He should have known he'd find her here. As she'd gotten older and less reliant on her parents it hadn't been as easy to find her during these trips back.

Today she was at a park not far from her home, her nose in a book despite the rather nice weather and the fact there was no school currently in session.

At least she's outside.

He took a moment to take her in. This Hermione Granger didn't know about magic or Hogwarts yet. She didn't know about war (beyond what she read in history books), prophecies, or soul marks.

There was no one else in the area she was sitting, which was good. If there was, he may have hesitated in approaching her. He hadn't approached her publicly in areas close to her home often prior to when she would recognize him as her professor, realizing what it could look like to some.

He made his way in that direction, watching for her to recognize someone was approaching. She didn't, deeply engrossed in her novel it seemed. He knew the Hermione in his current time while still keeping her nose in books was somewhat aware of her surroundings while doing so. A product of vigilance and war. As well as understanding people tended to have loose lips and forget people who were reading were capable of hearing. He, himself, had used reading as a cover to overhear some enlightening conversations over the years.

"Is it alright if I sit?" he asked, gesturing to the other end of the bench she was sitting on.

"Oh!" She glanced up from her book, clearly startled. "Of course."

"Reading anything interesting?" he asked after a moment's silence. He didn't come here to sit and say nothing to her after all.

"Yes, actually. An American author," she said, showing him the cover of her book. "The main character is a medical examiner."

"And it's good?" he asked, taking note of the author Patricia Cornwell. He couldn't help but think she'd be happy to note the author would be writing more books if he wasn't mistaken. He didn't pay real close attention to current muggle fiction, but this author seemed to churn them out much as the Grisham fellow she'd introduced him to.

He supposed some would question her parents' allowing her to read such books, but he knew this girl wouldn't do well with the drivel geared to her age bracket. She needed a challenge. He was glad to see that her parents recognized that.

"Very," she said, beaming at him.

"And it's appropriate for someone your age?"

Time to find out if her parents actually knew what she was reading.

She shrugged. "I suppose some would say no, but my parents are of the opinion that as long as I'm reading."

"It's a good opinion."

"I think so," she agreed.

"Have you enjoyed your summer?"

"Yes," she said, but her answer wasn't very convincing. "I'm ready to go back to school, though."

"You miss it?"

"I do!"

An odd answer indeed for someone her age. He remembered before Hogwarts he wasn't too keen on school. Once at Hogwarts he never wanted to go home, but there were reasons for that, of course.

"I liked school, too."

"I get laughed at a lot when I say that."

"I bet you do," he said with a nod of understanding.

"You're not working?" she asked.

"Not today," he replied. "I'm a teacher and am off for the summer like you."

"Oh! What do you teach?"

"Chemistry."

She nodded simply. She wouldn't have much knowledge of the subject yet to have formed an opinion.

"Why aren't you with your friends?"

She shrugged. "I don't really like doing the same things they do."

"Oh?"

She scrunched her nose a bit.

"All they talk about is boys and makeup."

"You don't like those things?"

"I'd rather read."

It was a bit shocking how alike they were.

"Surely you have someone who isn't as shallow as the others."

"I did," she murmured.

"Did?"

"She moved."

"Ah," he said.

"I've always been different. Mom says I'm special, but I know I'm just odd."

"You most certainly are not odd," he said.

He wasn't sure why he said it, or why he even cared that she thought of herself in that way. Other than he recognized what it was like to feel alone. Different. If he'd felt accepted or liked who's to say he would've been taken in by Tom and the Death Eaters.

"It's okay, Sir, I've come to accept it from the moment I walked into school able to read when others couldn't. My teacher was actually upset with my mother for teaching me to read."

He arched a brow at that. Did teachers really get upset about such things?

"The thing was, though, my mother hadn't taught me. I taught myself."

Of course she had. He knew she wasn't lying or boasting either. If there was anyone capable of teaching herself to read it was this girl right here.

"How did you manage that?"

"Mom read the same book to me. You know what parents are like," she shrugged as if it should be an obvious thing.

He didn't. He had no idea what good parents were like. His mother tried, of course, for a while, but she certainly hadn't read bedtime stories to him. She was apparently waiting for him to reply so he nodded in acknowledgement.

"So, I'd turn the light on afterward and sound out the words. Eventually, I went on to other books, saw the same words," she shrugged.

That sounded uncomplicatedly easy, actually.

"Well, your parents are no doubt proud of you, and very lucky."

"That's what they say. Books are my friend, and will never let me down is what they tell me."

He bit back a snort at that.

"Books are certainly a gift to those like you and I who appreciate them."

"Do you have kids?" she asked.

"No," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Why not?"

"Well, one has to be married first and I haven't found anyone I care to spend my life with."

"Oh," she said. "Our neighbor has a baby and she's not married."

"Well, of course it can happen," he said cautiously. "Parents divorce." His parents hadn't, of course. He often wondered if things would've turned out differently if they had.

"She wasn't married."

"Ah," he said. That did not happen very often in his world, but he understood in the muggle world it was happening - and accepted - more and more often.

"Would you let yours read this book?"

"If she were your age, you mean?"

She nodded.

"I guess it would depend on the child. If she was like you, clearly able to grasp the subject matter, yes."

She chewed on her lower lip then, thinking over what he'd said. She nodded simply.

"I get made fun of a lot. Other kids are reading things like Beverly Cleary and I just couldn't care less about Ramona or Beezus. I'd much rather read about Dr. Scarpetta."

He couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Children are cruel to those they don't understand or view as being different."

She nodded.

"If it means anything, I was different, too."

"You were picked on?"

"I was."

She nodded, turning away from him to look at a dog who was getting walked by its owner nearby.

"I won't lie to you and say it was easy, but you can persevere and succeed if you keep your eye on the prize."

"Which is?"

"Why, succeeding where those who make fun of you cannot, of course."

She gave a curt nod.

"That's the best way to show them they were wrong."

"It just hurts sometimes."

"I know," he said. "It may have been long ago, but where I work I see children doing the same things done to me."

"I suppose," she whispered. "Why do you do it then? That must be painful to be constantly reminded of being teased."

"It can be. I've developed thick skin, I guess."

There was probably more he could do for the kids he saw getting picked on, but it was hard to tell the difference between outright bullying as he'd been subjected to by the Marauders and one-time teasing. There was also the problem of needing to appear to favor the Slytherins and the Dark Lord's beliefs. He did, of course, favor his house but he felt some of them pushed the boundaries a little too much.

He glanced at his wristwatch and realized he'd stayed longer than was probably acceptable given the circumstances.

"With that I should be off, I'm afraid. I appreciate you letting me sit with you."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed.

"It was a pleasure talking with you, Miss…"

"Hermione," she offered, smiling brightly at him.

"I'm Severus," he said, offering her a slight bow. He'd thought of offering her his hand, but realized he could not risk her responding to his magic. She still had a bit of time yet before she found out about Hogwarts and the world she belonged to away from this one. "Perhaps I'll run into you again some sunny day."

"Okay."

"Enjoy your book. And do continue reading what pleases you, Hermione."

"You, too."

He snorted softly at that and took his leave from the park.

December 1996

Severus laid in bed the morning after Hermione had found him in his quarters unconscious. The Dark Lord had not been happy with the information Severus had to pass on. He couldn't make things happen! Usually he had a feeling when a summons would be forthcoming so he and Albus had time to concoct some information for him to pass along. This one, though, had come only days after the previous one.

It made him realize that the Dark Lord was getting frustrated. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Frustration could lead to disorganization, but Severus knew Tom was anything but disorganized.

She knew.

Well, she didn't know, but she was one step closer to knowing. She knew they shared something. She could see his mark as he could see hers the day he saw her in the infirmary. And as a newborn. She knew he was the only one who could see hers, and he presumed she'd think the same in reverse for his.

She'd have questions, and Severus knew she would not settle for less than the complete answer.

He'd also committed to visiting her over Christmas break. He was strangely looking forward to it. They hadn't had the money for luxury items such as VCRs when he was growing up. Hell, VCRs weren't even a thing until he'd just about been done with Hogwarts and by then he had no desire to immerse himself in muggle forms of entertainment.

She'd asked him once if he had children. He'd answered the question, but he was curious now why she'd asked it. He'd never thought having children was a possibility. She'd mentioned one of her neighbors having a child without being married. Severus, using his spying abilities for personal gain for a change, discovered that the neighbor in question was an older couple's daughter. The chap in question had refused to take responsibility and she'd been unwilling to give up the child for adoption. Her parents had agreed to help her while she finished her university schooling. She was lucky, he knew others out there weren't so fortunate.

The Fates seemed to think that Hermione was the person with whom he should have children. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd look and act like. Doomed to be bookish and awkward, no doubt. The potential, if they took after her at any rate, to be rather attractive. A pretty thing to think about, but nothing more apt to happen than the fiction novels she enjoyed reading.

He made his way to the Great Hall where an owl made a delivery to him to his surprise. As well as everyone else seated at the head table judging by the curious looks they gave him. He set the oddly-shaped and seemingly hastily wrapped parcel beside his plate until he finished his meal.

Albus and Minerva were both visibly disappointed when he stood to leave, taking the parcel with him unopened. Others likely were as well, but they hid it. Busy bodies, both of them.

He made his way to his classroom and opened the parcel. It was nothing more than parchment with some Honeydukes treats inside.

I had no potions to aid you, but perhaps some sweets will help you heal faster. H.

He stared at the parchment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He shook his head slightly, not sure what he was supposed to feel at such a gift. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him something for no reason. He wasn't sure anyone ever had.

He picked up a chocolate frog, guessing it would be Albus' card just because that was the way his luck worked.

"What am I going to do with you, Hermione Granger?" he muttered.

He opened his desk drawer, putting the sweets away.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com