief, offering it to the girl.

"We're alone and no one's going to bother us. You may speak freely. I'm not going to betray your confidence."

"I just don't understand why I can't fit in. I try! I just get ridiculed and laughed at."

Hermione's lips thinned, and she took a breath. She remembered this feeling. Granted, it had been a long time ago now, but she did remember it. It truly was a horrible feeling. To think she had this whole world that was new to her, somewhere she assumed she'd finally belong.

She was a witch! She'd felt so special to finally understand why she might be different from everyone else she'd gone to school with so far.

And then she'd gotten here.

And she didn't fit in any better here than she had there.

"May I make a suggestion, as a friend," she said softly.

She settled her hand over the younger witch's in a comforting touch. She'd done the same to countless children by now over the years. It was a little different, knowing that this was in essence her own hand she was touching. "And I do consider you a friend, if that doesn't seem odd to you."

"Sure," she said. "And, no I don't find that odd. I've never met anyone before who understands my questions without my having to explain."

There was a reason for that, of course. Hermione knew very well how this witch's mind worked. It was her own mind, after all. Up until this year, as far as she could tell, their childhoods had essentially been the same. Perhaps from now on their thought processes would be slightly different, but she didn't see there being a drastic change. Hermione prepared a cup of tea and, since she knew this witch so well, set it in front of her before preparing one for herself. "Help yourself to cookies or chocolate."

"Thank you," she said. She sounded a little … stronger now. The tears were still flowing, but not as fast and she wasn't shaking from them any longer.

"Now as to my suggestion," she said after they'd both taken a few sips of their tea and her younger self had indulged in a piece of chocolate. A treat she knew firsthand she didn't get at home very often.

"I see a lot of myself in you, Hermione. May I call you that?"

"Um, sure," she said. Eyes widening, no doubt surprised she was asking her for permission.

This wasn't the first time she'd had a conversation with her younger self. She practically lived in the library, so she found herself getting to know this version of herself quite well these first couple months of the school year.

Hermione Granger's first year.

It was odd to see herself from an outsider's point of view like this.

"And please, call me Marie."

"Oh, I couldn't…"

"Well, for tonight then? Anyway, I'm basing this on what I've overheard, mind you. I'm not accusing you of anything nor am I suggesting that you're doing anything wrong. So, please don't take it that way. No one sits, or stands, around badmouthing you, but adults make observations and, sometimes, those observations get shared to see if others are noticing."

"Right, I get it."

"I think, though, that you're trying too hard, Dear."

"What do you mean?"

The idea of trying too hard being a thing was foreign to her. Hermione remembered being surprised not everyone worked to excel.

"Hermione, you are so smart and will come into being a powerful and knowledgeable witch in your own right. I know that without a doubt. I also know that you absolutely belong here."

"But…" she huffed, sounding miffed here. "No one else…"

"There will always be people who will think, believe, that you don't because of their biases or prejudices, but that's true anywhere, Hermione. My husband and I, as well as others over the years, have worked very hard to ensure that you have a place here. This isn't true just for the magical world either. There might be a muggle position that a man gets over a woman for whatever reason. Or someone like myself, at my age, someone younger. The only person who needs to know that you belong here is you. You got your letter, you were born with these magical gifts. Whether you knew about them before you turned eleven or not. They are yours, you were given them. No one, no matter what they say, can take them from you. And, maybe more importantly, you didn't take them from someone else. No one is a squib because you are magical."

"Yes, but, Pansy Parkinson …"

"Ignore what they say, Hermione. Miss Parkinson. Any of them. Do your work, but - and this is important - don't do the learning for them. They need to do the work, too. Everyone learns differently. Some read, and some need the hands on. Everyone needs to be allowed to make their own mistakes and the opportunity to answer questions. Your house may lose points because you don't answer a question, but eventually, others will realize they need to step up."

"Yes, but they don't…"

"Hermione. I know you know the answers. Your professors know that as well. You have shown you are knowledgeable and want to learn everything that you can. However, you do the other students a disservice by wanting to answer everything. They think they don't have to do anything because you'll know it all and answer everything anyway. That's not helping them learn themselves, a lesson and tool they will need in life. How will Neville Longbottom, for instance, learn how and what the plants he's fond of are used for if you don't let him try to answer? Professor Snape's class, for example…"

Young Hermione's eyes snapped to attention at her mention of her potions professor. Hermione was surprised at the admiration she saw there. "He's so brilliant. Did you know he's the youngest professor at Hogwarts?"

"I am aware, yes," she said with a slight chuckle.

She did not recall thinking that about Severus at this age, but she supposed it could be new. No one - but Harry and Ron anyway - had really talked to her about Severus either. Or she had thought it, but just hadn't given voice to the thought because he'd scared her to some degree. He had been a little more prickly and scary back then.

"And that's the kind of thing you're talking about, isn't it?" She huffed with a roll of her eyes, setting her head on one of her arms in obvious frustration. Hermione stopped the chuckle that threatened to come out. That she could find humour in this now said a lot about how far she'd come. She hadn't meant to frustrate the witch further, but she knew full well that no one would say these things to her.

At least she hadn't gotten mad and was listening to her.

Since she'd brought up Severus, she figured she'd start there.

"Will you do me a favour? Do you have an assignment for him due? Professor Snape?"

"Yes, ma'am. What Dittany could be used for."

"Tell me," she said.

"But…" she said, gesturing to the lack of books around her. Further proof she was legitimately upset. There were no books in sight on the table, and that was unusual.

"Tell me what Dittany is for, Hermione. You don't need books. You know. Put it into your words and tell me."

"It is an herb used for healing and can be restorative. There's documentation that it could cure a werewolf bite if mixed with silver. It's somewhat difficult to come by, but a little goes a long way it seems."

She continued with a bit more on the plant.

"Good. Very good, and those were your words, not a book's. Now write that. What did Severus ask for?"

"Six inches."

"Give him exactly six inches, Hermione. Not seven, not eight."

"Oh, but…"

"Hermione," she said, settling her hand over hers again. "Listen to me. I'm trying to help you. If you can learn to do this, I truly think that your peers, those you hope to be friends with, will find you more approachable. They - your professors and classmates - know that you know. Severus knows. I know he doesn't show it. That's just how Severus is. He will be far more impressed if you're able to fill six inches in your own words about Dittany than if you give him twelve that say the same thing the textbook says. He knows what the textbook says very well by now. He or my husband have made additions to the introductory books used in your year. He wants to know that you not only know what the textbook says, but that you know what it means, too. He wants you to think about what goes into Dittany, the ingredients as well as the process of making it. And that you can apply it to your studies. Or the real world. Trust me, books are useful but you may not have one available to you at the time you need it. So, you need to be able to think for yourself on these things."

Her younger self nibbled on her lower lip and Hermione smiled slightly. It was a habit that even at this age she still did sometimes.

"Just think, Hermione, if every student turned in an extra six inches with every assignment…"

"But they don't…"

"Yes, but imagine if they did. Think of how much extra time that would take away from the professors preparing for the next class, or in Severus' case brewing potions that Madam Pomfrey and St. Mungo's need."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Bear in mind, too, he's also head of your house now. That's a new position for him as of this school year as Professor McGonagall didn't want it and the Deputy Headmistress position. So, in addition to teaching and brewing, he has those responsibilities as well, the same as Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Vector."

Her younger self was staring at the tea service intently. She could almost see her mind working, sorting its way through what Hermione had just said to her. All of it. It was the way her mind worked even today.

Her eyes darted back to her older self and Hermione smiled at her. She wasn't angry. That was good. That meant she took her words for what they were, an attempt to help her. Her younger self's eyes grew curious and Hermione wondered what that was about. Had she said something here tonight that she shouldn't? Given herself away somehow? No, she didn't think so.

"Why are you being so nice to me? No one else has talked to me like this."

Ah. Hermione shrugged. How to explain it.

"I think they assumed you'd figure it out, and maybe you would without this conversation tonight, eventually. I don't know. I see some of myself in you. It was a long time ago," she said with a slight smile. "The similarities are there, though. I want to see you succeed, and know that you not only can but will. I want to see you do whatever you want to do, Hermione. Everyone here does. You do not have to show off that you've read three chapters ahead in order to prove you can succeed. And I think my husband would say many of the same things I've said here tonight, as a former professor himself, if he was here instead of me."

"I don't know how to make friends," she said, voice small. Hermione nodded in total understanding when it came to this subject. She still didn't know how, and she'd lived nearly seventy years longer than this moment!

"Truthfully. I don't either. The friends I have, I've made here at Hogwarts and, other than Professor Hooch and a previous healer, are quite a bit younger than me and were students of my husband's."

"Is that weird?"

She shrugged. It was very weird, but not for any reason she could admit to Hermione.

"It is an adjustment, but you will make friends. I know that you will. I will tell you the same thing I've told my children and my grandchildren. It's about quality, not quantity. Even if you only have one or two friends, as long as they are someone you can count on through thick and through thin. Well, that's all that you really need."

She squeezed the girl's hand again, smiling.

"If you answer less and allow others to, that could change. Some people who might like you could be intimidated by you. Or, going the opposite way, some may take your zealousness as you showing off and being conceited. I know that's not the case, I can tell. Others don't see you the way I do while you're here in my library, though. I suggest, too, that you try actually listening to your other classmates. Let them answer and hear what they say. Draco Malfoy is very smart."

"He's one of the purebred…"

"Yes, he is, and I'm sure he's not nice to you. Generations of his family, on both sides, have been in Slytherin. I've watched them personally for years. However, he's still an eleven year old human being who happens to be magical. The same as you. Well, I suppose you're twelve now. He's still very smart. You never know, if you listen to his contributions and rebut them with your own thoughts and opinions, instead of prejudice and hatred, you may get a friendly competition going to see who can be head of the class. He is very competitive."

"You know him?"

She gave a soft chuckle here. There were differences, of course, without a Dark Lord. However, the Malfoys were still very set in their pureblood ways. They weren't as openly hateful. Some of the Harrisons had gone to Hogwarts with various Malfoy family members, as well as LeStrange and Black ones. They weren't tormented, but they were definitely treated as lesser. She hadn't heard of Draco calling this Hermione a mudblood aloud, but that didn't mean he hadn't thought it.

"Of course, the same as I know all of the students. I do not know him well, but I can tell that about him," she said with a smile. "You are, too. You want to be the best. I get that. I think in Draco's case, he not only expects to be the best but it is expected of him. So there is a slight difference. Others need to learn, though, too, Dear."

"I know. I just, this whole world and I feel…"

"You have to catch up and know everything that people like Harry Potter lived with their whole lives so the knowledge is just there."

"Yes," she said with a huff, blowing her bangs out of her face. Sadly, seventy years later, Hermione still wasn't proficient at caring for her hair. Oh, sure, she had improved from this point in time, but there were still times she had to get Severus to help her get the tangles out.

A thought came to her at her younger self's mention of Severus being brilliant.

"Do you like potions, Hermione?"

"I do, it's fascinating, like muggle Chemistry, but different."

"And your other subjects?"

"Well, all of them, except Divination anyway, interest me. I know I'll have to take it when I get to third year. It's a load of rubbish if you ask me, though Professor Firenze seems nice."

"Between you and me, I agree with you, but as long as you try. You don't have to take it forever. You don't even have to take it. It's okay not to be good at, or even interested in, everything. I understand the desire to be that, but it's okay to skip over an elective class. Just like people who like quidditch. I don't mind it, but it's just not an interest of mine. I know enough to follow a conversation, but I'd never initiate one."

"I know, me, too," she said, grabbing a cookie. "These are really good."

"Thank you."

"You made them?"

"I did."

"Is that oatmeal and chocolate chips?"

"It is."

"I like it."

"I think Erik thought that I was crazy the first time I made them for him, but they were favourites of all of my children."

"You have grandchildren here now? As students?"

"I do. Two grandchildren and sixteen great grandchildren are here now. Eight of those sixteen started this year with you." She thought a moment. "Six of those eight your year are Harrisons. We fostered their grandparents so they are ours as far as Erik and I are concerned. Tristan's oldest, Gregory, his birthday is around yours I believe. Mark Daughtery and Victor Childress are the two Prins'."

She watched as Hermione's eyes widened as she'd explained. It was a lot to take in. There were days Hermione couldn't believe all of these children came from her. She knew Severus felt the same way. She was sure that neither of them ever expected it to come from Albus' idea.

There were moments over the past sixty-five years that she'd questioned if what she'd done had been enough. If her parents would be disappointed if they knew. If she should be disappointed for not doing more . She was a librarian and, to this day, a landowner who worked her land. She did things like bake cookies so that her husband and the grandchildren and great grandchildren here could get a homemade treat when they needed one. However, on the days they gathered for Christmas and Easter, or alongside the Black Lake before classes started each September. Well, she thought what she'd accomplished was rather important. These descendants of hers were healthy and overall happy. They held jobs and realized from the get-go that there was no expectation that they only work and live in the magical world.

Their children wanted to have children. Those children wanted to have children. That had to mean she and Severus did a decent job. Yes, hate was still around, but that was there in the muggle world without Voldemort in her original time. They couldn't erase hate, want as they might to do so. It just wasn't possible.

However, if Draco Malfoy, and others like him, could see that Hermione had something to contribute. Well, they'd raise their children with less hate (hopefully) and so on.

So, no, she wasn't disappointed in what she'd accomplished. She knew the inventory in her library practically by heart. She knew over the years the books that had to be bought or traded for because they were valuable but would go out of print one day. There wasn't a student, even those related to her, who didn't ask for her assistance here.

"You must have a lot."

"Our family has grown, yes."

"I'm an only child," she said.

"I am, too, as is my husband."

"Really?"

"Mm hmm. I'm not sure we envisioned our family turning out like it has."

"Are you going to work here much longer?"

If it were anyone else asking the question, she might take offense. She knew this witch was just curious, not trying to tell her that she was too old to be working.

"I don't know. A part of me thinks it might be time to try something else, but then there's a part of me that wonders what I'll do with hours of time on my hands. I'm eighty-two years old and this has been my life for nearly sixty-five of them. There are always things to do at the house, of course. Animals to feed, gardens to fertilize and water, crops to look after."

"You do all of that, too?"

"We have a pretty self-sustaining lifestyle. We do have elves who do a lot of work these days. I'm not twenty anymore," she shrugged. "I do still help, though. Probably more than Erik would like. Don't tell anyone, but he helps a lot these days, too. He loves brewing, which he still does, but he's found he can't do it all day. We've had to buy very little over the years."

"Oh, that's rather ingenious, actually."

"It has come in handy more than a few times, yes. We don't keep to excess and we've tapered off some now that it's just us, but the grandchildren and great grandchildren show interest in learning to do the work. The crops are what we've cut down on most. When there was a Depression and then the second World War and I had six and then eleven and twelve mouths to feed it was rather vast. The kids and adult grandchildren still enjoy homegrown items. Erik and I think it's important that they at least know where things come from. Yes, magic is wonderful, but someone still has to grow the corn or the green beans or the apples in order for it to make it onto your plate in some fashion. It's also important to know how. Do we foresee another war, magical or muggle, or depression happening? Of course not, but one just never knows."

"True."

"If you ever have questions on an assignment," she held up her hand to stave off the argument that she could see brewing in her younger self's eyes. "I know you don't need help. However, if you would like an objective pair of eyes before turning an assignment in. I'd be happy to do that. I've proofed more than a few papers over the years."

"Oh, yes, your tutoring sessions. I hear a lot of students talk about them. That's very nice of you. And thank you." These days, she had them in the room off her office she'd taught her kids and grandkids in over the years. Oh, likely Severus would allow her to continue using his classroom if she asked, but it was time to move the sessions when he took over the potions position.

"You're welcome. Now," she said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It is past curfew. I'll walk you back to your dorm so Mr. Filch doesn't assign you detention."

"Thank you, that's very kind of you. I hadn't even noticed the time."

"It's okay. I'm glad we were able to talk. I have some things to do yet before I go home so it's not too much out of my way to walk you to your dorm."

"You don't live here?"

"I do. My quarters are still my home," she said.

"Oh right."

She walked Hermione back to Gryffindor tower, ensuring she gained entry via the Fat Lady's portrait before heading in the direction of the dungeons. If she knew anything about the younger version of her husband he was in his lab, working himself to exhaustion.

How had he done it the first time acting as a spy, too? He must have never slept! She'd thought of that a few times over the last ten years, but it really never dawned on her until tonight because she was going to see the younger version of him at such a late hour.

"Enter," he bid when she knocked, but sounded none too pleased about it.

He likely knew exactly what time it was, and assumed he'd be undisturbed for the rest of the evening. She could have walked in, of course, the wards still recognized her. She would be able to take down any ward that this version of Severus could think of even if they didn't recognize her. She wouldn't do that, though. He wouldn't like that. At all. She might do it sometime just for a laugh, but not tonight. Not when she wanted to talk to him, and needed him in a somewhat good mood.

"Good evening, Severus," she said.

"Marie," he said with a polite bow of his head. She'd never really seen the polite side to Severus as a student. It was interesting to note how … chivalrous he could be. He'd held her chair for her at the head table a few times if Erik was not there yet.

"How are you this evening?" she asked.

"Doing well, thank you for asking," he said. "I hope that you are, too."

She saw by the ingredients laid out that he was working on blood replenishing potion. She moved to the other side of his table then, something she'd done with the older version of him many hundreds of times by now.

By now, this Severus provided potions to Poppy and St. Mungo's. Her Severus' apothecary was a more specialized service, to individuals or to those with specific maladies.

"Help yourself," he murmured, but there was no bite to his words. Well, not much of a bite. He valued his space, and didn't welcome this elderly witch, his mentor's wife, honing in on it.

"Thank you, I don't mind if I do," she said, knowing the response was cheeky but she couldn't resist.

She caught him watching her more than once, expecting, she presumed, to catch her cutting this or that wrong, or adding things in the wrong order.

He remained gleefully silent.

"You had a good teacher, obviously," he murmured after a while of silence between them.

"Indeed, as did you."

"Yes," he said with a nod.

"Hermione Granger," she said.

"I was in a good mood," he said.

She scowled, taking a deep breath.

He didn't know.

This wasn't her Severus being an arse.

"I had a talk with her this evening. She was in tears in the library."

"Of course she was in the library."

The nerve of this wizard saying that! She held her pestle up and shook it at him.

"And you, Severus Tobias Snape, were any better? Remember to whom you are speaking!"

"Yes, Madam," he said, sounding sullen.

"That wasn't what I meant, Severus. I'm not trying to insult you! You know that I am not. She's studious, that's not a bad thing. If it wasn't for you, why is it for her? That's all that I meant. And don't you dare tell me it's because she's a witch!"

She held up her hand, stopping him from going off on a tangent. She knew. His older self had told her many times over the years the things about her homework assignments that had driven him insane.

"Fine," he said.

"We had a talk. I won't go into the more personal details of the conversation, but we did talk some of her schoolwork. I suggested that she shorten her essays to exactly what has been asked. I suggested that she let others in classes answer questions."

"And you know of these issues how?"

"Good grief. Do you think I'm just a showpiece here, Severus. I have ears! I listen to you professors talk. Just because I'm a librarian doesn't mean I am deaf, incapable of understanding, or an imbecile. No one has wagered one complaint about my children or grandchildren when they've left my classroom being unprepared. I still host my tutoring sessions and have done so for nearly sixty-five years under two different headmasters and several different instructors. Clearly, I'm a capable instructor."

He grumbled something that sounded vaguely like insolence, and she couldn't help but laugh. He scowled at her, which only made her laugh more.

"She doesn't feel as if she fits in, Severus. That's her main problem."

"So?"

Oh really? He was going to play that game? As if he didn't know exactly what that felt like!

"Do you remember what that was like? Coming here, expecting it to be wonderful, and having no friends because you were a bit too smart for your own good? And because your robes weren't as nice as James Potter's or Sirius Black's?"

"And yet, I survived. She will, too."

She looked at him then. Did he know the state of the robes he was supposed to be sent here in? She doubted it.

"Ask your mother the state of the robes she should have been able to afford compared to the robes you were sent home with, and tell me that things weren't a little easier for you based on what you did get instead of what you should have gotten."

"What does the state of my robes twenty years ago have to do with …."

"She wants to learn, Severus."

"Then an educational institution is exactly the right place for her. She just needs to let others learn as well."

"Yes, well, change won't happen in a second, but I think she heard me. She wants to fit in."

"Okay," he drawled, regarding her now.

"I was thinking," she said, meeting his gaze after a moment's pause.

"Oh boy," he muttered. She shook her head at that. He sounded exactly like her Severus when saying those two words.

"Maybe you could use her assistance."

"Absolutely not!"

"Why not?"

"Because she is a first year!"

Valid reason, truthfully. She knew that.

"Mm, so her chopping is dissatisfactory?"

"She suffices."

"She is incapable of scrubbing a cauldron?"

"I wouldn't know, as I've never had to assign such a task to her."

"Her ability to read potion instructions is faulty?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Then?"

"There are other students who…"

"Who? Draco Malfoy? Tell me he wouldn't drive you crazy with his pureblood drivel, how many witches want to snog him, and how great his father is every second of the day?"

"Granger can't shut up either."

"Have you ever actually watched her work, Severus?"

"She's in my class."

"That's when you have twenty other students to lecture."

"Why do you care?"

"Because she's a smart and capable witch, and I'd hate to see someone of her calibur go home because no one gave her a chance."

More silence. She glanced up at him a few times though. She'd caught him off guard with that statement. He hadn't realized she was that miserable. He truly did not seem to like the idea of her leaving the magical world anymore than she and Erik did.

"You truly think that she would do that?"

"Does that bother you?" she asked, more hopeful than she should be. She had to remember she was only twelve currently. That didn't mean she didn't want Severus to at least like her!

"She is … capable."

"Think of the difference Erik made for your Hogwarts experience, Severus."

"She has several professors who would jump up and down at the idea. Minerva … "

"Not to insult Minerva, she's a dear friend of mine. However, do you really think she is capable of challenging Miss Granger the way she deserves to be?"

He huffed, made a fist with his left hand.

"Unlike you, Severus, she has a choice. She could return to the muggle world and probably achieve great things as a solictor or whatever she sets her mind on. She has parents who will love and support her no matter which world she embraces, even if they don't understand this one. She didn't come here looking to get away from anyone or anything."

"What do you know of it?"

"You'd be surprised what I know. I'm not asking you to like her, though I think if you gave her the chance you would. I'm just asking you to give her something more to challenge her mind."

"Why me?"

She sighed.

Stubborn arse.

She rubbed her wedding ring with her thumb, remembering a different version of this man vowing not to be an arse to her.

"Because of all the professors here, you are the one who should want to help a struggling student who doesn't feel as though she can ever fit in! Damn it, Severus Snape. Where would you be without Hogwarts? Where would you be if my husband…"

"I will think on it," he said simply.

"That's all that I was asking. If you do agree and after two or three sessions she's intolerable, then fine. You tried. However, if she doesn't receive guidance she'll never be able to change her thinking and become a witch."

"Is this going to get you in trouble?"

The question came later, after a good bit of silence between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. At least for her. It was, truly, just like working with Erik. She couldn't say whether he found it odd or not.

"What?" she asked with a slight frown.

"Being here so late with me."

"Oh, Erik? No," she laughed slightly at that. "I'm not sure whether that's a joke you're attempting to make at my expense or a compliment, insinuating that my husband would be jealous of my spending time with a man sixty years younger than I am."

"Age is only a number," he said.

"You are correct. It is," she said.

She finished her potion then, bottling it for him so he could add it to his tray full of vials. She presumed it was for St. Mungo's. Poppy didn't need this much blood replenishing potion these days.

Thank goodness.

She stepped up to him then, setting a hand over his. She felt the back of his hand tense. Oh, yes, this Severus Snape wasn't used to her touching him. He wasn't used to anyone touching him.

"You are a good man, Severus Snape. You are brave, loyal, and so very strong. I don't just mean physically either. I wish more people could see you through my eyes." She kissed him on the cheek. "And if I may be so bold as to say so, I have grown very fond of you. If I wasn't married and such an age difference was truly not an issue for you. Well, no sense thinking on that. Is there? Have a good night."

"Good night, Marie," she heard him say as she left the lab.

"What are you smiling for?" Severus asked her when she'd returned to her quarters. Theirs, but she was the staff member. He was just the spouse. She enjoyed teasing him about that. He allowed her her amusement.

"I can't smile because I'm happy to see you?"

"Oh my, what mischief has my insolent wife been up to this evening?"

"Funny, Severus may have called me insolent, too. And was, in fact, acting the role of an arse quite well."

"Did he? Was he? Well, he's obviously an intelligent wizard who is not taken in easily by subterfuge and pretty smiles."

"Oh, I don't know, I think he might have been flirting with me."

"Really?"

"He asked if my being there with him so late was going to cause an issue."

"Is that right? Hmm, should I challenge him to a duel for good measure to ensure your reputation is intact?"

She snorted none too ladylike. Clearly, the very idea was amusing to his wife. "I think my reputation is pretty staunchly intact by now, considering my great grandchildren are roaming these halls. I may have told him that without you …"

"You did not!"

"I may have. I'm sure he knows I was teasing. Now, however, the idea of both of you…"

"Absolutely not."

"Mm, afraid I'll trade you in for the younger model?"

He scoffed. Well, if he were being honest, the idea did … unsettle him. He would by this point be quite lost without her. He was pretty sure she knew that was fact, too.

"I stand by my previous statement. He would not know what to do with you."

"I could teach him."

"Marie Rose Prins, stop!"

She chuckled heartily. "I'm teasing you, you know that, correct? Now, admittedly, if we were maybe a little closer to him in age…"

That surprised him. Why it should, he wasn't sure, considering she'd initiated their physical relationship in the very lab she'd just been in with his younger self. "You would?"

"That would depend on whether you'd allow it, but I can admit to finding the idea a curiosity."

"Because you've read about it?"

Her eyes brightened and he shook his head. "Exactly."

"I think I should be reviewing the books you read from now on."

"Far too late, my brain is perversely spoiled now. However, interesting to note, he did say that age is just a number."

"Marie," he said cautiously.

He knew where this was heading. It was no longer about his version of her.

"Don't worry, it wasn't this me I was thinking of when I was glad to hear him make that statement."

"She is twelve, Marie!"

"You'd rather she end up with someone like Draco Malfoy?"

"Of course not! Those are her only choices? A pompous arse or someone twenty years older than her. Come on. She deserves better than that."

"Oh, so you don't want her with him? Is it that he's too old for her, or she's too young for him? Which is it?"

"Marie."

He'd just said something very wrong, and he knew it. Merlin's beard. He had not meant for it to come out sounding the way it did.

"You can go home, Erik," she said quietly.

"Marie."

"No, you just implied that there's something wrong with us. They are us, damn it. Go home."

"This is home. You are home."

"You have a funny way of showing it sometimes."

"You cannot force the issue!"

"I wasn't trying to force any issue. She is feeling hopeless, Erik! Nothing is the same as it was. She has no friends. None. You at least had some who tolerated you for your ability to aid them with homework. And earn your house points. You had Remus and, well, you. No one will even take that assistance from her. I saw her in the library tonight crying."

"Is she okay? Are you okay?"

"Do you actually care?"

That hurt, but he supposed he deserved it.

"Of course I do, for both of you. You think this is easy for me? I don't see her as frequently as you do, but I'm aware she's not happy. You think I don't look at her and realize in less than five years…"

"It was a war. We did what we had to do. Are you saying now you regret it? Because you've been doing a pretty good impression of a happy man for years."

"Of course I don't. I'd do it again without hesitation if Albus walked through the door and said we had to do it again."

She huffed, running her fingers through her hair.

"She's fine. I gave her some advice, based on things you'd mentioned over the years when the subject has been touched on. Do not exceed six inches if that's what's assigned. Do not quote the book, think about what you read means, and tailor your response so it's your own thought process. And let others answer questions."

"And?"

"She seemed receptive to my advice. She thinks he's brilliant," she said.

"I'm sorry?"

She still hadn't turned around to look at him, so he wasn't sure if he was out of the woods yet as far as her ire went. He'd stepped up behind her, but hadn't reached to touch her yet.

"She thinks Severus is brilliant. That's what planted the seed that he could pay back your kindness by letting her assist him."

"I see," he said.

"And if over time they realize…"

"You cannot force it."

"I know. I didn't. You cannot deny it's a sound idea. She needs the mental push and stimulation. You know that. She needs that hands-on, and potions is about the only thing she can truly be hands-on with at this age yet. She can aid him in chopping or scrubbing or collecting specimens. I do not want her to quit, Erik."

He sucked in a breath then. The idea of the magical world being without Hermione Granger was very wrong indeed, at any age. He was perhaps extremely biased, he realized, but still. He very much wanted to see what this Hermione Granger might achieve without a war and a meddling Albus Dumbledore interfering.

"You think she would leave?"

"He asked me the same question. Yes, I think if it continues on where she has no friends and she's ridiculed for knowing everything, that she could pack it up and decide muggle school is the better route. Unlike him  - you, she has supportive parents who would love her no matter her decision. She didn't come here looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She came here because she thought she finally found the reason she was always so different. She hasn't gotten that deep into her studies yet, so yes I could see it. Do I think she'd do it lightly? No, but I think that she could if it gets bad enough. She was crying, Erik! A troll turned things around for me. She doesn't have that."

"No, I suppose she doesn't. I didn't realize."

"I knew. I've watched her, but I couldn't butt in."

"Why tonight?"

"She was in the library, I heard her crying. I gave her tea and chocolate as well as some advice."

He knew she wouldn't interfere too much either. Advice she could take or leave.

"Your age has never bothered me, Marie."

"Why did you say that then?"

"Let me finish!"

"Okay."

"Your age never bothered me. The idea that this attractive, intelligent, and talented witch was mine and I could do … nothing, was very frustrating. That wasn't important, though, because I wasn't going to do something stupid to make you hate me. I couldn't fathom why you would strap yourself to me of all wizards. The age gap yes, sure, but you deserved so much better than me. I've changed quite a bit over the years. At the time, though, I was pretty miserable. There were evenings before we started sharing a bed that I wondered what we were doing. It would never work. We could never pass off being what Albus wanted us to be. I just don't want you to be disappointed if their lives take a different turn. We know they could be happy, but that doesn't mean they will go that route. He is a respectable man, Marie, as I was. I would never have approached you. Perhaps after you graduated, but someone probably would have had to point out to me we would have made a good match. I was too busy to look for such things. He is not as busy as I was, so maybe he will see things I could or would not. However, he would never do anything…"

"Nor would I expect or want him to. I just want her to stay. And for him to see her as more than an insolent know-it-all."

"Well, you are both, no matter your age."

"Arse," she said and he chuckled. He set his hands on her shoulders then, sensing she was no longer upset with him.

"Would you like me to speak with him?"

"No, I don't want to push too hard, or to make it seem as if we're forcing his hand. I merely pointed out that you had done the same thing for him when he was rather alone."

"All right. Am I forgiven?"

She sighed, turning to face him then. "That hurt! That you…"

"I did not mean it the way it sounded. However, we did what we did so that she has a choice."

"I know. And yes."

"I'm not delegated to our empty home then?"

"No," she said.

"Thank Merlin. Shall I prove to you that I like you just fine?"

"Like me just fine?"

He chuckled. "Oh, do I need to aim for better than like?"

"I'd say the bar needs to be set a little higher, yes."

"I aim to please. Shall we then?"

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com