Unexpected Choices

As always – Ms. Rowling thanks for letting your characters come over and play at my house for a little while. We did have a great time, but alas they must return home to you now.


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CHAPTER 2
Where do I belong?


Hermione darted down the hallway straightening her robes as they pulled against her overly large satchel. Her hair fell around her face in a golden halo of mahogany curls as it escaped from the simple bun she had tied it in while studying earlier in the day.

“Oi, `Mione, over here!” She looked over to where Ron’s voice called out from a doorway. He was totally unmistakable with his wide grin and glistening red hair. Smiling, she watched Ron reach out and snag Harry’s sleeve, before pulling him into the small doorway beside him to wait for her.

“Hurry up, Hermione! McGonagall said she’ll take house points from anyone who’s late to dinner tonight,” Harry said as he watched Hermione fight her way through the throng of hungry students heading the Great Hall.

“If you spent a little bit of time in the Common Room rather than always being in the library you’d know this too,” Ron teased.

“Well, I didn’t see McGonagall complaining about my excessive use of the library on the last Transfiguration essay.” She rolled her eyes, laughing at Ron who had wrinkled up his face at her.

The playful banter of the three students was broken as Headmaster Dumbledore walked between them without saying a word. “Good evening, Headmaster,” Hermione spoke in a demure voice.

“Oh. Yes, yes, Miss Granger. Good evening to you.” He nodded at her distractedly as he continued walking.

Seeing her final chance to reach the doorway where Harry and Ron were waiting, Hermione darted behind the headmaster and cut off Severus as she followed behind the Headmaster.

From the brief moment he saw her, Severus noted that she was different than any girl he had seen before. She was not strikingly beautiful, but there was something about her that immediately attracted him. He knew it could not be the hair that was falling out of its loose bushy bun, but his fingers itched to see if the curly tendrils falling around her neck were as soft as he imagined them to be. Her eyes were wider than he usually liked and she was much shorter than him, but Severus’ eyes darkened in appreciation as he saw her robes dance around her shapely hips while she walked in front of him. His appraisal of her though was quickly broken as Dumbledore stopped before a pair of large oaken doors and waited impatiently for him.

Severus bumped into Hermione and, for an awkward moment, watched as she lost her balance under the weight of her swinging satchel. Without thinking, he caught her small hand gently in his larger one in an attempt to steady her. With that one innocent touch, he initiated a cascade of desire that woke something deeper within them both. Hermione broke their contact almost immediately as she jumped back stuttering.

“Mr. Snape?” Dumbledore said clearing his throat, immediately destroying their connection.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide at Dumbledore’s voice. Snape. It couldn’t be, she thought. Narrowing her eyes she watched as he quickly turned and strode toward the doorway, reminded of his destination by Dumbledore’s voice. But when his eyes strayed back and locked again briefly with hers, she sucked in her breath as their previous connection intensified. It can’t be. He can’t be who I think he is. It doesn’t make sense.

“Come on, `Mione. We have to get going,” Ron called out again as he waved his arm impatiently waking her from her reverie. But her intrigue with Mr. Snape wasn’t so easily dismissed. With a final look at his retreating back, she began to gingerly move through the throng of students.

At the same time, Severus found that he could not let the girl go. His mind kept straying back to her as she cautiously walked away from him. He needed to know who she was. To his surprise, she glanced over her shoulder at him and gave him a wide smile before reaching the doorway with Ron and Harry.

Turning, he hurried to where Dumbledore was waiting for him, he knew that he had to find out who she was and meet her again. Waiting for the doors to open for their arrival, he still felt warmed by her smile. Glancing back for a final view of this intriguing young woman, Severus felt the warm spot in his chest chill as he watched her bestow the same warm smile on the pair of boys waiting for her.

“James,” he whispered in disbelief as he focused on the darker of the pair waiting for the girl.

“Headmaster,” he paused as doors to the Great Hall magically opened for them, “who was the Gryffindor you were just speaking with?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Why was she speaking with James?” Dumbledore heard the boy’s warm and curious tone become deathly chilled at James’ name.

“James?” Dumbledore turned at the change in Severus’ voice and looked curiously at the boy beside him.

“James Potter, Sir.”

“That is not James Potter, Severus. That’s his son Harry.” He waved his hand distractedly at Severus as he scanned the long table for Minerva. Seeing her tall hat move as she spoke, Albus turned and looked at the boy. “I need to speak with Professor McGonagall. Please, sit here.” He pointed to the chair that had been Severus’ seat when he accepted the position as Potions Master and walked away.

The seemingly old man moved with an effortless grace toward the woman with tall hat and tartan band. With a wave of his arms, he cast a Silencing Ward around them so their conversation would be as private as one could be in the Great Hall. Although Albus’ charm kept the conversation private, their fierce gestures and angry gazes said more to their curious audience than anything that was being said within the warded area.
Everyone in the room was enchanted by the unsettling quiet that came from the center of the dais, except Severus. He sat alone watching as the long benches at each house table filled with students gratefully released from their studies for the day.

Soon though, he was placed center stage to the drama that was taking place as Professor McGonagall pointed at him. Suddenly, he felt extremely uncomfortable under the weight of the hundred eyes that were now focused on him and the many fingers that were being covertly pointed toward where he sat. Deciding to ignore them, he found his gaze drifting from the Hall to the Enchanted Ceiling, relishing the sense of freedom he found as he looked up at the endless expanse of the star speckled sky he found there.

Time slowly crept forward and the sounds in the Hall transformed from a low hum to a tittering silence as the argument between the headmaster and his deputy grew more heated. Severus though was grateful that it had replaced him as the center of everyone’s attention.

With a rueful smile he noted that, save the date, everything appeared as it had when he was last here; however that was not quite true. He smiled as he thought about the girl from the hallway. With a renewed sense of purpose, Severus scanned the groups of students arriving in the Great Hall as he looked for her mass of wild hair or the unusual lump of an overly large book satchel that would announce her presence.

Sitting up straighter, Severus noticed her as she walked through the large doors of the Great Hall with James Potter’s son and the red-head. He was surprised at the graceful way she maneuvered through the clusters of students, something he would not have expected after their awkward meeting earlier. He laughed inwardly as he watched Hermione move through the Great Hall, completely forgetting the importance of the heated exchange between the two professors. But, as he saw the secret smile she gifted to the redhead beside her, his eyes narrow and his lips thinned dangerously. The familiarity of their touch and glances released something darker from within him as he ran a calloused finger unconsciously over his left forearm. Severus watched Hermione blush at something the redhead said as he gently ran the back of her hand down his cheek. Despite the distance between them, Severus could swear he heard her laughing softly at something Potter’s son had said as the darker boy reached across the table and punched the redhead lightly in the arm.

“Albus, I don’t think this is a good idea.” McGonagall’s normally lilting voice was heavily accented into a deep brogue as he strode out of the warded bubble breaking its spell. Throwing her shoulders back, she stiffly followed him to her own smaller version of his chair. Dropping down into her chair, she sat stiff back and still. The only motion that showed her to be alive was the deep calming breath she took that set the large feather in her hat dancing above her.

Minerva McGonagall glanced quickly over to where Severus sat and her eyes changed. For the first time since Albus pulled her aside, the spark of anger was gone and found itself replaced with a dangerously impertinent glint. Even her face softened as the hard line that was her lips lifted up in a secretive smile.

The volume within the room fell several decibels as the Headmaster noisily pushed back the chair he had just seated himself in. “Before we tuck in for supper tonight, I have the rather unusual duty of informing you that we are welcoming a new student to our ranks of our seventh years at Hogwarts.” He gestured toward Severus before continuing his speech, “As is the tradition with all first years, he will be Sorted into the house that will be his home until the end of his tenure at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall, if you will.”

Settling back into his chair, Dumbledore watched the many faces in the Great Hall as Minerva brought the stool to the front dais before nodding to Albus. The older man, with twinkling eyes, gestured Severus to the stool that dominated it.

“Do you remember this?” McGonagall gently placed her hand on the younger man’s shoulder waking him from his silent appraisal of the Great Hall.

Seating himself on the tall stool before the table he swallowed hard as he nodded, “Yes, Professor.”

Leaning closer, she whispered in a comforting burr just loud enough for him to hear, “Don’t be scared, Severus.”

He looked up at her from where he sat on the old battered wooden stool, his large dark eyes shinning out against his porcelain skin as he tried to figure out her odd words.

Looking out over the murmuring students he shrugged casually. “I’m not really scared. The Sorting Hat does not lie. I am a Slytherin because deep down inside that is who I really am.”

McGonagall stared in silent fascination at Severus’ grim fatalism. She watched his dark eyes survey the amassed students, and again she found herself helpless to prevent the change in his face as he became aware of the student’s speculative looks. The openness of the young man that she had found in the hallway was quickly being replaced with an aged mask of careworn lines that carefully guarded his truer self. She felt a pull in her heart as she looked down at the boy sitting before her. How could someone so young be so filled with a sense of loathing and self-condemnation? What strength does it take to face your own darkest future? Why didn’t he just fight against it all? Severus, why didn’t you just call on the strength and power you always had at you disposal to protect yourself? She shuddered as she remembered the numerous times he had returned to Hogwarts beaten, battered, bruised, and half conscious. Looking back down at where Severus sat on the stool, she saw him as he was now – rather then – in his youth. His arm was still free of the Dark Mark, his face was unlined by years of worry and plotting, and his body was unscarred, by Voldemort and the passing of the years.

Unable to speak through the cascade of emotions she felt, McGonagall gently patted Severus on a robe-clad shoulder as she went to pick up the Sorting Hat that had been ceremoniously placed beside Dumbledore. McGonagall’s mind returned again to all the sacrifices that Severus Snape had made over the years to help defeat Voldemort. Although he had proven himself to be an invaluable alley in winning The War, many people still thought of him as the persona of the “greasy black bat” and the “unjust git” that he had worked so hard to create when he was their most valued spy. Few people ever took the time to look beneath the surface of the façade and see the man that he truly was. Looking down, she carefully ran her hand across the tattered brim of the Sorting Hat and smiled at the very un-Slytherin qualities that he had shown throughout the years since his return to Hogwarts as a professor.

“Maybe the future can change the past.” She smiled as she whispered her thoughts aloud as she looked from Severus to the Sorting Hat.

Loudly clearing her throat, she walked to the stool schooling her face to hide her thoughts. “Quiet everyone.”

Some of the students began to quiet down, but it was not until the candles that floated above the tables flickered in unison from a subtle flick of her hand that Hall became quiet.

“Thank you.” She nodded before continuing on. “The House which the Sorting Hat places,” she paused for a brief second as she turned to look at Dumbledore who merely inclined his head gesturing for her to continue. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself for the reaction her revelation would create.

“The House in which the Sorting Hat places Sebastian Snape will welcome him and show him every curtsey that is expected from Hogwarts.” With a secret smile she cut here eyes over to meet Albus’ anger darkened eyes. Few knew Severus’ middle name, and McGonagall truly felt that if Severus was to receive the second chance that Albus was so vociferous about she would not let petty jealousies and past experiences cloud anyone’s judgment. Smiling gaily at Albus, she saw his eyes dangerously twinkle in a way that said, “We will discuss this later, Minerva.”

During this silent exchange, the effect of McGonagall’s words at the Slytherin table was immediate and went completely unnoticed by the head table. The Slytherin table, led by Draco Malfoy, sounded their approval for the new student by clapping each other on the back in congratulation at having a Snape in their midst. Not only would he be Slytherin, of that there was no doubt, but he would also be in their year. “In-vin-ci-bile,” Malfoy snorted darkly as he thought of the power this would give him over the rest of the students. Their Head of House’s son. Even Snape wouldn’t deny some preferential treatment to his own son’s friends and Draco Malfoy was determined to be the boy’s newest and best friend.

But the rest of the school did not feel such euphoria. At the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables dark looks and nervous whispers were exchanged as they overhead Malfoy’s dramatically loud whisper.

“What’s the use of even Sorting him? He looks too much like Professor Snape to be anything other than Slytherin,” Ronald Weasley’s disgusted tone summed up all but one of the opinions at the table.

Hermione’s soft voice was the only fount of reason at the long table. “Looks don’t have to mean anything, Ron. Harry was given a choice.”

Swallowing hard, she looked at Snape sitting alone on the stool and felt her heart flutter at the thought of their meeting in the hallway. Soon her mind wandered back to the day she had been Sorted. Hermione remembered how even though she had been new to Hogwarts, she had at least known that she was not the only one uncertain about the outcome of the Sorting that first day. She had already spoken with Ron, Harry, and Neville earlier on the train. Everyone had been excited and the cheers of welcome that emanated from each table as the students were Sorted had made her feel better; but most of all, she was always aware that she was not alone as the central focus of the entire school’s dinner. Looking around at the sidelong glances and nervous titters from her friends and the gleefully manipulative way that Malfoy was laughing, Hermione doubted that there would be much applause for Mr. Snape from whatever house he was assigned, even if it was Slytherin.

Harry and Ron brought their heads close together across the wide table ignoring Hermione’s logical observation. “What d’ya think, Harry? Could he be Snape’s son?”

Harry only shrugged as he looked up at the dais.

“There is no mystery about the things he did as a Death Eater. The Raids and all…,” Ron’s voice broke through Hermione’s thoughts momentarily breaking her concentration and bringing it back to the Gryffindor table. Shaking her head, she looked back of Severus as he sat at the Head Table.

“Well, Muggle born or not, you can’t miss that long greasy hair,” Ginny shot out breaking her previous silence as she was drawn into the boys’ line of thinking.

“And that beak of a nose,” Ron laughed loudly.

“You don’t think someone would willingly do... that… with him . Do you?” Harry looked at Ron to see him screwing up his face as his voice trailed off unable to even state what he was thinking.

Hermione ignored the discussion between Harry, Ron, and Ginny as she looked up at Severus. Noting her distance, Ron dropped his voice and leaned against her, his lips a hair’s breadth from her ear. “So, would you, Hermione?”

“Would I what, Ron?”

“You know –” he waggled his eyes at her suggestively as he ran a long finger slowly up her arm, “– with Snape?”

“Oh really, Ron, could you please try to act more your age instead of the number of chicken legs you intend on eating tonight.”

“But, Hermione, if you really wanted to insult my brother you shouldn’t go with such a high number. I mean honestly,” she playfully slapped away Ron’s hand as went to gently punch her arm, “Ron has been known to eat as many as ten chicken legs in one sitting. Now brussel sprouts. Sprouts would be a much better choice.”

“Gi-in!” Ron pleaded for her to stop.

“Yes, Ron? What is your record on those?” She paused for a moment, but finally burst out laughing, “Five?”

“Ouch. That one had to hurt,” Harry laughed along with Ginny as he saw Hermione finally smile. Looking over at Ron’s blushing face he realized that he actually felt slightly guilty in sharing Ginny’s teasing. “Don’t worry, Ron. I seriously doubt it was fatal blow to your ego.”

Shaking her head in exasperation at her friends, Hermione quickly turned her attention back to the dais and the boy seated there. “Who are you?” she whispered softly.

McGonagall reached out to pick the Sorting Hat up off the stool as it began to squirm and move away from her. Dropping her hand, she watched as the battered patches moved and the Sorting Hat began to speak from the long tear along the Hat’s brim,

It’s odd I know to see me here
Without some trembling students.
For only one you just may think
My presence isn’t prudent.
But let me now inform you all,
The future can insist
And what was settled in the past
Can quickly be dismissed.
So, send this young man here to me
And seat him on this stool,
My tattered self will tell you
Where he’ll be within the school.
Now don’t be scared or balk at me
You know I speak the truth
For you are now more than before
A point that needs no proof.

As usual, the Great Hall erupted in clapping at the end of the Sorting Hat’s Song. But at the Gryffindor table the four friends were engaged in an awkward exchange that left Ron shaking his head disgustedly as he looked over at Hermione. “Do you think that the Hat might try to switch him?”

“Shut up, Ron.”

“But, `Mione…”

“No but `Mione, Ron. I want to hear what the Sorting Hat says.”

“You never hear anything the Hat says and you know it. I’m sure Hogwart’s, A History has a whole chapter on the origins and workings of the Sorting Hat.” He smirked as he looked at the rapt attention she paid to the dais as she tried to figure out what it was saying.

Ron sat watching Hermione, trying to determine what had changed her playful attitude so quickly. Just this morning she had seemed so happy as they sat beside the lake. She was softly nestled in his warm embrace as her small fingers gently tracing the line of jaw before tenderly kissing him. Then it struck him, Mr. Snape. That was the something that was different. He looked at her face, jealous of the rapt attention she paid to the dais. Swallowing around the unusual tightness in his throat, he followed her gaze, and found himself looking not just at the front of the Hall, but directly focusing on Snape’s dark head.

Ignorant of Ron’s observation, Hermione swallowing reflexively as she remembered the feel of Sebastian Snape’s warm calloused hand on her arm and the way his tall body stood over her as she watched his lithe body shift on the tall stool.

Severus Sebastian Snape was not going to meet his fate like some common cringing criminal. Raising his head high, he sat still challenging anyone in the room to question his right to be there. Feeling an intense draw to the center of the room, he gasped as his bottomless black eyes locked with Hermione’s warm chocolate eyes. The feel of her gaze gave him a courage that was not based on arrogance, anger, or despair. Severus was so caught off guard by her penetrating gaze that he felt his breath quicken alarmingly as McGonagall walked near him with the old battered and worn Hat in her hands.

Now was his chance. He knew that he needed to find out who he was and what his connection was to the girl named Hermione Granger. Severus was determined to find out the secrets the Sorting Hat would reveal to him. Closing his eyes hard, he concentrated on opening his mind to the Hat and blocking out Hermione’s sympathetic eyes.

He felt McGonagall gently place the Sorting Hat on top of his head and felt a strange kind of warmth radiate out of him as the Hat began to wriggle further down his forehead completely, covering his eyes.

The room went deathly silent as McGonagall stepped back. Everyone watched in silent fascination as the Hat continued to settle itself against Severus’ head.

McGonagall glanced over at Dumbledore who sat almost as tensely as Severus, but his demeanor was a portrait of pensiveness as he sat reading all the nuances of the Hat’s gestures as it worked to determine where Severus would be placed.

Severus had never felt more alone and exposed in his life. He knew that no one would hear the conversation between himself and the Sorting Hat, but that did nothing to calm the riot of emotions that rocked his well schooled temper. He remembered when he had been first Sorted six years ago. He didn’t remember it feeling like this. He knew what he wanted then. He wanted what his father had always told him to want. There had really been no choice for him. If he was Sorted as anything other than Slytherin he wouldn’t want to go home – ever. It had gone so quickly the first time. The Hat had barely touched his head when he felt it shimmy back to McGonagall’s retreating hand before loudly proclaiming the single word that had meant so much to him – “Slytherin.” But this time everything was different. Being Sorted again left him wondering where he would be placed. Would being moved to a new house really redefine him? Could he have changed so much in six short years? He felt like he was on trial. Everything he felt, everything he thought, everything that defined him was open to the Sorting Hat’s scrutiny and judgment. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was both right and wrong at the same time.

With all these thoughts running through his mind, he couldn’t wait to find out what was being decided. What was taking so long? Why the delay? “Come on Hat, tell me where I belong,” he urged the Sorting Hat on. Severus smiled in anticipation as he immediately felt the Sorting Hat wriggle still deeper against his head. Suddenly he felt exposed, almost as if the top of his head had been removed giving the Hat access to his deepest soul. He held his breath as he felt his blood turn to ice.

Although the Hat had no audible voice, he could feel its deep voice speaking inside his mind, “Yes. Now I see you clearly.”

“What do you see Hat?”

“You,” the Hat chuckled back. “Darkness. Loss. Anger. Jealously. Hate. Oh, now here it is. You have a true love of knowledge, but you not quite a Ravenclaw are you? You like to use and gain from what you know, but the love is there just the same. What a surprise, something I would not have expected from you last time. ”

“What is it?” he let out his breath in a loud rush as he thought the words.

“Loyalty.”

A moment later, the Hat’s voice sounded to Severus as if it had cast a Sonorous charm on itself as it began speaking again inside his mind. “Curious. You are much different now than before. You are sure of yourself now. Confident. There’s little fear here, more a resignation to Destiny. Oh don’t mistake me, the fear is still there but you will master it yet. Pride. I see that too. You have a need to prove yourself, to show that all your learning and skill serve a purpose. But then there’s something else here too,” the Hat paused and Severus felt it slightly wriggle up his head, “hum… oh my... yes. Now I see it. That’s it. That’s what I needed. Now I know.”

Almost franticly, Severus gripped the brim of the Hat pulling it further down on his forehead, urging it to reveal more of its secret knowledge of Severus Sebastian Snape. “What, Hat, what do you see? Tell me.”

He felt McGonagall pry his fingers away from the tatted brim of the hat as she cooed, “Gently, Mr. Snape. Gently.”

“You have changed boy. What could have happened to you in such a short time?” Snape felt himself almost snort in laughter as he gently touched his left forearm where the dark mark would be branded in a few weeks when he graduated. The Sorting Hat began to shift itself, wriggling higher up his brow, and cutting off the silent exchange between them leaving Snape feeling more alone than he had all night.

What felt like an eternity to Severus, lasted no more than a few moments for the rest of the Great Hall. The Sorting Hat, having made its decision, severed the connection and began to speak to the room in a voice booming with confidence, “Choosing which House to place a student in is never an easy task, and tonight’s Sorting is a surprise to us all in many ways; for although many people feel they know everything about themselves, we can most often be quite mislead in who we think we are. It is my charge from the distant past to choose where to place the students beneath me, but I never make this decision lightly. What qualities do I expect from those entering a specific house? It differs from student to student, but there is always something hidden, deep inside, that makes one student ideal for the house they are assigned to. And thus, there is really no option as to which House Mr. Snape belongs to.” The Sorting Hat paused, seeming to rethink the decision it had arrived it moments earlier, but Albus smiled as the Sorting Hat winked conspiratorially at him relishing the attention it was receiving. “Mr. Snape is decidedly – Gryffindor!”

The Great Hall was deathly still as the Sorting Hat announced its decision. Soon though, that stillness was shattered by the echo of one long, almost magically loud clap. Stunned, all looked up at the Head Table as Dumbledore continued to clap and breaking the spell that had been cast by the Sorting Hat’s announcement. Soon both professors and students were joining in Dumbledore’s acknowledgement of the Hat’s choice and a loud rumble of applause filled the Great Hall.

At the Slytherin table all was still. Not even the Headmaster’s enthusiastic applause could break them from the spell cast by the Sorting Hat’s announcement. Draco’s shrill voice, once again, spoke for the table, “How could this be? He’s a Snape. All Snapes are Slytherins.”

Feeling the weight of Professor McGonagall’s frown, Draco kicked the legs of the boys nearest him. “Clap loud and look happy. We have to keep the ‘Guardian of All Good Little Gryffindor’s’ happy until we can figure some way around this.” Suddenly, the table’s awkward silence was broken as the sounds of dramatically overacted cheers.

Amidst the applause, Snape gracefully descended from the stool and walked to Dumbledore. “Headmaster, I don’t think that I belong…”

Without giving the young man a chance to finish his thoughts, Dumbledore waved his hand distractedly. “No need to worry about that, Mr. Snape. The Hat has never made a wrong decision. The Gryffindor table awaits you, my boy.” He gestured to the table that sat beneath a row of red and gold banners.

Standing, Dumbledore addressed the Hall, “After all this suspense I find that I am quite peckish. I’m sure that all you young ones are almost withering away from hunger. So, without further ado, tuck in, and enjoy.” With a graceful wave of his hands, plates of delectable food magically appeared on the tables.

Pushing his dark hair back from his face, Snape scanned the long benches as he slowly moved through the room without even hearing Dumbledore speech. Seeing a spot midway along the bench, he purposefully strode toward it. The fact that one Miss Hermione Granger was seated beside that small space did not escape his attention.

Hermione, along with the rest of the Great Hall, watched as Severus moved directly toward her. Acting on pure instinct, she shimmed closer to Ron pushing him further up the long bench to make room for the newest Gryffindor.

“`Mione, whatcha doin’?” Ron’s voice was muffled as he fought to speak around the chicken leg he was inhaling.

“Scoot over will you.” She nudged him again as she looked up locking eyes with Severus as he towered over her. There was a strange feeling of excitement and more than a little bit of nerves that made her continue to push against Ron increasing the gap between herself and Ginny. Suddenly, Hermione felt a nervous laugh bubble up from deep within her as she greeted him with a shy smile of welcome.

Everyone, except Ron, ignored the sumptuous that had appeared before them as they watched the development of a new drama as Hermione shifted Ron along the bench.

Hesitantly, he looked around at the open jaws that greeted him. “May I.” There was no question expressed in his statement. But looking deep into his eyes Hermione saw that it was only her for permission he sought.

“Oh yes. Please do, Mr. Snape.” A slight blush suffused her cheeks as she saw him put his hand out toward her. Taking it in her smaller hand, she immediately felt the return of the electric shock from the hallway.

Ginny leaned over across the empty space and whispered, “Hermione, what’s gotten into you?” Her reward was a quick shove back into her seat so that Severus’ seat was opened again.

“Severus, err, Sebastian Severus Snape. Thank you…”

“Sebastian Severus Snape. Glad you didn’t develop a lisp.” Ron laughed as he reached across the table for a roll.

Hermione watched him wince at the sound of his name. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really. I just prefer my middle name when with friends.”

“Oh. Okay, Severus it is then,” her voice was oddly soft as she nervously tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear, breaking her gaze with him as she gestured toward the open seat beside her. That name… he couldn’t be. I know he looks like Professor Snape, but it just can’t be, she thought looking up to the front dais and seeing the professor’s seat empty. Her jaw fell open as she realized, that was the seat that he had been sitting in when she entered the room.

“Hello. I’m Severus and you are…” he let his silky voice trail off as he bent down to catch her gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Hermione Granger, Head Girl.”

“As if he doesn’t already know who you are, Miss Help-Me-I’m-Falling,” Ron snorted as she introduced them with a swift kick to Ron’s shins.

“This is Ronald Weasley.” She gestured behind her without turning. “On the other side of the table is Harry Potter. And this is Ginny Weasley.”

Ginny put her hand out to shake Severus’ with a wide smile. “I’m that one’s sister.” She pointed toward Ron. “Please don’t think ill manners are a family trait. Some are born with all the brawn and others,” she flipped her long red hair dramatically, “were born with all the brains and beauty.” She laughed as she ducked a flying roll that was catapulted over Severus and Hermione’s heads.

“Your trunk along with your new house things will be brought to the Seventh Year Dormitory after dinner. Ron and Harry will show you to your rooms.” Turning, she looked at Ron with all the authority her position gave her and continued on matter-of-factly, “I trust the boys will show you around Gryffindor Tower safely.”

“You really love the whole Head Girl thing too much, Hermione. I’m sure Sevvie could figure all that out on his own. Right, Sevvie?”

Hearing the open aggression in Ron’s normally placid demeanor set Hermione on the defensive. Although he was often the most easygoing of their group, Ron could, when challenged, become the most deadly. This had surprised many of the people who had originally questioned his position on their House Team. Hermione had seen Ron literally do amazing feats when he had been pushed far enough. Their continual defeat of Malfoy and the Slytherins each year for the Quidditch Cup was due in a large part to Ron’s meticulous planning and observation. Trying to defuse the situation before it escalated, Hermione shot an angry stare at him mouthing his name in a warning, but Severus interrupted her silent exchange.

Severus’ response was icily cold and equally antagonistic, “It is Severus, and information is always helpful. I don’t mind a helping hand, especially when it comes from such a delightful woman. Wouldn’t you agree, Ronald?” He glared at the boy before smiling at Hermione.

Blushing, Hermione tried to move Severus’ attention from herself to the rest of the group. “Umm... Ron is the new Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor and our Keeper. Harry’s our Seeker and Ginny is one of our star Chasers. Do you play?”

Severus dropped his head slightly, knowing that to admit indifference to the game was always the beginning of a hard time at Hogwarts. “Not really. I’m more comfortable working with books.”

Ron leaned across the table and tugged on Harry’s robe. “Sounds like a male version of Hermione to me.”

“RON!”

“Well, you know you can’t fly.” He reached over and took a plate of potatoes from in front of Seamus he as spoke, completely missing Hermione’s obvious embarrassment.

“There’s a difference, Ron, between not liking something and not loving it.” She looked over to Harry and Ginny for support but the pair was suddenly more interested in reaching for the same jug of pumpkin juice. In their hurry to do something other than look at their friends, their hands tangled and knocked over the jug sending a pool of orange liquid flooding across the table.

Quickly pulling his wand from the sleeve of his robe, Severus waved it over the spill. His voice commanded the magic within him to clean the mess before it bled across the table. Everyone watched the masterful way the simple spell was performed. Severus’ ability highlighting the subtle artistry that was magic as the jug first righted itself and the orange stain shrunk before filling the jug in a reverse of its earlier spill.

Reaching over, Ron put his arms around Hermione and pulled her closer to him ignoring the commotion beside him. Sitting with Hermione’s head neatly under his chin, he spoke in a syrupy sweet voice, “Darling, not loving something is Ginny’s flying. You know you can’t even call a broom.” He rubbed her waist possessively as his eyes locked with Severus’. “Don’t you agree, Harry?”

Harry said nothing as he sat with his head close to Ginny’s across the wide table trying to help her control her temper. But Harry’s attempt at post-Weasley Damage Control was not going well as Ginny locked her hostile gaze with her brother’s.

It wasn’t Ginny’s anger that should have warned Ron of the dangerous atmosphere surrounding the Gryffindor table, but rather Severus’ darker gaze. To a wiser man, the look alone would have been warning enough not to press the issue, but Ronald Weasley at this moment was nothing like that wiser man.

Pushing away from him, Hermione shot out indignantly, “I can so fly Ronald Weasley. I just choose to spend my time more productively than zooming around the sky chasing a flying ball.”

“Hermione,” Severus’ spoke her name slowly, almost as if he was savoring the taste of each syllable. “There is much to be said for the use of sport to hone and develop the skills and reflexes that only heighten the body and sharpen the mind,” his calm measured tones were the antithesis of Ron’s faster more impassioned voice.

Ginny covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her laughter, but the gleam in her eyes and the unladylike snort she emitted set a titter running down the length of the Gryffindor bench.

“So, you do play than?” Ron’s surprised tone filled the air in a loud snort.

“Yes. I am a fair enough chaser in a friendly match. Though, I much prefer the challenge of the flight and the danger of the Bludger to the more sedate role of Keeper.”

“Ouch, that one had to hurt.” Ginny sent a smile to Severus in thanks for his subtle compliment. “Score 10 points for the challenger,” she chirped out with a dangerous smile at Ron.

Harry looked abashed at Ginny’s response and tried to send a comforting glance over to Ron.

“Don’t you dare defend him, Harry James Potter. He deserved that and you bloody well know it.”

“Sorry mate,” he sighed resignedly, “you know what your sister’s like when her temper is up. So, you’re on your own with this one.” He leaned across the table and whispered, “I’ve got a date with her tonight. Ouch.” He bent down to rub his shin looking across the table at Ginny’s sweet smile.

Red in the face, Ron let go of Hermione and turned his full attention on Severus.

Feeling him tense and shift his body, Hermione spun around so quickly her long hair was still waving as she stopped to glare at Ron. “Don’t you even think it, Ronald Weasley. I’ll take my own house point if you push this.”

“Hermione, I can take care of myself just fine.” Ron all but shouted at her as he glared at Severus.

“Boys!” she sighed out between gritted teeth. “Harry, help me out will you?”

“If you have a Three-headed dog to get around, an evil wizard trying to take over the world, or an evil headmistress with sadomasochistic tendencies to remove from your school all you have to do is say ‘Hey Harry got a minute?’ But, this one? N. O. No way am I getting involved in this.”

But all further discussion was cut short as Albus cleared his throat loudly before serving himself. Suddenly, the food that had been sitting forgotten on the tables became the most interesting thing in the room. The usually din of dinner conversation drowned out the short melodrama that was playing out at the Gryffindor table.


* * * *


Hermione’s welcome did not go unnoticed by the head table. McGonagall and Dumbledore noticed not only how Hermione and Severus continued to steal glances at each other throughout the meal, but also how Hermione continually shifted nearer to Severus during the meal so that she was now sitting closer to Severus than to Ron. But it wasn’t until Albus watched Hermione attempt to fix the errant stand of hair that continually fell in her face, that his decision about to limit her interaction with Severus was made.

Hermione’s long uncontrollable hair had the annoying habit of dancing before her eyes whenever she looked down. Through the meal she had battled this one lock that insisted being the bane of her evening. Albus’ eyes narrowed each time Hermione touched the lock of hair and noticed how Severus’ fingers twitched as he fought the urge to meet them as they fixed her hair. Finally, Severus could no longer control his hand and his longer tapered fingers collided with her daintier ones as he took the soft lock between his fingers. Gently biting her lower lip, she felt him gently run his fingers over the curling lock before retrieving his wand and whispering a hushed incantation. Swallowing around her beating pulse, she watched as he leaned forward and, with a final word and swish of his wand, tucked the errant lock back into place for her. Looking down, she passed her hand over the lock and gently tugged at it trying to free it. Looking up at Severus, her fell mouth open into an undignified surprised ‘O’ as the lock stayed in place. Hermione’s soft laughter seemed to fill the room as she thanked Severus.

“Minerva, I don’t think Miss Granger should spend too much time with Severus.”

She looked curiously at him over the golden rim of her goblet. “Why? Given the circumstances I must say that I am quite impressed with the way she is handling the situation. She is making Severus feel welcomed into her House. Would you want it otherwise?” She paused and looked at him as Albus played with his long beard where it gathered in his lap.

“You were the one who insisted that he be given another chance. That wherever the Sorting Hat placed him he would be welcomed by that house and not be shunned or ignored. What has changed that opinion, Albus?”

“Look at her, Minerva.” There was no question as to which ‘her’ Albus referred to. But it was the urgency in his tone that shocked her, not his words. Minerva was shaken by this sense of distrust at Hermione’s behavior, especially since Albus had always held her in such high regard.

“Albus, you don’t think?”

“I do. And it will not happen,” he stated in a strangely authoritative voice.

“Albus,” McGonagall replied rather shakily at her friend’s unusual tone and attitude, “he is a student here now.”

“Not for long. His past has done too much good to risk what has happened.”

“He didn’t time travel here. His past is just that. His past. This is his present now. Why not give him the chance to have his youth. Don’t you think he deserves it?”

“This is quite a different position from our earlier conversation, Minerva.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke.

“He just looks so lost,” she spoke softly as she looked out over the crowed hall to Severus’ dark head bobbing as he spoke with Hermione.

“I know,” Albus spoke in the softer, more world-weary voice that he had not used since the Final Battle. Pausing, he looked over and read her open compassion-filled face as she turned to him. “Minerva, do you really think I would deny him the chance to reclaim his innocence? You know me better than that. If I could give him that chance I would, but we must get him back as the Severus we know.”

Reaching down by his plate he picked up one Lemon Sherbet from the small milk white dish that sat by his goblet and offered it to Minerva who shook her head with a sad smile. Grinning at her, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he popped the yellow Lemon Sherbet in his mouth with a child-like smile before rising and walking toward the center of the Hall intent on speaking with Hermione.

“But, Albus,” she paused as he turned to look over at her, “what if he doesn’t want to go back when the time comes?”

“That’s not an option. There are still many things he must accomplish as the man he was,” he said gravely as he pushed his chair back and walked towards Hermione.

He could feel the tension between the three friends as he walked closer to them. “Miss Granger, I need to speak with you before you evening rounds,” he spoke without stopping as he strode past the Gryffindor table.

Shocked by the Headmaster’s sudden appearance and strange tone, Hermione said nothing and only nodded at his retreating back.

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Author's Note

I want to thank undertheunbrella, ancientgirl, spaz141, maria and Sabrina for their wonderful comments on my original version of chapter one. I hope that I have answered some of your questions here, though there are still some left for future chapters. I thought it would be fun to resort Snape so that I could add a little drama to both the story and Severus’ own self discovery. Sorry in advance to anyone who is a big Ron fan. I do love his character, but I felt Severus needed to have a real rival for Hermione and I just can’t see Harry playing that part. Pretty Please with Ice Mice on top don't flame.

If you have read this far please leave a response. Let me know what you thought of the story.

thanks in advance
Susan