A/N: Please note that this is a finished piece which was written for the SS/HG exchange a few years ago. I always intended to revise it and post but never got round to it. The revision has begun. My thanks and appreciation for their help, support, patience, beta work and friendship go to Nagandsev and Memory. A big thank you also goes to Snitchette for her French translations and for reminding me that book-Snape's first-year Potions speech differs from movie-Snape's (how could I have forgotten?). And thank you, as always, to JK Rowling for her wonderful characters and for allowing us to play with her stuff.

Chapter One

Harry Potter looked into the Pensieve and prepared to dive, face first, into its shimmering embrace.

The wizard beside him let out an impatient sigh, and looked down at the younger man with an expression of deep disdain. 'You don't usually require permission to enter a private memory, Potter. Get on with it, or we'll be here all day.'

'Yes, do hurry up, Harry,' agreed Professor McGonagall from her place just behind him. 'There are five of us to take a turn yet, and we are all quite anxious to see for ourselves.'

Harry obliged the general sentiment by taking a deep breath and plunging his head into the familiar, opaque depths of the ancient stone vessel. The memory he was about to view had been generously donated – with some encouragement from Severus Snape – by Mundungus Fletcher.

Harry felt a semblance of solid ground form beneath him as the vague confusion of the memory-mist cleared to reveal a busy train station. The platform was unfamiliar to him as he looked up and down it to locate their reluctant accomplice. After a moment, he caught sight of the familiar, dishevelled form of Mundungus, leaning against a wall just behind the group of Muggles who were waiting for their early morning train. No-one seemed to notice the devious old wizard, despite the fact that he was dressed with no concession, whatsoever, to his environment. His wizarding robes had seen far better days, and he had the appearance of a man for whom bathing had long since lost its appeal. Harry saw that Mundungus, who had been idly playing heads or tails with a knut, suddenly looked up from his activity, and directed his attention towards the far end of the station. The incorporeal sound of the public-address system had just announced that the train to Preston was about to arrive, triggering a general feeling of anticipation and a jostling of position from the waiting throng, who prepared to make a dash for the doors as soon as the train arrived.

Harry followed Mundungus' gaze; it fell upon the train, and Harry watched with him as it came to a shrieking stop. The doors opened and out tumbled the morning workers like swarming army ants. The task of spotting one yearned-for face amidst the chaos of metropolitan commuting seemed impossible. He could find a snitch amidst fourteen enthusiastic witches and wizards on a stormy evening, yet finding a lost friend meant so much more than winning at Quidditch. They had been disappointed so many times before that he felt another blow might be too much. This felt like their last chance to find her, and as it was their final lead, so much depended on the success of this slim possibility. It was with great excitement and relief, therefore, that Harry spotted the familiar figure of Hermione Granger as she embarked from the train—large bag draped across her shoulders, head held high, and face firmly set to crowd navigation.

He only caught a glimpse as the mob took her off towards the exit staircase, but it was enough to see that she had changed in ten years. She looked self-assured, groomed, mature, and alarmingly Muggle. He noticed her stylish Muggle hairdo, fastened back off her face and the small gadget she held in her hand. Harry recognised it as a mobile phone and knew where Arthur Weasley's attention would be focused when it was his turn for a viewing. Harry was well aware that her existence in this memory did not reach beyond the parameters of Mundungus' scrutiny, yet he couldn't stop himself from trying to follow in her direction. He got no further than two steps forward, however, when he felt himself being forcibly pulled from the memory, as Snape's long arm deemed his turn to be at an end.

Harry gasped and turned to face the expectant faces before him.

'Well?' asked Snape. 'Is it her?'

Harry nodded slowly, his shining eyes alone conveying the depths of his elation. The reaction from his small audience was immediate and no less joyous. Ron let out a whoop, Molly's hands flew to her face to support the ear-splitting grin, and Ginny embraced first her father and then Harry. Professor McGonagall simply repeated the words, 'We've found her,' to the general direction of the portraits of past Head-teachers, hanging expectantly in her office. Dumbledore's portrait stood and clapped, and Heliotrope Wilkins shouted, 'Oh, good show, eh Dilys?' Dilys Derwent was too busy wiping her eyes to respond.

Severus Snape was the only being present in the Headmistress' office who seemed unmoved by the news that Hermione Granger, missing-presumed-dead since May 2nd 1998, had at last been located by the team calling themselves Operation Bring Back Granger.

He waited for everyone who was able, and not occupying a painting, to look into the Pensieve and see Hermione for themselves. Once calm had descended upon the celebrations, he walked over to his old desk, as if he were still its rightful occupant, and cleared his throat in order to gain the attention of the team.

'Touching though your reactions are, it should not need me to remind you that our efforts are not yet over. I would go so far as to say that the most difficult part of our project remains.'

'She's a witch, not a project,' mumbled Ron.

'Quite. However, she is a witch who is practically lost to us and has been for ten years. Hermione Granger is, for all intents and purposes, a Muggle now.'

Molly's sigh was audible, and it echoed the feelings of everyone else in the room.

'Not by her own will, Severus. Surely that fact will help with her rehabilitation?' Professor McGonagall implored.

'You know perfectly well that returning a modified memory after such a long time can be dangerous,' Snape replied. 'Our next approach needs to be carefully considered.'

'Why can't we just follow her, Stun her, and take her to St Mungo's? They can do what's necessary,' said Ron.

Snape's lip curled with practiced contempt. 'Well, we can all sleep easy in our beds tonight, safe in the knowledge that our Aurors are as meticulous and capable as ever,' he replied. 'Which bit of a carefully considered approach are you having difficulty with, Weasley? Perhaps you would like to see your friend permanently situated in the next bed to Gilderoy Lockhart? I believe his perfectly restored memories keep everyone on the ward entertained.'

Ron reddened but kept his fury at bay. 'Fine,' he said, 'How's this for careful consideration? Why don't we get the bastard who did this to her? Make him restore them?'

'Lucius Malfoy is in Azkaban,' said Harry. 'We can't just walk up to the main gate, flash our Auror badges and tell the Dementors we'll have him back in time for tea.'

'Yeah well, I know it'll take time and effort obviously, but it could be done,' replied Ron. 'It's a possibility in an emergency. And if this isn't an emergency, I don't know what is.'

'The Ministry might take a different view, and besides, there are other factors to bear in mind, Mr Weasley,' said Professor McGonagall.

'Such as? I mean, if you think she would prefer to live as a Muggle...there is no way ... I mean, I know she probably doesn't remember that she's a witch, but once she does, she'll be grateful she was found and rescued from that Muggle existence.' Ron looked to his mother for the back-up he knew he would receive and was thankful for her emphatic nod.

'Ron, Hermione may have a perfectly good life that she's happy with,' said Arthur gently. 'We have to be prepared for that.'

'I know that, but once she knows...' Ron appealed to his friends and family. '... she's bound to want to come back to us, be a witch again. I'm not saying that she'll have to turn her back on her Muggle life for good; she's Hermione after all.'

'She may be married,' said Snape, ignoring Ron's scowl. 'She may have children.'

Ron bowed his head in defeat and nodded slowly. 'Yeah, you're right. It's not that I haven't thought it a possibility; it's just that up until now, we've been so focused on finding her that it was easy to put thoughts like that to the back of my mind.'

'You're married, Ron,' Ginny interrupted. 'What does it matter to you if Hermione has a husband and ten children? You gave up on that a long time ago.'

Ron rounded on his sister, furious at her accusation of disloyalty. 'We thought she was dead until a year ago. We had all accepted that. It wasn't easy, but we had to move on. I don't want to think of her as married because, if that's the case, then there is even less chance of bringing her back. It's not that I feel like that about her anymore; I love Cassie, but I want Hermione back too.'

Ginny looked slightly ashamed of her outburst and left her father's side to move closer to Ron. She was rewarded with a reluctant smile of forgiveness. Ron looked over towards a large window overlooking the grounds, where Snape was now standing with his back to the room, gazing out upon the warm July evening in quiet contemplation.

'Any suggestions, Professor Snape?' he said.

Snape turned around to face them. 'Minerva? Perhaps you had something in mind?' he asked dutifully deferring to his superior.

'Perhaps, but let's hear yours first, Severus.'

Snape took a slow and deliberate step towards them. 'This is a long-term endeavour,' he said, enjoying the sensation of commanding a captive audience.

'Here, here,' said Dumbledore's portrait.

Snape threw his old mentor a look which let it be understood that he was not to be interrupted.

'The main objective from now on is to restore Miss Granger's memories and to bring her back home.'

'Agreed,' replied Harry.

'The obstacles to this mission are as follows: we cannot restore her memories, only the person who tampered with them can effectively do that. Of course, there is a possibility that they will return by themselves. Lucius is in a weakened state; his magic is exhausted, and therefore, any magic he has performed may also be vulnerable and open to failure. For all we know, Miss Granger might already be experiencing an unsettling altered state in her consciousness as bits and pieces come back to her.'

Ginny interrupted. 'Altered? You mean hallucinations, stuff like that?'

'Perhaps unintentional magic or prophetic dreams,' continued Snape. 'If there is a natural return it needs to be monitored, charted... even carefully encouraged, then it is just possible that the delicacy of the return of her memories may be enough to prevent irreparable mental anguish.' Snape paused and walked back to the desk where he leaned lightly against it, folding his arms in a gesture of authority.

'Agreed, Severus,' said Arthur Weasley, 'she might think she's losing her mind if weird things start happening to her with no-one to explain and tell her she's not going mad.'

Professor McGonagall turned to her deputy. 'If I am to understand you right Severus, you are suggesting that one of us spy on her and report our findings back to the group? But what then?'

'That is very much dependent on Miss Granger herself. If she is exhibiting signs of memory return, it would be beneficial for the right person to work towards influencing their full restoration.'

'So any further course of action will depend entirely on what we find out?' replied Professor McGonagall.

Snape tipped his head in assent.

'So how exactly does the right person go about influencing her memories?' said Harry.

'He means for one of you to get to know her,' chipped in a familiar voice from its canvas confines. 'To reacquaint yourself with her, become part of her life, her friend. Spend time as a Muggle.'

Everyone turned to look at the wall.

'Is Albus right?' asked Professor McGonagall.

'Not that it is any of his business, but yes. I propose that we spend some time gathering enough information about Miss Granger's life, then nominate one of us to infiltrate it. That person will then have the opportunity, over the course of time, to jog her memories, to gently remind her of wizarding things. A slipped hint here, a dropped allusion there – small clues when least noticed. In time, she will piece them together, and her own mind will do the rest.'

'That could take forever,' said Ron.

'I take it they don't teach fortitude at Auror school, Weasley?' Snape replied with irritation. 'Do try to see the bigger picture for once.'

'Impulsive Gryffindors!' shouted Phineas Nigellus Black in support of his fellow Slytherin.

'I fear we are outnumbered, Headmaster,' replied Snape. He turned to the group of unlikely allies, which fortune had thrown him often in the company of over the past year. 'Then you are still determined to plump for the snatch, grab and hope-for-the-best option?'

'No!' said Harry. 'We may be Gryffindors, but we are not as reckless as you think. Your plan is the best we have; I vote we try it. What about the rest of you?'

'Absolutely,' agreed Professor McGonagall. 'But who is going to be the one to spy on her? And perhaps more importantly, who will volunteer to then become part of her life?'

Ron raised a cautious hand. 'I'd like to do it,' he said. 'I feel I have the right. She and I were... well, she was special to me. I want to be the one.'

Arthur looked at his son. 'Which is precisely the reason it shouldn't be you, Ronald.'

'And you're hardly the best choice for fitting in with Muggles, Ron,' said Ginny.

Professor McGonagall held up a hand to stop Ron's protest. 'This calls for a degree of impartiality: someone who can leave their feelings out of it, someone with experience of working undercover.'

Six pairs of eyes looked towards the Potions Master.

'Potter's Auror training gives him an excellent grounding in this kind of work,' Snape answered quickly. 'Who better?'

'I would never get permission to leave the job in order to pursue a personal project, Professor,' replied Harry.

'You are not the only one with obligations, Potter,' Snape spat. 'You always have to have the most important job, don't you? If it's not hunting Horcruxes, it's rounding up Death Eaters.'

Harry scowled. 'All I'm saying is the Ministry won't let me do it.'

Snape glared back at the son of his nemesis and not for the first time reflected upon the wisdom of agreeing to Minerva's plea for him to get involved. He had reluctantly agreed to help with the undercover work of locating the missing girl, but he had hoped that his input from now on would be minimal and advisory. He was happy to guide and direct; sneering at their cock-ups was an added bonus, but this was their show, not his... not really.

He made a final effort to extricate himself from the task. 'And you are not the only one beholden to a superior.'

'I give you permission to take as much time off as you need, Severus.' The headmistress smiled shrewdly. 'Horace has a few years in him yet; I'm sure I can persuade him to help out for as long as you are busy with your detective work.'

Snape scowled at his double-crossing senior. 'And if I refuse?'

Six pairs of eyes looked at him with doleful accusation. Snape's frown matched their reproachful stares.

'Very well,' he said. 'I will agree to undertake the reconnaissance work, but I will not agree to anything further. Someone else may act upon my information.'

'Agreed,' replied Harry.

'Thank you, Severus,' said Molly.

'Then let Operation Bring Back Granger commence,' said Professor McGonagall, handing out six glass tumblers into which she poured equal generous measures of Ogden's finest.

'A toast,' she proposed. 'To Hermione Granger's successful return.'