A/N: [HG/SS] Thanks to some trick of fate that could have only come from Neville Longbottom, Ottermione finds herself propelled back in time just in right moment to prevent Severus Snape from committing the one act he had spent his lifetime atoning for.

QLFC: Finals Round 2

Pride of Portree vs Wimbourne Wasps

Position: Beater #1

Team: Pride of Portree

Main prompt: Time Travel

Optional Prompts:

3. (word) linger

4. (song) 'Remembering Sunday' by All Time Low

I used the following lyrics from said song as inspiration:

He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes

Started making his way past 2 in the morning

He hasn't been sober for days

Leaning now into the breeze

Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees

They had breakfast together

But two eggs don't last

Like the feeling of what he needs

8. (dialogue) "Why do you have to make everything so complicated?"

Beta Love: fluffpanda

Betas under duress: Calloniel (late night zombie herder), Serpentine13 (the anti-spacer), Roselina4389, Sehanine (the late night victim of my brain picking)

Time Slipped Over a Banana Peel as Hermione Granger Fell Into My Life

I woke up from a dream in which my father had showed up in my quarters at Hogwarts, put on my shoes, and started walking around the halls at past two bloody o'clock in the morning stark naked. He sat with me at the Slytherin table for breakfast, and somehow all I had was two eggs on my plate while everyone else had filet mignon. Father had danced on the tables with only a candelabra to his name. He had remained naked the entire span of my dream. It was a horrifying image I did not need. As usual, just as he was in life, he hadn't been sober for days. And again, as usual, he had managed to get me in trouble at his expense and had somehow gotten five thousand points taken off Slytherin. Everyone had hated me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head to clear it from the nightmare. Even in my dreams, being hated was nothing new. Even in my sleep, my father was a horrible excuse for a human being.

Low squeaking alerted me to what had become an early morning problem, routine, and somewhat of a beloved ritual. Two honey-brown eyes stared at me from under my pillow.

"Good morning," I said, scooping the otter up in my arms and feeling her snuffle my face with her whiskers.

She breathed into my face.

"Ugh, urchin breath," I grunted, but there was a smile on my lips. That was something new, thanks to her.

Hermione was her name. She had named herself, actually. She had pulled the old book of Shakespeare out of my hidden cache of books under my bed, nosed the pages carefully until she came upon A Winter's Tale and pressed her nose to the character Hermione. I had figured, why not? A random sea otter fell out of the sky and saved my social life. Why question her being more intelligent than Avery and Mulciber combined and her seemingly naming herself after Shakespearean characters? I wasn't going to look a gift otter in the mouth.

She had literally fallen on me in the middle of what I still believe was the most humiliating moment of my life. As I was recovering from being suspended in mid air, my mouth full of bubbles from James Potter's spells, and my wand too far away to be of any help at all, she had fallen from the sky and landed with a loud squeak on my lower jaw. She slammed there so hard, the string of angry and humiliated words I was spewing towards Lily (in my indignation for being caught, quite literally, up in the air) cut off in mid epithet.

Hermione had managed to prevent me from saying the word that had almost slid out from me with far too much-practised usage: Mudblood.

I would have been even more indignant at the time had I not had a glorious saviour in one sky-fallen sea otter. She had launched off my jaw (which was still throbbing after being slammed into) and clambered up James Potter's leg. Before anyone could do anything, she had nailed him in the family jewels, rendering him a howling mess. He had dropped his wand to clutch his pained balls, and Hermione had grabbed his wand and dodged a very nasty curse from Pettigrew I had had no idea he was capable of. She had then crawled up Pettigrew's robes, insured that Pettigrew probably wasn't going to have children anytime in the near future, and then latched onto his arm with her teeth to swing down to the ground. Now, the otter had two wands in her mouth, and I had watched her bounce off into the undergrowth under the cover of the chaos that followed.

My face had twisted in embarrassment, but I was laughing on the inside. There I had been, hanging in the air upside down with my pants around my ankles, yet, in front of me, my tormentors had been laid low by a precocious member of the Mustelidae family who had used my jaw as a launching board for her ottery wrath.

I hadn't been sure which trickster god was giving me his blessing, but I resolved myself to leave an offering of thanks to Loki, Coyote, Iktomi, and Raven just to cover all the bases. To be thorough, I had said the prayer of thanks. There couldn't have been a better time to pray to trickster gods at that point. I was the ultimate offering of humiliation and ridicule.

Perhaps the trickster gods had been smiling upon me that day, because as I waited for the blood that had rushed to my head to rush back to where it was supposed to be, I had noticed that something had changed in front of me: the dynamic of the Marauders. There, on the ground, writhing in pain, was Peter Pettigrew. He had been too distracted clutching his injured gonads to realise the otter had torn away his sleeve to expose a very damning tattoo—one that even my fellows in Slytherin hadn't dared get branded into them until after graduation. There, emblazoned on his arm, was the Dark Mark.

The commotion over that tattoo had been so great that I had been able to shake off the after-effects of the levitation spell, regain my dignity, and pat around to try to find my wand. I had looked around in many places before I felt a tug on my trouser leg. There, at my feet, had been Hermione, three wands shoved into her mouth as she looked up at me. Mine, Peter's, and Potter's wands had glistened with a fine coat of otter drool. I had picked her up and looked into her eyes, and something magical had happened. I had known, at that very moment, I would never be alone again. All the empty honey-laden promises the Dark Lord had given me fell away. All that mattered was her and that non-judgmental gaze trapped in those honey-brown eyes.

She had climbed onto my shoulder and nestled against my neck like she had been doing it all her life, and for once, I hadn't even minded. Lily had run up to me, wrapping her arms around me in her distress, and for the equally first time, I had realised I didn't care that she was doing it front of God, Merlin, and everyone.

"Severus, are you okay?" she had asked.

"I'm fine, Lily," I'd managed to say.

Hermione had chomped on my ear.

"Ow!" I had stammered. "Thank you… for trying to defend me."

Hermione had licked my bitten ear as if to apologise, and I couldn't help but think that she had done it on purpose at just that moment to spur on that awkward apology.

"Sev, is she yours?" Lily had asked, her eyes wide as she stared at Hermione with what could have been jealousy or admiration. I had never been great at telling the difference.

"Apparently, I'm hers," I had confessed. "She fell out of the sky to meet me."

That had been the start of… so many changes. Just one day that had started out absolutely horrible had turned into something not quite so horrible. The discovery of a honest-to-God branded Death Eater amongst the Gryffindors had torn the school apart with gossip and drama. The Marauders turned against him, and the boy had snapped, spewing venom about Pureblood supremacy, how the Dark Lord Voldemort had chosen him for the ultimate mission, how his Lord would subjugate everyone, that he had plans to lure more to his side, find immortality, and reform the world in his imagined perfection… He said quite a bit more than that, but honestly I had stopped listening when he started talking about Voldemort 'planting his seed in the pure and murdering all Muggles to ensure he lived forever.'

Even Lucius, Avery, and Mulciber paled at the things the boy was saying. The honeymoon phase of being a Death Eater had left them completely. I had known at a glance that none of them would take the Mark after that performance. I had known I wouldn't either, but for entirely different reasons.

Peter, apparently a hidden Animagus, turned into a rat when Dumbledore had called in the Aurors. He tried to escape but hadn't gotten far. One irate grey tabby cat had descended upon him with all the wrath of Hecate. Whether on purpose or accident, no one had really known but McGonagall. Peter had twitched on the floor, his spine broken. He would live, or so Poppy Pomfrey had said, but he would never walk again—not that it was particularly saddening, given the circumstances. No one had questioned McGonagall's actions. The Aurors simply levitated Pettigrew out of Hogwarts and disapparated.

The Aurors had torn through Pettigrew's mind, looking for any detail regarding the Dark Lord. Apparently, the rat had known far more than anyone had guessed, including the Dark Lord. No one had suspected him. He had known, for example, that the Dark Lord was really Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom Riddle was Voldemort. Half-blood Tom Riddle had managed to convince an entire Pureblood faction to support his rise to power… sullying their names for his hypocritical cause.

Pureblood families couldn't backpedal fast enough, donate to the Wizarding Orphanages quick enough, or wash their hands of the drama with enough speed. Shame and dishonour flew to the far reaches, and by the time the Aurors picked Pettigrew's brain to find evidence of his spying on Voldemort speaking with Bellatrix Lestrange about crucial objects he needed hidden, Voldemort's minion pool had shrunk into nothing. His influence had taken a turn for the worse.

Headmaster Dumbledore had come back from the Wizengamot trial for Peter Pettigrew with fire in his eyes and wrath in his step. He had holed himself away with Aurors and staff, and they had emerged after a week of not having our normal classes only to leave on tasks that apparently had more of a priority than teaching us.

A month later, with only a few classes having met regularly due to the drama, the headlines in the Prophet explained it all:

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, Defeated by Albus Dumbledore and Sentenced to Azkaban for Crimes Against Wizarding Kind and Muggles Alike!

Horcruxes! The Darkest Magic Reborn by He-Who-Shall-Rot-Forever-in-Azkaban Destroyed in Magical Fiendfyre.

Immortality Is Foiled Thanks to Crack Auror Teams!

Minister of Magic Eugenia Jenkins Reinstated after Corruption Exposed in Ministry.

Dementors Kiss All Prisoners in Azkaban and Flee Their Posts!

Classes at Hogwarts Resume after Highly Talented Staff Assists Minister of Magic in Re-organising Azkaban to Work Without Dementors.

Hundreds of similar headlines later, the War that Almost Was became the War that Never Made It. Rita Skeeter had made her name chronicling the Rise and Fall of Tom Riddle, and she became known as the best historical reporter the Prophet had ever seen. She had begun to travel the world, writing about local heroes and villains great and small from the Americas to the Far East.

The Wizarding World slowed down into something I could only describe as peaceful, and my life took a different turn.

Having seen the duplicitous nature of Peter, who had been the closest to them, Lily finally convinced her friends to give me a fair shake. Now, instead of sitting alone under my Tree of Perpetual Solitude, I was surrounded by what could only be the most mismatched group of friends. I had become friends with my enemies.

Thanks to Hermione and the shaming of all things Death Eater, Lucius, Avery, and Mulciber no longer wanted to be seen together, and that included not wanting to be seen with me, lest we be accused of consorting to bring back the Dark Lord. I honestly had no idea what they meant, but I had found I didn't care as much anymore. One squeaky brown otter demanded my attention every day in a way that made hippogriffs seem low maintenance. I found that my thoughts no longer tended to linger on the what-ifs, and instead I found peace in what was right in front of me.

Lily was growing far too attached to Potter, in my opinion, but we were still the best of friends. I suspected that they would be announcing a wedding soon after graduation if she wasn't already pregnant by then.

I did solemnly swear; I would never walk into that particular hallway ever again on my way back from the potions laboratory. Hermione had tried to warn me by tugging on my trouser leg and squeaking at me to follow her, but like the oblivious idiot I was prone to being when my head was full of potion facts, I didn't pay attention to her.

To make it up to her, I had ended begging Professor Slughorn to allow me to Apparate to the ocean to allow "my familiar" to hunt for urchins and such to keep up her health after that. Thankfully, Slughorn was so impressed with my work in Potions that he wanted to lure me into an Apprenticeship. He had spoken with Dumbledore to allow me special permission to travel to the ocean for my familiar's health on the condition I apprentice under him. It had seemed like a no-brainer there, so I'd accepted. I'd have been a horrible Slytherin had I not seen the benefit of that arrangement! Slughorn said I would be the youngest Potion Master Hogwarts had ever seen once I was done. I would admit: I did like the sound of that.

Hermione and I had been inseparable since the day she literally fell into my life. Her warmth and scent lulled me to sleep, and when I woke up, she was always there to pull down my duvet, tug my slippers onto my feet, and run off with my breakfast sausages. Saucy little minx…

Dumbledore always looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. He had said once that "time doth heal all wounds" and a chain of other words of wisdom I had stopped listening to when Hermione had stuck her nose into my ear canal and sneezed. He had patted me on the shoulder and sent me on my way, answering my already forgotten questions with an equally unhelpful comment, "Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Mr Snape? Can you not just accept that sometimes things work out for the best?"

Hermione squeaked at me. In her mouth was Albus Dumbledore's wand, coated in a fine layer of otter drool.

My eyes widened as I scooped her up and hurriedly stuffed her under my robes. I quickly placed the wand on the desk next to the lemon drops and rushed out the door to the Headmaster's office like my pants were on fire.

Potter, Black, and Lupin, my unlikely friends, met me in the hallway, waving their little map at me.

"Well, what did Dumbledore say?" they asked.

"He told me that he would file the exception to having an otter as a familiar himself," I answered with a huff, "and he said to stop making things more complicated for myself."

"Well, what else happened?" Potter asked. "You left in a hurry!"

I pointed one pale finger at Hermione. She licked my fingertip.

"This kleptomaniac stole Dumbledore's wand," I confessed. "I had to put it back before he noticed and make myself scarce before she decided to steal anything else."

Potter, Black, and Lupin laughed, putting their arms around my shoulders. "She's a natural, mate! Come on, Lily wants to have lunch on the green today. We can teach Hermione how to steal tarts off the High Table for us. Remus taught her how to nick fresh eggs out from under Hagrid's hens."

"I will not teach my familiar how to commit acts of larceny!" I bellowed.

Potter slammed his hand over my mouth. "Shh! Come on, Severus. Let's not keep Lils waiting. You know how she gets when we're late for lunch."

"Well acquainted," I said with a shake of my head.

I found myself being dragged off towards lunch by my once-enemies.

The warmth of an otter against my neck reminded me how it had come to pass.

Thanks to some twist of fate, a sea otter had fallen on me in my time of need—a gift from the trickster gods for not killing their agents.

I smiled serenely. It had become a habit.

I had finally stepped out from under my father's drunken shadow and found happiness. I owed it to a bundle of squeaky brown fur with webbed feet.

As I stared at Lily sitting on the green with a picnic lunch laid out for all of us, I realised… I was okay with that.

As long as Hermione was with me, we would face the world together. I just had to stay away from people with influence, lest Hermione klepto-steal the Minister of Magic's wand right out from under her nose.

Cheeky little minx.

Damn, I loved her.

Hermione looked at me with her honey-brown eyes and chirped adoringly at me. I placed my hand on her head and soothed her fur. Together—I liked the sound of that.

"Hey, Remus, have you seen my wand?" Potter was saying from up ahead.

"Your wand?" Lupin sputtered. "I thought you took mine!"

"Oi," Black yelled. "Lily, did you nick my wand?"

"I'm not going near your wand, Sirius," Lily muttered. "I know where it's been."

My head turned slowly to the right to stare at Hermione.

There in her mouth was Black, Potter, and Lupin's wands. She stared at me, honey eyes locking into mine as a warmth and amusement radiated from her mind.

It was going to be an interesting life. I planned to make every moment count.

Fin.

A/N: In my head, Neville had done "something" that sent Ottermione back in time. Whatever he did, it trapped her as an otter. Dumbledore, being too observant not to know what happened, was content to let Hermione stay with Severus in thanks for tipping him off with how to defeat Tom Riddle. Hermione being Hermione, once she made friends with Snape, couldn't abandon him. She chose the life of a familiar to be with him throughout life rather than seek a way back to a future that she most likely wouldn't recognise.

Hope you enjoyed it, folks!