Obiter Dictum

2

The glamours and protective enchantments that protected the home and surrounding land were heavy and strong.

Before her, the building seemed little more than the remains of a terrible fire.

Visualising the photograph that had come with her acceptance for the position, she pushed away the figment slowly. Of course, a simple revelio wouldn't have worked. This was powerful old magic. The caster must have been brilliant.

A beautiful, large farmhouse stood in its place. The wards welcoming her, the magic enveloping her warmly, sensing no threat. The hum of it just barely brushing her as it aquatinted itself with her own magical signature. It was light and sweet and so delicate. This was good magic.

The sky was darkening, the weather turning. As much as she would have liked to explore the grounds, the universe seemed to have other plans in mind.

Approaching the front door, she made to knock, greeted by a young boy. She smiled down at him kindly. He could not have been more than five years old. And he was absolutely darling. Bright green eyes looked up at her, caught in some thought.

"Hello," said the witch, her tone soft. "I'm looking for Master Snape. Is he home?"

The boy nodded and ran off, leaving the door slightly ajar. Only a few moments passed before she heard footsteps coming toward her, followed by an unfamiliarly gentle voice.

Make no mistake, she would have recognised that baritone anywhere. But the gentle kindness that accompanied it was so incredibly foreign to her. Her heart warmed as the door opened further, the boy once again coming into view. This time in the arms of the host. The man shot her a quick look, beckoning her inside. The sleet had started just as she stepped over the threshold.

She cleared her throat, meeting his eyes. "Master Snape, your home is lovely," Dark, dark eyes she had watched the life fade from. The breath caught and she forced herself to breathe.

Glancing away and focusing on the boy, he nodded. "Thank you, Miss Granger. I trust your journey went well? No trouble finding the place?"

She shook her head, swallowing hard. Wayward curls coming loose from her plait. "Not at all. Your instructions were very clear,"

Oddly enough, he offered her a sort of smile. "Nonsense," he replied, looking back at the child. "Miss Granger is awfully clever, isn't she? Finding the house all on her own,"

The boy nodded in agreement and kissed the wizard on the cheek. Setting him down, the man straightened out to shake her hand. "You seem to be faring better than when we last crossed paths," he said idly, his hand absently brushing the silvering scars above his high collar.

Again, a flash of his lifeless eyes and another of all the blood danced across her vision. She forced a smile. "I could say the same, sir,"

As much as she longed to forget what had happened in the Shrieking Shack, the images replayed on a loop, catching her at odd times of the day. Tattooed on the backs of her eyelids. The torment of constantly rewatching him die was heartwrenching.

And yet, he stood before her.

With a child, no less.

The thought softened her smile. "The magic in your wards is very welcoming," she mentioned, an attempt to ease the tension that had built up between them as the small boy ran off.

He offered a curt nod in response, that all too familiar mask of indifference falling into place on his features. "My wife was brilliant with charms. We wanted the children safe,"

Hermione nodded slowly as he gestured that she follow him. His wife? Was? Children?

It appeared there was still much she didn't know of the former hated potions' professor of Hogwarts.