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Hermione should have seen it coming.
To be fair, she didn't remember much about the arrival from her first time around. It faded over the years into more of a collection of remembered emotions, interspersed with precious few bright scenes. And when the arrival time came, deadlines loomed, stealing her focus from everything else. She always felt less like herself in winter, like part of her went to sleep in November and stayed buried until the ground thawed and the first flowers bloomed.
Still. The appearance of Hermione’s five-year-old self in her living room should not have been anything resembling a surprise.
Hermione dropped a thick book, one hand flying to her mouth in shock as a little girl with buck teeth and frizzy hair popped into existence next to the fireplace. A cuddly Kermit doll that had been held and loved until it was threadbare dangled from the girl's hands.
"Who are you?" the younger version of Hermione asked.
Hermione groaned. "I'm you, plus twenty years. I can't believe it's time for this already." Crouching down, she tried for a reassuring smile. "What's the last thing you remember? Getting frustrated because Mum and Dad kept saying they would explain things when you were older? Did you wish you could fast forward to the future, when people would give you straight answers to your questions?"
Younger Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Maybe."
"Well, that was your first big display of accidental magic. Surprise." Hermione did jazz hands. It failed to impress. "You're a witch."
"Witches aren't real."
Hermione did not remember being so difficult. In her time softened memories, magic was a welcome, thrilling new thing.
"Witches are very real, I promise you," Hermione said. "Look around. You were just in this room in 1984, right? It looked a lot different then, didn't it? Back when it was Great Auntie Jean's house, it had different furniture, and the walls were a different colour."
Her younger self scrutinised her surroundings, mouth turned down in a frown as she tried to work out a logical explanation. "It's not Great Auntie Jean's house now?"
"No, it's mine. And you know how Great Auntie Jean calls you Mione? I'm going to call you that while you're here. It'll be less confusing. Maybe. You can call me Hermione."
Mione crossed her arms. "If you're me in the future, then what's the password?"
Finally, something Hermione knew. The password remained the same for as long as she came up to the Lake District to visit Great Auntie Jean and played in the Wendy house in the garden with the neighbour's kids. Kids who were now an estate agent and a nurse.
"Frog," Hermione said. "It's the first word you learnt how to read."
Mione looked marginally less suspicious.
Standing up, Hermione held out a hand. "Come on. We are going to need some help to fix this. I know just the witch."
Tiny, sticky fingers wrapped around Hermione's. Why sticky? Merlin. Kids. Turning on the spot, Hermione focused on the Ministry's atrium.
The instant they landed on the Apparition point, Mione's eyes went wide.
"How did you do that?" she asked.
Hermione winked. "Magic. This way, please."
They made it all of ten steps before Mione stopped, gaping at the people arriving by Floo.
"There are people coming out of the fireplaces," she said, tugging on Hermione's arm.
"So there are. I'll explain it all to you when we’re finished here. I promise."
Hermione managed to corral Mione into the lift and to the Department of Mysteries. A welcome wizard told them it would be just a moment when Hermione stammered and said, "Err, I suppose I need to speak to Seren Snape, please."
She didn't know how the meeting with Snape happened, only that it did. Snape worked in the Time Chamber now.
It was far more than just a moment. It was long enough for Mione to get bored and antsy and start peppering the welcome wizard with questions about magic. Finally, a door opened, and Snape entered.
Snape had let her hair grow since the war. It flowed down her back, past her waist, a few white hairs threading through the black. Hermione's mouth suddenly felt dry.
For years after starting Hogwarts, Hermione had thought her Potions professor had a relative whose Welsh accent was far more pronounced, who worked as an Unspeakable and liked ginger newts with her tea. After a while, Hermione had decided she must have misremembered Seren's surname. It wasn't until Snape had come out as trans after the war that everything had clicked into place and made sense.
Hermione still struggled to imagine the witch who had taught her Potions for years ever being kind to Hermione's five-year-old self. And yet, Snape had contributed to some of Hermione's warmest early memories of magic. Knowing Snape, she'd probably done it because she knew Harry and Ron would never, ever believe Hermione.
"Granger," Snape said. Raising an eyebrow, she looked down at the younger version. "And…is this a mini Granger?"
"Yeah," Hermione said. "This is Mione. She's, err. Me."
"Ah."
❄️
Snape sat at Hermione's kitchen table, performing arithmantic calculations and occasionally casting diagnostic charms on Mione. A charmed spoon stirred a cup of tea at her elbow. Hermione sat a tin of ginger newts in the centre of the table.
Mint chocolate chip ice cream dripped off of Mione's spoon and onto the picture she was drawing. No tea and biscuits for her, thank you very much. Mione didn't care if it was snowing; ice cream was an all weather food.
Hermione scooped ice cream into a bowl for herself. Some things hadn't changed.
"It's an ice cream parlour," Mione said, scribbling a green crayon over a smiling face. "The waiters are frogs. Magical frogs. Would that work? Could you make frogs into waiters with a spell?"
Snape nodded. "When one considers the parade of dunderheads who will teach you Defence, frogs as waiters seem sensible in comparison."
Taking a bite of deliciously minty ice cream, Hermione leant against the kitchen worktop. "I wouldn't call them all dunderheads," she said. "But you should definitely watch out for that Defence teacher in sixth year."
Snape's mouth twitched, almost like the prelude to a smile. "If only I could give my past self a similar warning about certain students."
Hermione feigned an offended expression. "I'm shocked. You think you could adequately warn her about me?"
The sound of Mione's chair scraping against the floorboards drowned out Snape's chuckle. Leaping up from the table, Mione crossed to Snape's side.
"Can I play with your hair?" Mione asked.
"That depends," Snape said, helping herself to a biscuit. "Have you washed your hands, mini Granger?"
"Smart woman," Hermione said under her breath.
Snape's mouth twitched again, this time tipping up into a half smile.
As Mione tore through the room towards the sink, Crooks stretched his legs out of his basket and yawned. Mione froze, her eyes going wide.
"I have a cat in the future?" she asked.
Without waiting for an answer, she dropped down next to Crooks' basket. He blinked up at her. Mione pressed their foreheads together and stroked his cheeks.
"I. Love. Him."
Crooks licked her nose.
This, Hermione remembered. Finding Crookshanks in Magical Menagerie years later had felt like a reunion. He'd licked her nose then, too.
A knock on the door jolted Hermione out of reminiscing. Luna stood on the front step, snow dusted and smiling. Pandora—Luna and Ginny's daughter—held her hand.
"Hi Hermione," Luna said when Hermione let them in. "Ooh, and hello Seren and younger Hermione."
Of course Luna recognised her. Grinning, Hermione made the official introductions.
"How nice that I get to meet you for the first time all over again, Mione," Luna said, solemnly shaking Mione's hand. The stickiness didn't seem to bother her. "I was just stopping by to drop off Hermione's gift, but I'm sorry I don't have one for you. I didn't realise you would be here. Hmm. Is there anything you would like? Something I can make with magic?"
Mione squinted at Luna's bright red and yellow robes. "Can you make my dress look like the one in Sleeping Beauty?"
Hermione had to explain the reference. She and Luna stood on opposite sides of Mione, each firing a colour changing spell at the dress. Their magic battled on the fabric, shifting it from pink to blue over and over again.
Mione twirled. "Thank you!"
Joining in with Mione's spins, Pandora giggled. "Can we go play?"
With a nod from Luna, the two girls ran outside, hand in hand. Crooks followed along behind them like a chaperone. Watching from the back window, Hermione placed a hand over her heart. Her younger self climbed a tree, knocking snow from the branches. Pandora's laughter rang out as Mione leapt from the tree.
Hermione couldn't remember what it was like to be that fearless. She remembered Pandora, though: a smiling girl with strawberry blonde hair who was her best friend for an afternoon. The two girls raced around the tree, taking turns to demonstrate their very best attempt at a cartwheel.
Years ago, holding the soft, sleepy bundle of newborn baby that Ginny passed into Hermione's arms, Hermione had loved Pandora instantly. She hadn't known, then, that it was another reunion.
Luna left them with a promise to retrieve her daughter before dinnertime. Hermione and Snape fell into an easy silence, each working on their own projects. The furrow between Snape's eyebrows grew deeper with each calculation.
"Why don't we take a walk?" Hermione asked. "You've been working on that for hours. You should probably take a break. I should as well, I suppose."
Another one of those almost smiles teased at Snape's mouth. "I have never found breaks to be entirely necessary."
"No, nor me, but I remember us going on a walk with Pandora, so I guess we give it a go, anyway."
Bundled up against the cold and trailing two excitable girls, Snape and Hermione started off down the narrow lane towards the village. Snow continued to fall as the sky grew darker. Even after so many years living this far north, winter sunsets still had a way of sneaking up on Hermione.
"How much do you remember from all of this?" Snape asked.
Hermione watched her breath form a cloud as she sighed. "Bits and pieces. I remember magic, mostly. When Minerva showed up with my Hogwarts letter, I practically knocked her over in my rush to grab it."
A scarf hid Snape's mouth from view, but Hermione could hear the smile in her voice. "I was much the same when my own letter arrived. I'm not certain the owl ever recovered from my enthusiasm."
"And I remember you."
"Ah. How unfortunate for you."
Hermione laughed. "I remembered you fondly, actually."
"I cannot imagine why."
A patch of ice sent Hermione skidding. Snape reached out a steadying hand, grabbing Hermione's arm and helping her stay upright. Her touch lingered there for a moment after Hermione regained her footing.
"Well," Hermione said, "I'm not going to tell you why my memories of you were positive."
"Are you not?"
Another slick patch of road made them both wobble. This time, when Snape took Hermione's hand, she didn't let go. Thick gloves covered both of their hands, but Hermione thought she could feel the warmth of Snape's skin through them—as warm as those early memories of magic that she carried around for years.
"Nope. You'll just have to wait and find out for yourself."
❄️
Hermione combed her fingers through Mione’s bath-fresh curls, twisting the hair into two plaits. Mione helped herself to some of the peppermint scented lotion on the bedside table, slathering it generously over her arms.
“I can’t wait until I’m you,” Mione said.
Hermione paused mid-plait. “Really?”
“Yeah. You can stay up reading as late as you want, and you can have ice cream for breakfast, and no one tells you what to do, and you have a cat.”
“You’re very focused on that cat thing, aren’t you?”
“He’s lovely.” Mione nodded.
Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell Mione that plenty of people felt capable of ordering her around, and she still felt like a little kid sometimes. It was as though everyone else had been handed out Life Scripts. They all knew what they were doing, while Hermione muddled along and worried about whether she was wasting her potential.
It was surreal, kissing her younger self’s forehead and tucking her into bed. Mione snuggled beneath the duvet and hugged her Kermit doll. Hermione remembered feeling safe and warm in her older self’s big bed.
When Hermione returned to the kitchen after putting Mione to bed, she found Snape still hunched over her calculations.
“You all right?” Hermione asked.
Snape started. “Oh. I apologise. I got lost in my work and didn’t notice the time.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth, watching Snape prepare to leave. “Do you want another cup of tea before you go?”
“I’ve imposed on your time far too long as it is.”
Hermione laughed. “Don’t you mean I’ve imposed on yours? I’m the reason you look like you have a headache.”
Another almost-smile twitched the corners of Snape’s mouth. “There’s a joke in there somewhere about how many headaches you gave me in the past.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
As if to settle the matter of whether tea would be had, Hermione put the kettle on. Snape stood near her, arms crossed, like she was unsure whether to sit back down at the table.
“I can’t get over how thrilled Mione is at how my life has turned out,” Hermione said. “I suppose her standards aren’t that high, though. I have a cat, so I’m living my best life.”
“Hmm.” Snape tried out leaning against the kitchen worktop, arms still crossed. “I imagine my five-year-old self would be elated to see me working in a magical profession of any sort.”
Hermione stood on her tiptoes to retrieve a pair of mugs, adding a teabag to each of them. “Yeah, that makes sense. You’re all mysterious and cool, working in the Department of Mysteries. Mione is fascinated with you. So was I–for years. Would your five-year-old self be elated if you were still teaching at Hogwarts? That’s a magical profession.”
“Perhaps. I had not yet been exposed to students at that age.”
“Fair.” Hermione laughed. “I think the only way Mione could be happier with me was if I had opened that magical frog waiter restaurant. My teenage self, though…Equal parts bitterly disappointed I’m not already Minister for Magic and relieved I made it through the war alive.”
“Wait. Granger. Please tell me that multiple versions of you haven’t travelled into the future.”
Hermione’s fingertips brushed Snape’s as she passed her a mug of strong tea with a dash of milk. “And ruin the surprise for you? I wouldn’t dream of it.”
❄️
"I want to learn magic now," Mione said. "Can't you cast a spell to make me a grownup so I can have a wand?"
Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose. She could use a silencing charm to block the chatter from the kitchen. It would make it easier to focus on her work, but she wanted to keep eavesdropping. There was so much she had forgot over the years.
"No, I absolutely cannot do that," Snape said. "I won't condescend to you by saying you should enjoy being a child while you can. However, I assure you, you will be forced to grow up long before you should."
Setting her quill down, Hermione wrapped her hands around her cold mug of coffee. A silent spell—easy and automatic—rewarmed it.
She hadn't appreciated Snape's comment about being forced to grow up the first time around. Now, it made her close her eyes and long to create a paradox by keeping Mione here with her. She wanted to wrap her younger self in cotton wool and keep her safe from Dark Lords and blood prejudice and the horrors of war.
Snape knew all about growing up too soon. She had become a spy when she was barely out of Hogwarts. Something in Hermione ached to bring that younger Seren here, too. Hermione Granger's Home For Time Travelling Girls.
Hermione smiled to herself. Somehow, she didn't think the younger Snape would be so enchanted with that concept. She could imagine their conversation.
"I brought you here to keep you safe."
"And who will keep you safe if you do not move out of my way?"
"What does condescend mean?" Mione asked, bringing Hermione's thoughts back to reality.
"It means to behave as if you think you are better or more intelligent than others," Snape said. "It's what Malfoys do. You will get that joke as soon as you meet one of them."
Hermione cackled.
The rewarmed coffee tasted bitter, but it heated her chilly hands as she snuggled deeper into the sofa and kept listening.
"Why can’t we do this at your work?" Mione asked. "I want to see the people coming out of the fireplaces again."
"Because, mini Granger, I work in a department full of highly restricted information, and I am far too familiar with your talent for memorisation to allow you anywhere near it. Stand up, please. I need to cast a charm on you."
Leaning over the arm of the sofa, Hermione watched Snape's spellwork. Golden light streamed from her wand, wrapping around Mione. Hermione remembered being cocooned in that glow, feeling as if she had fallen into one of her favourite fairy tales.
"There," Snape said. "We should be able to send you home in precisely two days."
"Two days?" Mione said, and Hermione could still feel the echo of the way her stomach sank. "Can't I at least stay until after Christmas?"
Standing up, Hermione walked into the kitchen. "We could have an early Christmas tomorrow, if you want, Mione," she said. "Seren, would you like to join us?"
Luna got away with using Snape's first name, so Hermione decided to try it out. She had known Snape far longer, after all. The only reaction it got was a slight raise of Snape's—Seren's— eyebrows.
"Very well," Seren said.
❄️
Mione wore her Sleeping Beauty dress for their premature Christmas. It was the third day in a row that the dress made an appearance. Thank Merlin for cleaning charms. Everyone had to wear a paper Christmas cracker crown, according to Mione. Including Crooks, who treated the entire exercise with the sort of resigned acceptance of a cat who had been forced to dress up for multiple Halloweens. They all lounged on Hermione's sofa, sleepy and full of turkey.
"Did you get me a present?" Mione asked, smiling imploringly at Seren.
"Mione!" Hermione said. "You can't just ask someone if they got you a gift. I'm half tempted to tell Mum on you."
Mione scoffed. "Go ahead, if you want to get yourself in trouble."
"She has a point," Seren said. "And no, mini Granger, I did not. You cannot take anything with you when you return to your time."
Mione's eyes went wide. "Not even my Sleeping Beauty dress?"
"Not even that," Hermione said. "That's why I gave you chocolate."
"The dress will need to be returned to normal," Seren said. "And stop pouting. I taught children for nearly twenty years. I'm immune to it."
Heaving a dramatic sigh, Mione slumped onto the sofa. Hermione attempted a comforting pat of her younger self's arm.
Again, Hermione should have seen it coming. It should not have been anything resembling a surprise when a whispered spell from Snape made thorny vines climb up the walls, like her cottage had transformed into Sleeping Beauty's castle. And yet, her stomach swooped as brightly coloured flowers bloomed overhead, as if she was seeing it all for the first time. As if the astonishing joy of it hadn't stayed with her for decades.
"Oooh!" Mione said. "It's so pretty."
Honestly, it was no wonder it took Hermione so long to connect the dots between her harshest teacher and Seren.
Later, after the mince pies were reduced to crumbs and mulled wine stained both Hermione and Seren's lips, Mione fell asleep on the sofa beneath that canopy of vines and flowers. Hermione carried her to bed and tucked her in with her Kermit doll for the last time.
"I've been waiting for years to ask why you did that," Hermione said upon returning to the living room. She sat down on the sofa, resting her hand close to Seren's on the cushion. Their little fingers almost touched.
"In all honesty, I did it because I was wondering what you could have possibly meant when you said you had fond memories of me," Seren said. With a smirk, she added, "And the idea of you attempting to convince Potter and Weasley that it actually happened amused me."
Hermione laughed. "I knew it. God, can you imagine their reactions?"
"You never told them?"
"Nope. Never. I wanted to keep it all for myself. It felt more magical that way."
"Hmm." Seren's finger brushed Hermione's. "I am almost disappointed."
"Oh, I could Floo call the boys, if you want to see it for yourself. One minute; I'll just invite them over."
Seren caught Hermione's elbow, tugging Hermione back down as she started to stand. Hermione landed closer to Seren.
"If you do that, I shall have to revert to insults and sarcasm," Seren said. "I have a reputation to maintain."
Seren scowled so impressively that Hermione had to do it. Leaning forwards, she kissed Seren's cheek. Maybe it was the fault of the flowers, tricking Hermione and making her think the healing thaw of spring had arrived early. It was easier to be brave in spring.
Maybe the flowers tricked Seren, too. That scowl of hers melted away, replaced by an expression of surprise that made Hermione's belly give another swoop.
It was a little like flying—weightless and breathless—to gather up all of that false spring bravery and touch her mouth to Seren's. Seren's lips moved against Hermione's.
"Did you only kiss me back to keep me from inviting Harry and Ron over?" Hermione asked.
Seren chuckled. "No. That is merely an added benefit."
Resting her head on Seren's shoulder, Hermione stared up at the flowers. Seren's arm wrapped around her, holding her close.
"Maybe I'll make the flowers a permanent fixture," Hermione said. "You'll need to come over to renew the charm, of course."
"You are more than capable of casting it yourself," Seren said.
Hermione shook her head, Seren's soft jumper rubbing against her cheek. "It wouldn't be the same. You'll just have to keep visiting."
She didn't have to look up at Seren's face to see the smile there.
"Very well."