Chapter Text
She wasn’t the little girl she had been ten years earlier. No, she wasn’t. The war had changed her; it had changed everyone. A decade had passed since she watched the battle take place before her. Injured dropping around her, the dead climbing to insurmountable numbers. Their bodies were in piles, blood staining the concrete at the steps of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her best friends were alive and well to that day, but were they really the same they had been when they left?
“Hermione.”
The woman woke with a jolt, drops of sweat flying off of her face as she sat up in bed. As a reflex, she quickly withdrew the wand beneath her pillow and turned on the lights in the bedroom of her London flat.
“Hello?” She called out, her heart pounding at the base of her throat. Checking the wards on the flat, she found that they were intact. Frustrated, the witch groaned and flung the covers off of her. She spun to sit with her feet on the hardwood floor, cold and solid beneath her.
Hermione pushed herself up and shuffled into the kitchen to start the kettle. Checking the time on the muggle clock affixed to the brick wall above the small cafe table and chairs that served as a catchall, she saw that it was nearly one in the morning. The witch rarely ever ate at the table and chairs, but it was a place in which important documents and bills sat. Her work at the Ministry of Magic often required her to bring some things home. As she waved her hand over the screaming kettle, Hermione hummed and rubbed her face. The kettle poured piping hot water into the cup the witch had pulled from a nearby cabinet, the clear liquid darkening. Absentmindedly, she twirled her finger as sugar and a splash of milk were mixed into her tea.
Pushing open the doors to her terrace, the witch pulled the fleece robe tighter around her body, the fall air crisp as she exhaled. Staring upwards, a bright, sparkling full moon glared back at the witch. It was also looking directly at someone else hundreds of miles away.
Severus Snape lifted his gaze from the busy parchment beneath his nose only to realize that a full moon was perched in the night sky.
“Gods!” He exclaimed, groaning as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. He had been working for hours, his neck aching from being forced into one position for so long. Why had he taken the headmaster position those years earlier? The last nine years had gone by so quickly; his first year after the war ended was a blur. Severus had spent most of it in St. Mungo’s, healing.
He stood from the monstrous desk in the large oval office, gathering his robes as he unlatched the tall glass doors to step out onto the terrace. The cool Scotland air breezed through his robes and he placed both hands on the stone railing. Just as he began to turn back around to step inside, Severus came to a sharp halt.
“Severus.”
He flipped around, his raven hair floating around him. “Who’s there?” He called, withdrawing his wand. He had expected a woman to be standing before him, as the voice who uttered his name was soft, the ripple of strings on a harp.
There was no answer.
“Show yourself.” He performed a revealing charm, the blue smoke dissolving quickly in front of him. His nostrils flared, his jaw jutted outward. Who was calling his name?
Storming back inside, he slammed the doors behind him with the flick of his wrist. Returning to his work, the wizard couldn’t help but think the voice had sounded familiar to him.