Hogwarts
Hermione opened an empty rail car on the Hogwarts express, tucked her trunk under the bench, and cracked open one of her new and more favourite books, “Hogwarts, a History.” She was so engrossed, in fact that until she looked up absentmindedly, to gaze out the window, she did not notice the man – the man, in fact – staring at her from the seat across from her.
“Do you know who I am?” He said slowly.
Hermione nodded and licked her dry lips, but said nothing.
The man leaned closer to her. His greasy black, shoulder length hair was his most pronounced feature. But under that hair lied a pair of brown eyes like Hermione’s, although his were darker, almost black, but both lightened and had small flecks of gold around the pupil. His nose was also like Hermione’s, with narrower nostrils and a pronounced, almost bumpy bridge. His complexion was pale, like Hermione, only she was a little more freckled, and both had thin, piano-fingers. The resemblance wasn’t striking, but Hermione could certainly see it when she was looking for it. The man saw it too as he took a good look at his daughter for the first time in his life.
“How did you get here?” Hermione finally asked.
“Your mother didn’t tell you?” the man’s face fell. “I’m a professor here.”
Hermione said nothing.
“I’ve been wishing to meet you your entire life,” Her father said, grasping at straws.
“But you never did.” Hermione said, matter of factly. “Not until now. Why?”
“Your mother wouldn’t let me.” He said.
Hermione said nothing.
“You see,” Her father went on, “By the time I found out about you, your mother had already married that other man. I begged her to let me see you, but she wouldn’t allow it. She said I didn’t belong in your world.” he smiled, “But now that you’re a witch, we belong in the same world.”
Hermione furrowed her brow. “So what you’re saying is that you never planned to marry or stay with my mother, only my birth made you feel obligated?”
Hermione frowned, then before her father could get in another word, she grabbed her trunk and moved to the next car.
The first week at Hogwart’s hadn’t met Hermione’s standards, in fact it had been quite retched. It seemed children were the same everywhere. She was still too outspoken for her own good, too meddlesome, too much of a know it all, and too fundamentally unattractive - with large teeth and bushy hair – for boys to like. She hadn’t made a single friend since coming to Hogwarts, except perhaps Neville Longbottom: a stout, forgetful boy who found he was yelled at less if she was his partner in class. To make matters worse, she found out that her father –her only real connection in the wizarding world -was even worse off. Not only was he the head of Slytherin, her house’s arch rival, but even much of his own students didn’t really like him. So, she kept this secret to herself, afraid to become even more of an outcast because of her lineage, despite the fact that she had only met the man once in her life, on the train ride in.
But that wasn’t the sort of thing children would understand. They would make a connection between her DNA, and them not liking her and that would stick with her throughout her life, even if she never talked to the man again. So, Hermione decided to say she was a muggle born. She talked about her father, the man who had raised her, and left her biological father clean out of it. Even if there were a few students who hated muggle borns, mostly Slytherins, it was still less than the amount that hated Severus Snape.
Severus watched his daughter from a distance and was sad to see that she was much like him. She was relatively friendless, she didn’t fit in well, due to both her appearance and her intelligence, and she was ashamed of her family -him in particular. He didn’t blame her of course, not even for lying about who her real father was. He had tried to do the same thing in his first year as well, though it never worked. He only wished she could get along better. He had always imagined her to be like her mother, or even her step father, not him. But it seemed she was: against both their wishes.