London, Euston Station, July 25th, 2003
It wasn’t often that Mrs Granger invited her daughter Hermione for a day of shopping spent in London. And it was even rarer that the busy young woman could make the time. After finding her parents in Australia and undoing the memory spell it had been some tense years for the small family. Mr and Mrs Granger could not help being severely disappointed by their only child’s decision. Or decisions rather, the first one being not telling her parents about the troll and many more following. Having raised the girl to be honest and open-minded the pair of dentists was truly hurt by their daughter omitting so many things about the wizarding world and then Obliviating them! They did not know about the magical theory behind the spells but one look at Arthur Weasley’s relieved face told them just what Hermione had risked.
But now it was five years later and all three Grangers had worked hard to repair their relationship.
Mother and daughter were waiting on the platform between tracks 14 and 15 for their train back home to Hertfordshire. The incoming express to Manchester was just announced when Mrs Granger exclaimed, “Look, Hermione!” She pointed to the long stairs. A man was running downstairs, leaping over two or three stairs with each of his steps.
“Magnificent!”
Indeed he was. Long, lean legs clothed in black denim, an open shirt over a tightfitting nondescript blue T-shirt. But most fascinating was the grace with which he dodged the other passengers on the stairs.
The man caught his train, passing mere yards in front of the waiting Granger women. Hermione was still staring where the runner’s very well-formed butt had vanished into the wagon when her brain caught up with what her eyes had seen when the man had passed her by. Whom that unmistakable profile belonged to, even with tied back hair and out of billowing robes.
“Professor Snape!”
The train moved away. Hermione and her mother looked at each other before breaking out in an uncharacteristic fit of giggles.
“You know this man?”
“Well, he looked like my former potions teacher, Professor Snape.”
“The brooding, dark spy who was the secret hero of everything, out of undying love?”
“He would hex you for describing it like that but yes, the very same.”
“He’s not bad looking either. How old is he?”
“Early forties I guess, why?”
“You can bring him home for dinner anytime. Or for helping Dad fixing the roof on the shed. He might wear short trousers then, and no shirt.”
“Mum!”
Scandalized as she was about her mother lusting after a man of her acquaintance Hermione had some interesting dreams that night of Potions master Snape in her parent’s back garden, wearing nothing but cut-off jeans and a low-slung tool-belt.
Fin