Pet Peeve: The HG/SS one-night-stand-results-in-a-child-which-Hermione-runs-off-and-hides-with trope. Without exception, every single fic of this I've seen has the aforementioned plot, with Snape eventually discovering she's pregnant/already had a child, and after some angst and porn, they end up happily together. This bothers me for myriads of reasons, but here's my take on how this could go…
Eleven months, three weeks and twelve days after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione got up at 6am, performed her morning ablutions, twirled her hair up in front of the mirror, and stuck a few chopsticks through it to form a messy bun. She hummed as she waltzed through her house, picking up pieces of her curse-dampening jewellery and putting it on as she made her way to the kitchen.985Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡufAswGkCMm
In the early days after the Battle, she, Ron, and Harry used to meet up at a café nearly every morning before she headed to Hogwarts—since Hermione did go on to finish her seventh year, although as a day student—but they had quit the habit after it became too tedious for the three of them to constantly be deflecting curses, hexes, and irritated, irritating wizards and witches who objected to the muggleborn's fame and sway with the Boy Who Lived.985Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDEbjJBPBNQ
Now they ate in every morning, each taking a turn cooking their favourite breakfasts each day. Ronald had learned to cook rather quickly after the Battle, realising that not pissing off Harry and Hermione was a rather valuable life skill. Even after he had re-joined them in the Forest of Deen on the hunt for the horcruces, they had never quite trusted him again. They had lost all patience for his fits of jealousy and immature insistence on always getting his way. The trio was close—inseparable, really—but now that bond was tempered with maturity and a complete realisation of one another's faults.
It was Hermione's morning to cook. She pulled out her ingredients and started to prepare ingredients, flicking her wand towards the radio, turning it to the Potterwatch station, now renamed Truthwatch and run by Lee Jordan and half of the last four years of Hogwart's alumnus. A song drifted out—anti-war Muggle song called Where Have All the Flowers Gone. Hermione hummed along as she flipped, fried, mixed, and cooked. Within ten minutes the music and smells of cooking rashers of bacon drew Harry and Ron, both sloe-eyed and flushed with sleepiness out of their bedrooms into the kitchen.
"Morning, Hermione." Harry yawned, the first one out. He kissed Hermione's cheek as he passed her and grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and headed for the coffee maker, which had just finished making a pot.
"Morning, Harry." Hermione responded, flipping a pancake with an expert flick of her wrist. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and leaned against the icebox.
"Shall I set the table?" at Hermione's nod, he waved his wand, floating plates, cups, silverware, and napkins to the table. It set itself perfectly, even folding the napkins and tucking the forks inside. Harry smiled, pleased.
"That spell's harder to master than anything we were ever taught at Hogwarts." he observed. "Have you noticed that, Hermione? That the housekeeping charms are actually bloody hard?" Hermione turned away from the stove with her own mug of coffee in hand, head cocked slightly, clearly deep in thought.
"It is rather curious," she mused, "that in both the wizarding and mundane worlds, homemaking is considered to be the women's sphere and those skills aren't usually practiced by men, but on the rare occasion that it is, the men find it to be far harder than their masculine, and thus "real" occupations."
"It's too early for theorising!" Ron wandered out of his bedroom, making a beeline for the coffee pot. He paused only to kiss Hermione's proffered cheek. "Smells great." he commented. "How many hexes in the wards today?" he added, sipping the hot liquid. He had learned quickly and painfully to not gulp freshly made coffee. Cumulatively, he'd probably only suffered two or three weeks of burnt tongue and throat before changing his habits. Hermione shrugged.
"I haven't checked yet." she sighed, adding "I really don't understand why this world hates me." in a soft voice. Harry immediately put down his cup and hugged her firmly.
"Bias and internalised blood purity propaganda, you taught me that, Hermione." Ron said, crossing the room to add himself to her group hug.
"We're wearing them down, Hermione." Harry added. "They can't possibly keep up their biases with you smashing them on a daily basis. Plus, we've got your backs." Hermione sniffled a little.
"If things don't get better soon," Hermione said quite seriously, "I am going to leave the wizarding world. I'll take my A levels and live in the muggle world. It's hardly worth it to me anymore." she sniffled a little. "Magic and the wizarding world was the most amazing, and the worst thing, to ever happen to me."
The trio stood in quiet silence till Hermione yelped and flung herself at the stove, levitating the slightly smoking bacon out of the pan and onto a plate. She turned to them, sheepishly holding platter full of hashbrowns, bacon, and scrambled eggs. "Breakfast, anyone?"
Over the last of the coffee, Harry had an epiphany. "The wizarding world!" he exclaimed. "Let's go clubbing." Hermione and Ron turned to him with identical blank looks.
"I don't mind clubbing, mate," said Ron, "but what do the two have in common?"
"We're stressed from the wizarding world, so we should go relax and have fun clubbing tonight." Harry explained. Hermione brightened.
"That's a wonderful idea, Harry." she said warmly. " Shall we meet up at Tommy's for a pint or three at nine tonight before we head out?"
Harry and Ron acquiesced to the plan, and the three shared a long sigh and stood, facing the wardstone on in the centre of the room and raised their wands to perform their final act before leaving the flat for the day; disabling the hexes, curses, and Howlers that had gotten trapped in their wards overnight. They unravelled the first layer of protective magic, letting one spell at a time get through to be dealt with.
"Hair melting charm, low strength, keyed to Hermione." Ron reported, deconstructing the spell as it came into the room and redirecting the strength behind it to reinforce the wards.
"A confundus charm." said Harry, catching a blue streak of magic that had headed for Hermione, and twirling it around his wand tip. "It appears to be designed to make Hermione oblivious to danger in most forms…including not noticing dangerous spells in her vicinity, and obliviousness to muggle automobiles."
Hermione caught a fast streak of sickly yellow as it streaked towards her. She blinked, then swallowed. "An infertility hex," she said softly, "which makes the uterus literally dissolve. Ron's eyes widened.
"That's a special kind of awful." he said, glaring at the magic Hermione was dispersing from the hex into their wards. She shrugged.
"We've seen lots worse. Anymore coming through?" Harry was spinning a trifecta of curses above his wand, dissolving them in tandem.
"An obliviate generalised towards magical knowledge in general, another hair-melting curse—although this one would cause your hair to melt into a scalding liquid on your body—and the last one looks like a prank spell that would cause you to change colours randomly throughout the day."
Hermione sighed. "All right, then onto Howlers?" Ron unravelled the layer of warding preventing Howlers from entering and allowed the first one to drop through. The piercing voice of the Alcott matriarch—a mildly blood purist, but very anti-Hermione witch—started shouting.
"STUPID MUDBLOOD, HOLDING TWO OF OUR FINEST WIZARDS HOSTAGE TO YOUR EMOTIONS. STEP OUT OF THE WAY FOR A SUITABLE WITCH FOR OUR HEROS. YOU'RE EMBARASSING YOURSELF AND PROVING THAT ALL MUGGLEBORNS ARE GOLDDIGGING HUSSIES!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" she asked, as the Howler dissolved.
"We don't want one of these "suitable" witches." Ron agreed, letting the next Howler come through.
"REALLY? YOU TTHOUGHT THAT I'D HIRE THE SLUT OF GRYFFINDOR?" the next voice accused. It was the head of Research for Saint Mungo's. Hermione had applied two days prior for an internship. Darian o'Malley went on. "LEARN YOUR PLACE, WITCH, OR SHOULD I SAY, LEARN YOUR POSITION. YOU'RE ONLY GOOD FLAT ON YOUR BACK. YOU WON'T BE GOOD FOR ANYTHING AFTER YOUR BELOVED FRIENDS TIRE OF SHARING YOU AROUND."
The red envelope burst into flames. Hermione sighed. "Can we deal with the rest of these later? I'm…late to see my mum this morning." she said, glancing at her watch. Harry and Ron exchanged glances.
"We can take care of the rest of them while you're gone." Ron offered. Hermione shook her head.
"It's not fair to make you deal with my Howlers." she objected. Harry raised an eyebrow and she caved. "Thank you so much." she said sincerely and grabbed her purse, dropping a light kiss on each of them before apparating out.
"I think it's time for us to give an interview." Harry said, serious and slow, clearly hating the idea of telling anything to the Prophet, but realising the necessity of it.
"Didn't do any good last time." Ron pointed out. Another Howler emerged. Harry talked over it while Magdela Jones screeched about Hermione's audacity in poaching her Boy-Who-Lived.
"What are we supposed to do?" Harry shouted over Magdela's ravings. "This can't go on! It's completely unfair to Hermione! We wouldn't even be alive without her, and the entire world refuses to believe that she had a part in Voldemort's defeat beyond screwing both of us to keep our morale up!"
Ron shrugged, letting another Howler through, this time a tirade from the editor of the Daily Prophet who was remonstrating Hermione for her perceived hand in forcing Ron and Harry into a media blackout.
"Might actually be time to leave the wizarding world. All of us." he suggested. "We could start our own paper—everyone would buy it—and we could use it to inform everyone in our own words why we're leaving. It could be kinda like a serial story of what has happened since Voldemort's school days. After enough time I'm sure that it would get through their thick skulls."
Editor McAllister stopped talking, and Fudge's voice started up.
"Merlin's left saggy nut!" Harry swore, "How many more of these? Ugh. Let's talk about it tonight at Tommy's." he shouted over Fudge's vociferous swearing at Hermione for ruining his political career. Ron nodded, and they silently listened to the last three Howlers.
"It could be like, our story." Ron said, blinking slightly hazily at his fourth beer in his hand, vaguely wondering why the cup was swirling.
"And double as a punishment." Harry added, tossing back another vodka shot and washing it down with a gulp of pumpkin juice. "We reefuz…refuse…to be a visible part of the wizarding world until there's proof that their attitudes have changed. We can have a column devoted to telling each and evr'y way how someone in the wizarding werld has harmed us, or just people in general with their perpostrus…perpestuous…preposterous notions of how the world works." Hermione was nodding.
"Is a good idea." she agreed, more downing than sipping her gin. "Where we going to find a printing press? And how do we deliver? We can probably develop a better method of deliv'ry than using owls. Honstely…honestly," she enunciated with far more offended care than Harry or Ron's slurring, "the Daily Prophet must spend half their profits on feeding their owls."
The three turned to one another and said, more-or-less in unison: "Luna."
Two more drinks and a series of glamours later, the trifecta of drunken schemers wandered out of Tommy's and headed towards Knockturn Alley. Far from being the horrifically dangerous place that most of the proper witches and wizards touted it to be, it was far more similar to a hip, edgy hipster area of muggle London, where proprieties were abandoned, and shops catering to most tastes were open. Best of all, there was an international floo in Knockturn Alley, meaning that it was high in traffic from people from around the world. It made it the perfect place to go for anonymous partying, where no one would question unfamiliar looking people as to their origins.
Hermione spun an Accent spell over them, giving them all light German accents. The three were all glamoured to be fair, blond, and blue-eyed, all with sleek long blond hair. Harry and Ron's was pulled back and tied with strip of leather each, while Hermione had twisted hers into an intricate braid that wound around her head and which ended up falling over one shoulder in a cascade of braids and loose hair.
"German triplets cover or are we just all being Germans?" Harry asked, laughing. The triplets cover they had used before with interesting results. There was a superstition—many conflicting ones, actually—regarding magical multiples. Some believed that that twins or triplets had a divided magical core, making each one only as powerful as a half, third, or so on, of a normal wizard or witch. Others though that they were intrinsically linked, and would be incapable of having normal lives apart from one another. They came across a different ridiculous superstition each time they used the charm.
"Triplets." Ron said, "Definitely. It'll be good entertainment." Hermione grinned up at the boys and linked her arms through theirs'.
"Let's go break some hearts." she smirked. Harry pulled out his glamoured wand—his especially was far too recognisable to use without a disguise—and they all apparated to the entrance to Knockturn Alley.
Three clubs later, having been kicked out of one for causing a disturbance when two unruly wizards had taken umbrage with the three refusing to dance with them, and two being not to their musical tastes for the evening, they entered a very dark club with slow, sensual music playing. Hermione perked up immediately. They slinked in and melted onto the dance floor, stopping by the bar to pick up a martini each, dance-walking in unison to the sensuous beat. Almost immediately each of them was approached by someone different wanting to dance.
Ron—who once he had been forcibly divested of his homophobia by Hermione's not so gentle remonstrations, had discovered that he had definite bisexual leanings, although that usually was restricted to some dirty dancing, and rarely manifested for a desire beyond anything other than a heavy makeout session—ended up dancing with a tall, thin mousy-brown haired man. He also had a martini, and sipped from it, pulling Ron into him confidently.
Harry had put down his glass and had both hands on a dark-haired girl's hips. They were both swaying slightly out of synch to the music's main beat, choosing to dance to the off-beat, causing them to look oddly compelling among the other dancers.
Hermione watched the other two with their partners for a moment before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around, and found herself face-to chest with a dark purple-silk covered chest. She raised her face to find herself facing a muscular man with visible, light scars on his tanned, pleasant face, and long brown hair that was in a high ponytail. She smiled, and stepped into his offered arms and started dancing with him.
"I'm Lara." she offered her name in her light accent.
The man's hands slid down to her waist and turned her around another dancing couple. "Peter Halloway." he introduced himself in a vaguely familiar sounding voice, and cupped her face in one hand and bent down, lips stopping an inch from hers. She lifted herself up on tiptoes slightly and kissed him.
Twenty minutes of dancing and increasingly passionate kissing later, he was slipping out of the side door of the club, Hermione trailing after him, hand in his. She tapped Ron and Harry as she passed each of them, adding them to a tracking and safety charm and setting the alert to blue, which was their silent cue for planning to be gone all night. Hermione would have to update the charm twice in the next eight hours or the charm would change to yellow, which indicated something was wrong and would have Harry and Ron both coming after her. They each dropped a kiss on her cheek as she went by, and she followed Peter to the Knockturn Alley apparition point.
"I have a house within apparition distance…" he said. She tilted her head slightly and then shrugged. "All right." she agreed, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and side-along apparated her away.
Hermione recognised their destination immediately; Spinner's End. She and Harry had trailed Snape there one day when they were trying to determine whether to vote for his innocence or guilt in his trial. They had eventually concluded that Snape was, indeed, fully on Dumbledore's side, and he had been exonerated and pardoned. Hermione supposed there were only three or four people in the world who knew what Spinner's End looked like. She blinked up at the glamoured Snape and made her decision.
"What a quaint house, Peter." she smiled up at him. He kissed her upturned face.
"I inherited it from my parents years ago. It's been in my dad's side of the family for generations. It got pretty run down while my dad owned it, but I've restored it, rather well, I think."
He drew his wand—an unfamiliar one, light tan: maple, if Hermione had to guess—and keyed her into the wards before escorting her inside. He hung her coat by the door, then turned to her, suddenly looking very nervous. Hermione wondered if he had ever picked up a girl at a club before and brought her back. She suppressed a lascivious smile at the thought that she was about to fuck her old potions professor, and briefly mourned the fact that even his lovely, shivery, bass voice was glamoured. She still had dreams about the sultry voice.
"Ah, drink?" he offered. Hermione trailed her fingers down from his cheek, down his neck, and across his chest, bringing it to rest on his ribs.
"Maybe later." she returned, and stretched up and kissed him again. "Peter" cupped her face in both hands and kissed her back, a little hesitantly. She ran her tongue across his lips, and they parted. As though that had released something in him, he kissed her back with increasingly courage and passion. They parted, panting for breath, and Hermione blinked at him in lust. Oh, this was much better than her imaginations. She had never wanted a relationship with the man—quite frankly, he was a git with atrocious habits, terrible manners, and was completely unpersonable at best, but this one night, anonymous stand? This was perfect. She rubbed her hands over his chest, stopping to tweak his nipples and watched his eyes flood with want.
"Bed?" he asked hoarsely. Hermione allowed her smirk to steal across her face.
"Now." she agreed, and followed him up the stairs.
Hermione kissed "Peter" long and lingeringly on the front stoop of Spinner's End, feeling rather smug and satiated. They had had slightly awkward sex last night, followed by a few hours of napping snuggles, then pretty darn awesome sex in the wee hours of the morning, followed by sleeping in late, and then some truly mind blowing sex before breakfast. She concluded that she and Snape were very sexually compatible in a nerdy, intellectual kind of way. The spark was there, sure. Chemistry to the max, but they both got more confident with each orgasm, as they learned what made the other tick. Hermione was, in a small little corner of her brain, rather sorry that this would be the only time she would ever sleep with the man.
"That was a lovely night." she told him, pleased to see him smile in return. He caught her hand and kissed it.
"Lara…" he hesitated. "I'm not looking for anything long term. Really, I'm not in a good place right now for…" Hermione smiled up at him.
"Neither am I. Goodbye…Severus." she grinned as his eyes widened in shock and she apparated away as she dropped the glamour, permitting him only to see a flash of her secondary glamour – shorter than she was, and far bustier, with sleek, straight, long brown hair—as she went.
She arrived in her living room laughing hysterically. The boys both looked up from the couch with rather a lot of surprise.
"Care to share the joke?" Ron asked. Hermione smirked and sauntered over. Harry eyed her, now totally glamourless, up and down.
"Oh you got shagged last night." he observed. Hermione's grin widened.
"And I got to pull the best prank of my, or probably anyone's life at the same time." Ron and Harry leaned forward simultaneously.
"Do tell." Ron said. Hermione bounced forward and sat on the coffee table.
"When Peter side-alonged me last night…guess where we ended up." Harry blinked.
"Peter was glamoured, too? Who was he?" Hermione's smile was impossibly evil and self satisfied by this point.
"We arrived at Spinner's End." Ron shot up, a red-haired, one-man rocket.
"What?!" Hermione giggled.
"He never guessed it was me, and he never unglamoured, but it was definitely still his place, and it was definitely him. And –oh! It was such great sex. But…as I left this morning and kissed him goodbye, I said "Goodbye Severus."".
Harry and Ron wore identical disbelieving looks.
"Then I apparated away right as I dropped my primary glamour. He saw the petite, Italian looking glamour that I usually favour." she explained. Harry was laughing helplessly with disbelief.
"It is going to drive the man mad trying to figure out who seduced him." he concluded. Ron had fallen onto the couch, joining their cackling with his amused snickers.
"Serves him right for eight years of misery." Ron decided. "Innocent or not, he's still a git." Hermione nodded, giggling still.
"Brilliant." Harry leaned forward and kissed the tip of Hermione's nose. Hermione tweaked his affectionately.
"Shall we head to my mum's for breakfast?" she asked, referring to their weekly appointment at the Granger house.
Ron sniffed the air. "I think we should all shower first." he observed, wrinkling his nose at the smell of slightly stale alcohol and lingering sex pheromones from Harry and Hermione's trysts the previous night. Ron had headed back slightly early, partnerless, after starting to feel ill from one too many beers, as he preferred to sleep off his drunkenness rather than risk throwing up on a partner—which was another courteous habit hammered into his head by Harry and Hermione.
Harry nodded, stood, and stretched. "Then we have an appointment to talk to Xeno and Luna at five pm tonight, so we can spend as long as we want at Mum and Dad's.
"K." Hermione yawned herself and headed towards her bedroom, which had an attached bathroom. Harry and Ron shared one, having given the "master bedroom" of their large flat to Hermione.
An hour later, at ten am precisely, the three of them locked arms and stepped into a triple apparition, appearing in front of the Grangers' front gate with a quiet crackling sound. The three of them had worked hard on reducing the noise of apparition, as it perturbed them that the most convenient mode of transportation was so noisy, and by tweaking the spell, had managed to get the loud, backfiring noise to be reduced a much quieter cracking sound, more akin to bubble wrap being stepped on.
Helen Granger met them at the door with a wide smile and hugs for each of them.
"Mum!" Hermione smiled and flung herself into her mother's arms. They had a rocky relationship earlier in the year, after Hermione had restored their memories, but many hours of tears and talking later, she had reconciled with her parents, and promised to absolutely never again use magic on them without their permission.
Helen kissed Hermione's cheek and leaned away from her daughter, examining her face. "You look well." she said, "not nearly as tired as last Saturday. Have you had a good week, then?" Harry snorted.
"Good night, more like." he said quietly, but Helen caught it and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't want to hear about it." she told him, a little smile lingering around her lips. He stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
"Hi, mum." he greeted her. Hermione watched them, smiling. Helen and Dan had both grown very close to her boys in the last year, Harry especially as they stepped into a surrogate parental role for the young man. He had delighted in spending time with them, and soaked up their affection and blossomed under it. Helen loved having him hang around the kitchen as he helped her cook, and taught him tricks and recipes. Once he'd shown an interest in her sewing hobby she'd taught him to piece quilt blocks and helped him make a quilt.
Dan took Harry golfing, and kept taking him despite Harry's lack of aptitude for the sport. They still seemed to be entertained by it, and usually went a couple times a month. Ron tagged along with them sometimes, but wasn't as close to Dan and Emma as Harry was, though he did enjoy the family atmosphere that was so much more calm than the one he was raised in.
Dan joined his wife at the door momentarily and twirled his car keys around one finger.
"Hi, honey." he greeted his daughter, pulling her under his arm and stuck his hand out to each of the boys in turn. "Shall we head out?"
They all piled into the Grangers' new, silver Infinity and headed to their preferred diner. Emma twisted around in her seat to face the three young people.
"I have a surprise to tell you all this morning." she announced. Hermione raised her eyebrow.
"Are you moving?"
"Negative." Dan grinned at them in the rear view mirror.
"Quitting dentistry to become an exotic dancer?" Harry guessed.
Emma laughed, rich and long. "Certainly not."
"Starting a massive anti-sugar world wide campaign?" Ron suggested.
Dan shook his head. Emma grinned. "You'll never guess."
"Getting a pet llama?"
"No, I bet she's going to remodel the house with teeth-shaped furniture."
"Going on vacation to the moon!"
"That's impossible, Ron."
"You said muggles had been to the moon!" objected the redhead.
"It's too expensive to send up shuttles often." Hermione explained.
The discussion went on, with the guesses becoming increasingly outrageous until they arrive at the diner and tumbled out of the car. Amy, the cute, highschool aged waitress who worked in the summers showed them to a window booth into which they all slid. Emma fielded their guesses till there was a moment where all three of the youth had a mouthful of coffee at the same time before announcing:
"I'm fifteen weeks pregnant."
The response was hysterical. All three of the kids spat out their coffee, Hermione snorting it painfully through her nose. She stood up, and stared at her mother's stomach.
"Seriously? A baby?" Emma giggled and nodded.
"We always wanted another baby after you, but it just never really seemed like the right time." she explained wistfully. Dan picked up the story.
"You were our 'oops baby'." he explained. "We had you in our first year of dental school. It wasn't feasible to have another baby while in school, then we were busy setting up our own practice, then you were a bit of a handful with all your accidental magic…" Emma picked it back up.
"Once you were in Hogwarts we had to wrap our minds around the idea of magic in general. We were going to try again when you were twelve, but then we started hearing things about that Voldey character and the more we heard, the more we didn't want to risk having another baby that might be magical while that madman was running around."
"One thing led to another, and then we finally decided early this year that we definitely did want another baby, and hang it all, we were going to have one. I think we've learned a lot and this baby will have expert parents, whether it's magical or mundane." Dan finished, smiling at Emma and placing a hand fondly on her as-of-yet-still flat stomach.
Hermione, Ron and Harry were still rather flabbergasted. Harry was the first to react.
"Congratulations!" he exclaimed. Hermione gave herself a mental shake and slid to her mom's side of the booth to hug her.
"Yes, congratulations, mum! I'm so happy for you, but it feels weird! I'm going to be a big sister at twenty years old." She blinked. "Wow. That is odd."
Emma laughed and squeezed Hermione's knee. "Can I count on you for some help around the house? My obstetrician think I'll need to be on partial bed rest once I'm near my third trimester. I'm planning to take maternity leave from the clinic at around seven months pregnant, but I might be mostly off my feet even before then."
"Of course I'll help!" Hermione exclaimed, with Harry and Ron seconding her.
"Anything you need, Miz G," Ron interjected.
Severus Snape was not in a good mood. He was furious, apprehensive, shocked that he was recognised through his glamour, and actually rather curious as to who would shag the dreaded ex-Death Eater Potions Professor even knowing who he was. However, despite scanning his home for traces of the mysterious woman's magical signature, there was nothing; even the area where she had apparated from was devoid of any trace, as if she'd had her signature inverted for the night, a rather risky, but effective short term solution to remain anonymous.
There were a few women he could think of that roughly fit the description of the woman after she disposed of her glamour. Petite, busty, with long, sleek brunette hair; she looked tanned from what he could see of her skin. Possibly Spanish or Italian descent? However, of the witches he knew that fit the description, none behaved oddly when he next saw them, and none had ever shown any interest whatsoever in him.
Eventually, he settled for remaining on an alert when around women of age to be sexually mature and potentially interested in him, keeping an eye out for uncharacteristic behaviour that might tip him off. Severus really didn't appreciate it when someone out manoeuvred him.
After a few weeks of negotiations and talks with Xeno and Luna Lovegood, the trio apprenticed themselves to the Quibbler staff for a few months to get a feel for how the newspaper was run. Xeno graciously gave them the details for where they could purchase a printer and bulk ink, and explained the Ministry laws on distributing information, including information on taxes and how to file.
Luna took Harry and Ron under her wing, as Hermione had the highest aptitude for Xeno's instructions on technical details, and taught them how to write a compelling article. Her methods, while odd, and flavoured strongly with tidbits on how to avoid or attract various of her imaginary creatures that might help or hinder one's flow of creative writing, was highly helpful.
The three of them largely lived off of Harry's inheritance during this time. Ron had quit Auror training just before starting to intern at The Quibbler, while Harry had quit some months before, as he was totally fed up with the hot-then-cold treatment of his fellow trainees and the trainers.
"How do you distribute the paper?" Hermione asked Xeno as she followed him around his office. Xeno smiled and raised a finger to his nose.
"That's been a trade secret for years. My wife invented the method." he confided.
"But you don't use owls." she observed. "So there some kind of automatic charm? Perhaps almost like a portkey?"
Xeno raised an eyebrow. "Not quite."
Hermione gasped. "No, it must be runic! I never would have thought of that. If you made something small, galleon sized, perhaps, and inscribed runes on it that matched a set of runes here at the office, you could automatically distribute the papers as they printed, and they'd appear in the subscribers' homes. Genius!"
Xeno now looked seriously impressed. "That's mostly correct. There's also a potions element, which is partially why no other paper—in Britain, at least—has been able to duplicate our results. I'll turn the research over to you, and if you can figure out how to duplicate it from my Maia's notes, you can use the method."
Hermione grinned and threw her arms around him. "Thank you!"
Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to call their paper the Veritas Times, using the Latin word for truth: Hermione thought that it would give their works more verisimilitude, while Harry liked the ring of the old latin. Ron was mildly miffed that they didn't go with The Chudley Gazette, but Harry and Hermione strictly refused to call their paper after a quidditch team.
Starting three months before their paper was to be released, The Quibbler put a count down timer in each paper they released that showed the time till The Veritas Times' first edition, and offered information for where to send for a subscription. The orders started to flood into their office, which they had set up fairly near Diagon Alley in an old apothecary shop which had gone out of business decades prior. They hooked the floo back up, set to the highest level of security, which required a password to enter, plus identification through the wards, and spelled the location to be Unplottable, put it under a Fidelius charm, and added massive anti apparition and anti portkey wards. It was only possible for Harry, Hermione and Ron to apparate in, and portkeys required the use of a password, which changed weekly. They were taking no chances with their safety.
The subscription orders were actually being funnelled through a remote property that Harry owned in Wales. The wards there stripped incoming letters of all traces of magic, and sent them on via a floo connection. Any mail that posed a danger was held there for the one of the trio to travel there and deal with it personally.
The first month they had five hundred subscriptions. By the second month that had tripled, and by the third month, the second number quadrupled. Hermione did the math and told the boys that over two thirds of the Wizarding British Isles had subscribed to The Veritas Times.
Finally, they released the first edition. The front page was a large editorial by Harry, thanking everyone for their interest, and informing them as to the trio's stepping out of the wizarding world, mainly due to the treatment they had been given. He explained that until things had changed, none of the three would be seen again in the wizarding world. He further explained that steps had been taken to insure their privacy, and any attempts to contact them, other than through the newspaper's official business office, would be utterly ignored.
The rest of the newspaper was a series of articles by Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were starting small, trying to sway peoples' opinions little by little. Harry wrote an article on mob mentality, detailing how people are influenced by their peers to have certain opinions, and cited conflicting articles on Harry's character from The Daily Prophet to illustrate his point.
Ron started a comics page with some familiar newspaper comics, and one that he drew himself, that poked fun at wizarding customs that just don't make sense, and the idiosyncrasies of blood purists.
Hermione didn't officially write an article for the first paper. The trio decided that letting the boys take point at first would make the public more likely to listen to her later, and in the meantime, her editing skills were highly helpful to the boys.
Their main article was the very beginning of the entire debacle: the story of the Deathly Hallows. It traced the Hallows down through the years, pointing out people they thought had used the Elder Wand, and told their readers that the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak had remained in the two family lines. They told the story down the timeline till they ended with the early 1940's, when the last of the Gaunts had the Ring, Grindelwald had the Wand, and Harry's great grandfather, Antonius Potter, had the cloak. As a teaser for next week's Times, they mentioned that Voldemort was the grandson of the last Gaunt who had the resurrection stone.
And then the critical letters—thousands of them—absolutely poured in, and Hermione ended up hiring half of their fellow graduating class to help deal with them.
Helen Granger was actually on partial bedrest by month five of her pregnancy. She cut her hours at the office to only ten a week, and spent most of her time reclining in her comfy old chair, or on the couch. Far from idle, she sorted Hermione's old clothes for gender neutral choices—as the couple had decided to take the opposite approach from their first pregnancy when they had found out Hermione's gender at the first opportunity, and instead wait to find out at birth—and directed Harry as he sewed a baby quilt.
All five of them made lists of names. Dan favoured names that mirrored Hermione's, which was a fairly common name in classical literature and originated in Greek mythology. He was fond of the name Moirae, who was one of the Fates, if it were another girl, or the name Demetrius for a boy.
Helen was favouring names that were slightly more common, citing all the times that Hermione's obscure name had caused trouble in her life, and wanted to name the baby after one of the couples that had been mentors in her life: James Augustus Smith, or Amy Alison Daye.
Ron was rooting for the name of his all time favourite Chudley Cannons chaser: Quentinus Quistoff. When he proposed this, Helen and Dan blinked at him in unison before promising they'd consider it, while both crossed it off their mental lists.
Hermione insisted on decorating the baby's room, and barred Ron especially from helping, as he wanted to paint it red, gold, and orange to honour Gryffindor and the Chudley Cannons. She was certain from the medical diagnostic spells she had learned to perform on Helen that the baby was going to be magical as well. Curious as to why the Grangers' second child would be magical, she did a series of diagnostics on Helen and Dan, only to discover that the two were in possession of inert, but definitely existing magical cores, which was one version of being a Squib. As magic was the dominant gene, and it was essentially a genetic quirk that preventing both Helen and Dan from having active magical cores, it stood to reason that any and all children they might have would be magical.
Hermione according warded the baby's bedroom especially against magical backlashes, in order to protect the mundane home from any accidental magic.
Finally, eight successful, but wildly controversial newspaper releases later, Helen went into labour on the thirtieth of October, at 2am.
"Mother of Jesus, Joseph and Mary!" Dan squeezed his swearing wife's hand as she paced up and down her hospital room through a contraction. "Why the fuck did I think this was a ruddy good idea?" she asked her husband plaintively, who hugged her and kissed the top of her head.
"Almost there." he promised her, intentionally ignoring the fact that she had only been 2cm dilated a half hour earlier upon their arrival in the hospital.
"Those prostaglandins better hurry up and release in higher quantities." Helen panted, leaning on Dan's arm, referring to the hormones that induce cervical dilation and contractions. She made a sharp turn, her long, loose dress in a flowing blue and red pattern that she had picked out specifically to wear in labour swirling around her ankles.
Hermione hurried into the room, her face lightening as she saw her parents.
"Hullo!" she greeted them embracing her parents and dropping an affectionate kiss on each of their cheeks. "Harry and Ron are here, but they're waiting outside. We didn't know if you'd want them in here." she explained. Helen shrugged.
"I really don't mind if they're present." she told Hermione. "Heaven knows more young men should know what labour is like long before they get a young lady knocked up." Hermione laughed.
"I'll go fetch them, then. Would you like me to get you anything from the cafeteria or a vending machine?"
"Oooh, chocolate milk." requested the normally sugar-abstaining dentist with true fervour. Hermione noted it, and left, returning a few minutes later with the sugary beverage and two, very apprehensive young men.
Two hours, and only two centimeters of further dilation later, Hermione got a slightly furtive look on her face and went to sit next to Helen, who looked exhausted as she sipped at her third glass of chocolate milk. Dan was rubbing her shoulders gently, while Harry and Ron were dozing in a corner of the room. Hermione glanced round and leaned in closer to her mother.
"I know a spell that Healers use to speed up dilation and labour." she confided to Helen, who brightened considerable at the news.
"Is it safe?" Dan interjected, and Hermione nodded.
"It's used routinely. Magical births rarely take longer than an hour or two, and that's from checking into the hospital to baby being laid in mom's arms, clean, dry, and clothed. "
Helen's smile was approaching blissful. "I love magic."
When the attending midwife came into the room twenty minutes later, Helen was eight centimetres dilated. The midwife started the birthing pool filling while Hermione surreptitiously cast a Pain Relieving spell Helen's way. The Grangers weren't averse to the use of pharmaceuticals, but in recent years they had become aware that most drugs used to aid labour were actually harmful and often slowed labour and made it more risky, and had opted to go without anything but a localised anaesthesia shot for when active labour commenced to reduce the pain and risk of an episiotomy.
Another intense contraction later, and the midwife helped Dan and Helen settle into the pool. Ron and Harry had been varying shades of green, and ranging from horrified to awe over the last few hours, settled on the other side of the pool from Helen who gave them a permissive nod.
"You can start pushing with the next contraction." the midwife instructed in her calm, low voice. Helen leaned back in the water against Dan, who had both arms wrapped around his wife's middle, holding and gently massaging one of her hands in front of her.
From this point, it barely took any time at all. Hermione shot another pain relieving charm out of the wand hidden in her sleeve just before the baby's head crowned, and then, a long, agonising contraction later, with Helen whimpering softly from the pain of it, the baby was in the midwife's hands as she turned it over and cleaned out its mouth and nose immediately. The infant took a shuddery, long breath, and then began to wail loudly. Harry was visibly tearing, while Ron was sniffling and staring in awe. Hermione was kneeling outside the pond, at her father's shoulder, gazing down at the baby as the midwife laid it in Helen's arms.
"Congratulations on your son." she smiled. The Grangers stared in awe at the tiny boy while the midwife delivered the placenta.
"He's perfect." Hermione breathed, while Dan counted his fingers and toes and Helen kissed his tiny forehead.
Ron and Harry shuffled rather awkwardly over closer to the family and joined the club in eying the baby with awe. Ron leaned over to Harry: "He kinda looks like a monkey, all wrinkly and red." Harry looked horrified, mainly because he half agreed, and elbowed Ron into silence, although the Grangers still heard. Helen started giggling madly.
"Remember," she said to Dan, "that your little brother said the exact same thing the first time he laid eyes on Hermione." Dan chuckled.
"I suppose it's proof that they're siblings." he smiled.
Hermione reached out and petted his head gently. "Looks like his hair is black. And so straight."
"Yours was, too, honey." Helen told her. "It fell out when you were a few weeks old and then grew back in; curly as hell."
The midwife had climbed out of the tub and changed her smock for a dry one. She came to the side of the tub and asked for the baby so she could perform her post-birth health exams on him and put drops in his eyes. Helen reluctantly handed him over, and Dan helped her up out of the tub. A nurse had confirmed that she had no episiotomy tears, so Dan escorted her to the bathroom and helped her dry off and change clothes. Just as he and Hermione settled her into the hospital bed, the midwife brought back the newest Granger.
"Thank you, Emily." Helen murmured to the midwife who picked up a clipboard from the bedside table.
"Do you know what you would like to name him?" she, Emily, asked. Helen looked up at Dan and Hermione.
"None of our previous choices seem to fit." she mused. Hermione traced the baby's facial features with a reverent awe and commented:
"I still rather like Augustus, but maybe for a middle name?" Dan nodded.
"I like that. But we still need a first name."
Ron spoke up: "Remy? Remy Augustus Granger. That seems to fit rather well." Hermione eyed Ron a little dubiously, despite having an instant liking for the suggestion.
"Is that the name of any past, present, or potential future Chudley Cannons players?" Ron yelped and held up his hands.
"Promise. Cross my heart it isn't." Helen resettled the baby in her arms.
"Remy Augustus Granger. I like it. Dan?" her husband sat down next to her on the bed and gently took their son from his wife and gazed down into the tiny, sleepy face and repeated the name.
"Remy. Remy, my son." the baby blinked blue eyes up sleepily, and happy tears sprang to Helen's eyes.
There was rather definitive proof that Remy was a baby wizard when, at twenty months of age his beloved toy teddy bear spontaneously duplicated itself a dozen times in every colour of the rainbow and started to dance around him. Helen and Dan were simultaneously pleased and disappointed by this, as they hadn't decided fully whether or not they would have preferred to have a magical or mundane child. However, recalling the story of Lily and Petunia and how one's lack of magic had caused permanent bad blood between the two sisters—which was the part of the story which was currently featured in the still-ongoing Veritas Times series—they concluded that perhaps it was for the best.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still in self-imposed exile from the wizarding world, although they still spent a fair amount of time in it, glamoured and disguised. It was an ongoing mystery to wizarding Britain as to how the trio managed to write about cutting edge news in the wizarding world when they hadn't been spotted by any wizard or witch—not who reported it to anyone, in any case, since the three were still in contact with their close friends—and yet managed to know the details of the Unspeakable corps scandal better than any Prophet reporter, among many other such similar situations.
Times were changing, although slowly. Between Lee Jordan's Truthwatch radio station and the growing popularity of the Veritas Times, muggle culture was becoming increasingly hip in the wizarding world. Most young people had become aware of current culture, and some even registered in the muggle world and chose to vote for mundane and magical elections.
After a series of articles that compared the horrors of South Africa's Apartheid and Nazi Germany to the blood purists of the modern world, there was a definite decrease in tolerance for the racism and speciesism of the old wizarding families. It was a fact of the times that purebloods were increasingly rare, and the families who clung rigidly to only marrying other purebloods were turning out astronomically higher levels of birth defects, squib births, and lower numbers of births in general.
Hermione posed as a researcher from Sweden and paid Saint Mungo's a visit, where she was granted access to medical and birth files stretching back three hundred years and compiled data for an article in the Veritas Times that definitively showed that there was strong correlation between pureblood standards and a decrease in the size of magical cores, the frequency of magical gifts such as parseltongue and healing, along with an increase in many disorders, ranging from psychological to harmful genetic mutations.
By the time Remy was eight, the trio had started to make rare appearances in the wizarding world. After a change which seemed positive, such as muggleborn hirings at the Ministry increasing, or a Wizengamot ruling that improved the lives of sentient magical beings, they would show up somewhere; generally dropping their glamours long enough to be seen getting icecream at Fortescue's, or visiting the quidditch supply store. The more positive changes, the more often they were seen, although they always vanished before anyone could approach them. Any backsliding in progress would be met with disappearance for months on end.
"It's simple Pavlovian training." Hermione smirked, one evening as they all lay around a board game in Remy's room, celebrating her recent Charms Mastery. She had been studying under Flitwick, Flooing to Hogwarts each morning to work with him and teach his lower classes under a glamour and the pseudonym 'Cassandra August'. Harry's arm was slung over her side as he hugged her close, and Ron occasionally squeezed her hand or dropped a kiss on her curly hair.
"They want you guys to come back, so they unconsciously continue, and increase, the behaviours that cause you to appear in public."
"I'm sure it helps that so many high profile people are progressive in their views, now." Ron added. Now at age 28, Ron had chosen to study for his A-levels, and ended up in a Glasgow University studying engineering. He had discovered that he had a talent for the subject, and upon graduating with a Bachelors in mechanical Engineering, had then studied under a Scottish Enchanter for two years. He was currently working on recreating muggle technology to work with magical means, but still be able to access the muggle world, such as magical computers that could still connect to the internet. Unbeknownst to the wizarding world at large, many of the new "inventions" which were wildly popular were Ron's magical adaptations or creations.
Harry had decided he had enough of death for several lifetimes and was studying Healing in Saint Mungo's. The few people who needed to know his real identify had given unbreakable oaths to not reveal the information, and he was only a year further of study away from being accredited as a Healer.
Their friends in the wizarding world were all doing very well. Ginny was a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and was dating Neville who had just finished his Herbology Mastery project. The twins were still dating Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell: Angelina had gotten a Potions Mastery which was invaluable in for the twins' new prank creations, while Katie was apprenticed to Ollivander, learning wandlore.
Seamus and Dean had gotten a loan from Harry and had bought all the buildings on an entire, dilapidated London street and had warded it similarly to Diagon Alley, making it vanish to the Muggles' perception, and had renamed it Founder's Lane. With the help of several financial backers, including Draco Malfoy who was not nearly as much of a git and a prat as he used to be, they had restored all the old buildings and rented them out to enterprising businesspeople. Seamus personally opened a bar, and lured a muggleborn who was from a legendary Scotch making family into opening a distillery next door. Too long had the people of the wizarding world drank Ogden's Finest - which was not fine at all - and nothing else. The young Alex Sanders was a mad genius when it came to combining magic and alcohol, and his drink popularity was through the roof, as he was literally unable to keep up with the demand, no matter how many times he had expanded his business so far.
Soon, Founder's Lane was absolutely hopping with the new and edgy. Clothing boutiques sprang up, incorporating muggle styles from every time period and fad. An aspiring publisher opened up and with the help of a muggle printing press, began producing books that were far more inexpensive than the parchment-books that the wizarding world had so far relied on, as well as being more durable.
Even Hogwarts began to update, and now accepted paper and pens, as well as making their dress code more liberal, and even had a set of dorms that were separated by age group rather than House, for those who entered the castle and refused to be Sorted.
Everything was going according to their plan. The first snag was hit the summer after Remy's 11'th birthday…
In late July, Remy was seen to throw himself, grinning and shouting "Centerfield!" into the floo. He tumbled out onto Harry, Hermione, and Ron's living room floor, waving a piece of parchment and grinning from ear to ear.
"I have my letter! I have my letter!" he sang and danced around the room, drawing Harry out of his study, and Hermione from the basement where she had been refining a charm she had been inventing. Ron, asleep on the floor, didn't notice his "nephew's" arrival until the boy tripped over him supine form and landed on Ron's back, elbows first.
Hermione smiled and hugged her ecstatic little brother. "That's wonderful, Remy. I was wondering when it would get here. That means…" and she paused dramatically, "that we need to take you school shopping now!" Remy peeled himself away from Hermione and did a happydance across Ron's back, who was not, himself, ecstatic at all about the bruises he would doubtless have in the morning.
Harry yawned and stretched his way off the couch, till he was sitting on the floor. Remy tackled him happily.
"Shall we come back to the wizarding world officially this summer, then?" he asked his two partners. After living together for years, dating and shagging other people, they had finally entered into a three way relationship that leaned towards the polyandrous, since Ron and Harry weren't particularly attracted to one another, although they loved one another dearly. Hermione curled up next to Harry and kissed his cheek, her stomach just barely curved with her and Ron's first child. She wasn't enamoured with the idea of carrying multiple children, although she had consented to have each of their biological child, and then if they wanted more, they were planning to look into hiring a surrogate.
Hermione made a bit of a face. "We haven't started hinting at laws permitting multiple marriages yet, though, and I don't want to come public without also being able to come public about our relationship." she pointed out. Ron rolled over and snuggled with Hermione's legs.
"Yeah, but if we take Remy shopping in mid August, that leave us six editions to start hinting at that." he commented. Harry smirked.
"Plus, by this point, just two or three articles from us that hints that we think it would be a good idea might be enough to get it passed into law by popular vote. I'm sure there still Boy-Who-Lived fangirls who are insane enough to think that I'd marry them who'd be willing to share. If nothing else, they'd vote for it."
"Although, ironically," added Ron, "you'll be doing the opposite and entering into a marriage as one of two husbands to Hermione." he dropped a kiss on her knee as she reached down and played with his, Ron's, hair.
"We'll try it. Next issue is due out in three days," Hermione decided, referring to their new twice-weekly paper distribution, "I can certainly whip up an article pointing out the merits of permitting polyamorous marriages by then, although it would probably be best if Harry was the official author of it." Remy by this time had tired of running and shouting with excitement and could be heard rummaging through their fridge in search of carrot and cheese, his current absolute favourite snack.
"We'll get this passed." Ron assured the other two, closing his eyes and dozing off, head pillowed on one of Hermione's shins.
Severus Snape wasn't just unhappy, he was bloody furious. He'd returned to Hogwarts to teach for a few years, since he felt a need to return to the basics of Potionmaking. Most Potions Masters would take five years or so out of every twenty to teach, finding that doing so often refreshed their creativity and skills, and what had happened? Minerva had instantly attempted to make him Deputy Headmaster, although he'd wiggled out of that one. Aurora Sinistra would make a far better Deputy Head anyhow.
With the explosion of new students in the last several years, there were now multiple teachers, generally speaking, for each subject, with many of the teachers who had Masteries in their subjects having an apprentice who taught the first through third years for them. Severus was teaching the first year, and the N.E.W.T. years, leaving the others to his current apprentice, one of the Avery boys, who showed tremendous aptitude for potionmaking.
He had just settled into his job, second year back of teaching, when a ghost came back to haunt him in the form of a little boy with extremely curly, short hair, big brown eyes, and whipcord smart, who sat in the front row of his potions class and called out "here!" in a clear, childish voice when Severus, in the middle of taking roll, blanched and nearly fainted when he got to "Granger, Remy."
He made it through the class, more surly than usual, although not even close to his spying days levels of vitriol, and stopped Remy on his way out.
"Mister Granger." the boy stopped and turned around.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked respectfully. Severus eyed him, trying to determine if there was sarcasm in that voice. He flashed back to the night the girl who shagged him and left, knowing his identity, without his knowing hers, and felt an awful premonition.
"Are you related to Hermione Granger?" he asked, doing the math and coming up with the child being the exact right age. Remy brightened.
"Yes, professor! She's my.."
"Mother." Severus spat. Remy looked tremendously confused.
"Actually, sir," Severus cut him off.
"Out, now."
"But sir," Remy interjected. Severus loomed over him, as threateningly as he knew how.
"Get. Out."
Remy turned pure white and backed out the door slowly, clearly breaking into a run as soon as he'd cleared the doorframe. Severus shook with rage. It all made sense. He had noticed that he had been followed back to Spinner's End one night. He knew it was Potter and his know-it-all beaver-tooth friend and the Weasley boy. He'd caught a flash of that bright red hair, and seen a glint of moonlight off of glasses. She had known where he lived. She was the only one who would have put the pieces together, and she was the only ex-student of his he knew of who would have been brave enough to fuck the Git of the Dungeons. And now she had kept his son from him. Severus reddened with rage, and stormed out of Hogwarts.
He bided his time, waiting for the first free weekend where parents were encouraged to come pick their children up from the castle from Friday afternoon till Sunday night. Sure enough, loitering around the public floo, he saw a familiar, curly-headed woman step out and look around.
"Remy!" she smiled as the boy hurled himself at her , wrapping his arms around her thick waist. Severus realised with a shock that she was pregnant and his rage deepened. She had gotten knocked up with his child, then married another man to raise the boy? He stormed over and seized her by the upper arm, ignoring her cry of pain, at least until he felt the jab of a wand into his ribs and realised she had frozen him in place with some kind of…paralytic charm. He could still move his head and neck and did so with a vengeance, as he noted with vicious happiness that as she'd paralysed him, she couldn't withdraw her arm from his grip till she'd undone it.
His infuriated gaze met her angry one.
"I will sue for custody of the boy, and no court in the land would deny it to me. You dared keep him from me, you stupid mudblood. He is mine. My son belongs to me. You had no right." he hissed.
Hermione threw back her head and laughed hysterically. Severus growled and waited for the obviously unhinged woman to cease her noisemaking and pay attention to him. Hermione finally wiped away a tear from her eye and wrapped an arm around the confused Remy Granger.
"So you finally did figure out that it was me that night." Severus tried to loom over her threateningly, but failed to move from the magical binding.
"Of course I did, stupid woman. As if you could hide it from me." he obfuscated the fact that he'd only realised a month prior to the current date. "You're not taking Remy this weekend. He remains with me. And his last name will be changed to Snape immediately."
Hermione started cackling again. Snape exploded.
"Would you stop your hysterics, woman?!" Hermione snorted.
"Remy isn't yours, you dumb git. I didn't get pregnant that night, and he isn't my son." She flicked her wand and unbound Severus abruptly. She straightened and stared him in the eye.
"He's my brother. My parents finally decided to have another sprog." Severus turned red again, furious at his humiliation in making the wrong deduction, and the wrong demands, and stormed out, robes billowing. An evil twinkle appeared in Hermione's eye and she cast a surreptitious magic cancelling charm his way, which negated the billowing charm on his robes, and left him a far less intimidating figure. What surprised her was when he shrank fifteen centimetres, leaving him at a measly one metre and fifty-five centimtres, proving that he'd either been under a height glamour, or had magically heightened boot heels.
Cackling hysterically again, Hermione and Remy flooed home.
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