Hermione huffed – loudly. Once, once, she had gone into Knockturn Alley – once she had actually decided to go and look at Snape's apothecary and then there's a sign on the door. Closed. Closed.

"Argh," she said to her mother who looked a little – a tiny bit out of place.

True, Hermione wore Muggle clothes as well, normal jeans, a normal top and a coat but the people bustling past them – were, not even close to Muggles. They wore mismatched, dirty, robes and some wore shoes, others didn't – and she had to admit that she knew some of them. From work. She had her wand gripped inside of her sleeve and she knew how to duel. How to fight.

"Hermione, are you sure we should be here?" her mother asked, standing closely to her, when a woman, a bit tipsy, probably, walked past them.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure we could get the ingredients here but I don't know when Snape will open."

"Snape?" Judith Granger asked suddenly. "The Snape?"

Hermione nodded. "Severus Snape, yes. He owns this place."

"They let him sell potions? But didn't you say that most of the people here disliked and distrusted him? That nobody really cared that he had done this because of..."

"Shh, Mum," Hermione interrupted her quickly. "Even I'm not supposed to know why he actually turned spy. Harry was quite adamant about that."

"But it's so – heart wrenching. Doing this all because, well, you know why. It gives me the shivers, only thinking about it – my God, darling, to do all of this because of – you know what – love," she hissed the last word. "I have never met such a man. To feel that way for such a long time. Didn't you say over twenty years? I love your father and I know that he loves me but this is a whole new dimension of love."

"Yes," Hermione hissed. "Obsessive and crazy."

Judith shook her head, smiling gently. "Steady and romantic. I envy the woman he has now. If he has one. That man is loyal and will stand by you no matter what. He will not let you go lightly."

Hermione chuckled. "You don't know Snape, Mum. I doubt he has someone. He's difficult and a git. And that wasn't love. That was obsession and weird. Nothing that I wish on any woman."

"Well, I don't know him but I bet he's capable of love."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nope."

"Is that him?" she pointed at a black clad figure.

"No. It can't be. There's a...child with him."

Judith Granger merely raised her eyebrows and smirked.

xx

The girl skipped. She had slipped her hand in his and had smiled and now skipped by his side. Jumped. Bounced. In her new robes, new shoes, new skirt, new black woollen tights, new jumper. She looked a little like a mini-version of him now and he wasn't sure whether that was good. A chipper, happy, bouncing, skipping girly version of himself.

She had thanked him more often than he could count and had smiled ever since they had left Madame Irving's and that had been the same moment she had reached up and he had felt her cold fingers slipping into his hand.

Severus Snape disliked cold hands. He kept his warm – if it was cold outside, he wore gloves – if they grew cold without reason – Warming Charm. And her fingers, her hands, were cold. And he had forgotten to buy her a pair of gloves. He sighed softly and she looked up at him questioningly – and when he tightened his hold on her fingers, just to erase the less than comfortable feeling of her clammy, cold fingers in his warm palm, she looked up, smiled and had begun to skip and bounce and jump and it was – less than comfortable – but if he reprimanded her now, she would be scared again and would probably run off – in the middle of Knockturn Alley. And this was even less appealing than her bouncing.

Besides – being so happy because of three books and a few clothes? The bare necessities? Happy because of woollen tights. Ridiculous.

And yet, so realistic. What would he had given for new clothes back then? Wouldn't he had been more than happy and just as bouncy? Probably.

He was shocked to discover so many parallels between them – one after the other and he had bought some books on the subject – and would order a Pensieve. Even if it would put a dent into his savings. It might be worth to put some memories in there. Some that he didn't want to see every day. Even if it was expensive – and it wasn't for her well-being only. But also for his own.

She hummed beside him and bounced and smiled and he knew that he had made one girl very happy. It was an odd feeling. A very odd feeling to know that he had the power.

"Sirfather back to athopecary?" she asked suddenly and he frowned a little.

"Apothecary, Ophelia."

"Apocethary. Back to apocethary?"

"Apothecary," he repeated slowly but when she just looked at him, he nodded. "Yes. You can go upstairs to your room and read."

"Upstairs?" she asked shyly and shook her head. "Chair in corner."

"You want to be in the store?" he asked – completely surprised. Shocked, almost.

She nodded – still shyly.

"Well," he said slowly, trying to conceal his surprise at realising that she actually wanted to – be with him. Spend time with him. "You can stay down then but don't talk to anyone and you know you have to be quiet."

She nodded again and this time – she smiled and seemed to bounce a little more when they rounded the corner – the corner on which his house stood. A few more steps and they would be inside, away from the less than wholesome people outside. In the apothecary, he could control to at least a certain degree who his daughter would see and vice versa.

But then – there he saw someone he had absolutely no longing to see.

xx

"That is him," Hermione gasped and Judith couldn't hide a grin.

"With a child, eh? Doesn't really look like his niece. More like his daughter," she whispered and nudged her daughter, "Not able to love?"

"That could be anything," Hermione said voicelessly and nudged back. "And I want to buy things at his shop, so you better be quiet, alright?"

Judith grinned. Certainly not. She would not be quiet, she would talk to this man. Never had the chance to thank him for helping his daughter, for saving his daughter. And she was curious.

Besides, even though she had been married for over thirty years, she still could judge very well which men were handsome – or at least interesting – in her book. And even though this man certainly did not fall into the former category – he did into the latter. And the girl bouncing beside him seemed so happy.

Not able to love – ha! Of course he was when he had a little girl at that age beaming up at her father (and of course she didn't know – but really – they looked so much alike. Same hair, same mouth, same eyes. No doubt she was his daughter).

She hid her smirk and tried her serious – I'm-sorry-but-we-have-to-do-a-root-canal-or-the-tooth-will-have-to-come-out-face.

xx

Sirfather seemed to stiffen a bit and gripped her hand tighter. It wasn't the kind hand-warming it had been before – this was almost painful and maybe – maybe – it had something to do with the two women that looked at him curiously but who were the first people she had seen since she lived with Sirfather that wore normal clothes.

She had learned from Mummy, Madame Sylvie and Sirfather to be careful with and weary of strangers. Never take candy – or in Sirfather's case – never leave his side. And she had absolutely no intention of doing so. The more time she spent with him, the more she knew what was so nice about him. He always smelled good – not only his cheek but the entire Sirfather. She couldn't say what smell it was but it almost smelled as warm, sometimes even warmer, than porridge and coffee. And warm meant a feeling like the bed she had now – that was always warmed and with the warm duvet pulled up to her nose. That was the feeling that she got now when she smelled her Sirfather. Somehow.

She smiled up at him and he wore the angry-face. But he did not even look at her but at the two women in normal clothes and Ophelia wondered whether he really knew them. And whether he disliked them.

Oh – maybe the young one was his wife – and she would be sent away now. Maybe his wife didn't know her Sirfather was her Sirfather and she had been on holiday or somewhere and Sirfather had not told her and she was – no. Why should she be his wife?

That was a stupid idea. Sirfather had no wife. Or a girlfriend.

She hoped. And held on tighter to him and pushed herself closer to his legs.

xx

He had only looked at her briefly but she felt herself catapulted back into her childhood – the years at Hogwarts when he had worn that scowl constantly.

The ability to love? No. He was less than gentle with the girl, held her hand tight and seemed to push her towards his leg as he quickly took his eyes off her and her mother and unwarded his apothecary without sparing her another glance and almost dragged the girl inside.

"Love, Mum?"

"She was clinging to him, didn't you see?" her mother rolled her eyes.

"He was dragging her."

"He wasn't. She was clinging."

"Dragging."

"Clinging. And stop arguing. I am your mother," she ended the argument with a smirk. "And go get your ingredients, it's open now."

Hermione breathed deeply and took hold of her mother's forearm and this time, dragged her along – into the apothecary.

She would – somehow – find out if this was his daughter. Or maybe his niece. Or half-sister. Or anyone.

She would buy the ingredients, and, since she was a former student, would be entitled to a few questions. Especially since she hadn't seen him since – the Shrieking Shack. Since they'd all thought he was dead. They had only found out later that he wasn't – and had, about six months later – opened the apothecary. More than ten years ago. Almost fourteen years ago – almost.

He had aged – objectively seen – well. Almost not at all. He looked almost the same he had. A little less pale and lifeless and well – dead – but no, not that much older. Not thirteen years older. Almost fourteen while she – lately – looked every bit of her now 32 years. Married for seven, a mother of two children, in the middle of a separation, a stressful job – she was entitled to have those little wrinkles around her eyes. She was entitled to a hurting back some time. Still...

And he looked younger now with – what? - 51? 52?

Now – that was unfair.

She shook her head inwardly and, with less difficulty than she thought, pulled her mother into the apothecary.

"Professor Snape, good day to you," she smiled and moved to the counter, her eyes – alternately on him – and on the girl, maybe three and a half – four – who was sitting quietly, in her robes and her legs dangling a little, a stuffed animal on her lap, her fingers playing idly with – one of the heads of the, she had to grin a little, hellhound.

The child smiled a little at her, then looked down and seemed to communicate silently with her cuddly – the same way she had done as a child – the same way her own children did sometimes.

"I am not a Professor any more, Miss Granger," he drawled – malice lacing his words.

No – he had not changed. "Or is that Missus Weasley now? Granger-Weasley? Weasley-Granger?" he continued – meanly.

"Granger will do fine," she spat back.

"Hello, I'm Hermione's mother, Judith Granger" her mother suddenly stepped forward and reached out – obviously wanting to shake his hand. "You must be Severus Snape. My daughter has told me a lot about you."

"She would," he drawled – but, to Hermione's surprise, shook her mother's hand briefly. "And I am indeed Severus Snape."

"Very pleased to meet you," she smiled, then apparently looked at the girl. "And you are?" she asked softly and Hermione could not believe it. This was unlike her mother. Or very much like her.

The girl looked questioningly at Snape – then back to her mother – then back at Snape.

"You may answer," he told her.

"I'm Ophelia," she said shyly and jumped off the chair and hid behind Snape's legs.

xx

The impertinence. Coming into his apothecary now. He had not seen Granger since – forever – and he had no intention of ever doing so again. And now she brought her mother inside. A Mother that was incredibly polite and knew her manners.

And he had to respond to that, naturally. Still – the reaction of his girl – he could understand that. Hiding behind him from curious Granger-women – not stupid. He put his hand on her shoulder (which was a bit awkward) and squeezed it. But she remained behind him after she had answered. Not her full name – but that should do.

"Your daughter?" Missus Granger asked – and smiled.

"Yes," he said coldly. "Any reasons you came in here, Miss Granger or was it mere curiosity?"

"Pepper Up," she replied just as coldly and seemed to want to see Ophelia again – her head was oddly tilted.

"The respectable apothecaries all sold out finally?" he asked with a sneer.

"Yes."

"Interesting. My price just went up," he smirked. "Two vials 27 galleons. If you take 5, I'll make a special price. Let's say 65 Galleons."

"You know that that's extortion?" she asked sharply, her eyes flashing.

"Yes. That or making business. Take it or leave it. I'm sure within the next two days, people will storm in here and pay every price."

"And the ingredients?"

He made a calculating face – and still held his daughter by the shoulder. "Well, every ingredient? Or just a few?"

"Those that I need for Pepper Up. I don't have anything at home."

"Hm – well it's difficult, since it would be completely to my disadvantage to sell the ingredients for you to make it yourself. But, since it's you – the entire bunch for about three vials – depending on how well you brew – always, of course, provided that you can brew it still, 33 Galleons."

"You're insane. And every bit the person I remember," she spat and, wanting to drag her mother along, left the shop but Missus Granger stood rooted on the spot and Hermione Granger – still impulsive, still very much the Gryffindor, had run out.

"Mister Snape, good bye," she said and smiled and proffered her hand again. "It was really nice meeting you."

"Good bye, Missus Granger."

"Any chance on a better price for the potion?" she had turned towards the door – then turned to him again.

"I'm afraid, Missus Granger, you misjudge me," he drawled and pushed Ophelia back again, after she had taken a peek.

"I don't think I do," she smiled and apparently her eyes had fallen on the girl. "Good bye, Ophelia. It's a lovely name you have."

"Good bye," she piped from behind his legs.

"I hope to see you again, Ophelia. You too, Mister Snape," she smiled and, without another word, left the store.

He was – almost impressed by her mother. She had stood her ground and he could see where Hermione Granger had inherited her courage from. Every other person would have probably either paid at first, or would have left the apothecary in a rage. Like she had done. Not Missus Granger.

He smirked and turned to his daughter. "We'll brew some Pepper Up Potion now," he told her and she looked up.

"Can I help?" she asked softly and – he found himself nodding. Just nodding his head.