Chapter Text
Hermione’s cheek rubbed on the warm wool as they rocked. The warmth felt unreal after the cold stone floors of Hogwarts, after the chill of death she still half expected to find clinging to her skin. Severus was swaying side to side, humming gently under his breath. He’d wrapped them in a notice-me-not and muffling charm when they’d sat down to wait. Hermione was glad of it, so she could cry in peace.
Her thoughts were in turmoil. In her mind, she was still at Hogwarts, fighting for her life. She was sure she could still smell the smoke and ozone. Or was it still in that bright place with the woman's soft voice? The place that felt like a warm bath or being snuggled under a cosy blanket.
But no, that wasn’t right. She was small, wrapped in the arms of a much younger and more alive Severus Snape than she had known only hours ago. She was in a place that seemed familiar yet completely different. They were in the Ministry, where everything seemed too bright and was going too fast. Less fast than the battle, with its flashing spells and screams. Gods, the screaming. An overwhelmed chill made her shiver at the memory. A warming charm trickled over her in response. Severus’ magic kept out the clacking of typewriters and the drone of voices while she tried to keep herself calm. When she started crying, he hummed a lullaby to her. She didn’t recognise it, but the warm rumble of his voice soothed her.
“Snape,” a sharp voice broke through their bubble.
Severus stood and used his hand, curled around her head, to shield her face in the crook of his neck as he strode to the counter. A man with spectacles and sleeve garters didn’t look at them as he told Severus to take hold of an old beer bottle.
“Might want to secure the Miss with a sticking charm if she ain't gonna touch it.”
Severus waved his wand, sticking Hermione to him, but brought the bottle close for her to grab the neck of it as well. Her hand was absurdly small around the dark brown glass. Severus's long fingers covered hers, holding on as well.
“Right then, count of three flashes then Bob's yer uncle.”
The bottle flashed once, twice, Severus squeezed her closer, flashed again, and they were gone. The portkey’s magic snapped cold around her, but Severus’ arms stayed warm, the only steady thing in the lurching world.
OOO
Severus had come before her. He’d made plans and been ready when she arrived. His quest was different from hers, granted for a different reason. She hadn’t been allowed to ask questions outside what was tasked of her, so she didn’t know much about his time before she came. The portkey was one of the things he had ready for when she arrived.
They landed in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic in front of a counter similar to the one they’d just left. The office was smaller than the one in London, but the man behind the counter was eerily similar. He was gruff as he explained to Severus, in broken English, how to reach the ministry's main entrance.
The woman behind the desk in the ministry's main lobby produced a pamphlet that opened wider and wider. She pointed out maps and departments to contact for different things. Severus nodded along and gratefully took the paper after it was folded back up. All the while she scanned their surroundings, remembering her last desperate flight from a ministry. Every Auror made her breath catch, every dark cloak an enemy.
At the floo, Severus paid for a handful of powder and called out a practised floo address in a language she didn’t know. Another location change where she had to trust that he knew what he was doing and would keep her safe. With a whoosh, they were gone, tumbling through space again.
Severus didn’t so much as even stumble out of the floo. A tall, dark-haired woman, a burly man, and a small, skinny boy met them in a sitting room of a comfortable home. Severus bowed his head in greeting, and Hermione peeked out from where she was hidden against his collar. The little boy was bouncing on his toes, eager to get away from the man's hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place. The boy bowed at the waist after the man bowed his head in greeting to Severus. The woman smiled and reached for him. She hugged them, making Severus stiffen but not object.
Hermione jumped when the boy rushed forward and took her hand. She yanked free, whimpering and clutching her arms around Severus' neck. The boy’s face fell for a second, but his smile returned quickly.
“I sorry. Try again.”
The boy stood ramrod straight, shoulders back, head high. He clicked his heels together, then bowed. When he was straight again, he relaxed his posture and smiled brightly. The action wiggled a memory free. She remembered the boys from Durmstrang bowing like that at Hogwarts all those years ago. She flattened her body, indicating to Severus that she wanted down. She slid down his body and turned to the boy, still keeping her back pressed against Severus, who smoothed a hand down her hair before resting his hand on her shoulder. The boy slowly took her hand again, grasping her fingers, and lifting them to peck a kiss.
“Hello, Mina. You finally come to visit my home.”
Hermione gasped. Warmth flooded her chest so suddenly it hurt. “Viktor.” She threw herself at the boy, who caught her as they fell to the floor in an uncoordinated tangle. Viktor laughed and rolled them around until they were side by side, hugging while Viktor murmured in her ear. Hermione burst into tears again, large wracking sobs. She was positively worn out and wrung dry by all the emotional upheaval that was this day. Viktor just shushed her and stroked her hair. She cuddled against his warmth, relaxing at the familiar scent of his soap. Somebody draped them with a warm blanket and settled a pillow under their heads.
“I think children will be fine,” the woman's soothing voice said from above them. “Come, sit. We talk, make plans.”