Smiles That Shine Through Tears

Chapter One

When things aren't as you've always known

There was a time when things were normal. Day ran into day, following an easy, simple routine. I was in the kitchen, putting dishes away. She had washed them, it was only fair that I put them away. I was thinking about making some bread. Hermione lay in front of the fire, eyes closed. She'd been working at the computer all morning. I didn't look at her. I'd seen her like this so often before, watched the little lines of tension fade from her brow as her mind stopped spinning away in distant worlds. When she opens her eyes she'll be back in reality, somehow more here, more aware than she was ten minutes ago. Then I can talk to her.

The sweet smell of burning wool hung in the air, pleasant and cloying. No doubt an ember rolled out, unnoticed, she had explained when I saw her out in the garden, soaking the rug. People wonder why I worry. She would have had no idea, lost in her far distant worlds. She couldn't even explain why she had walked away from the computer, returning to reality long enough to realise that the room was full of smoke. It didn't seem to matter to her.

I looked out of the window and saw the rug lying on the grass, where she'd left it. An uneven, black-edged hole was burnt right through. The cat walks in, brushing against her shoulder. She opens her eyes, looking up at the cat's chin, watching the tail flick past her eyes and lifts a hand slightly so that the cat walks underneath. I don't see any of this, but I know because I have seen it before. A slight rustling noise - she has rolled onto her side, ready to get up. I decide I will make bread, she must be hungry.

A sharp crack startled me. I thought it was a bird hitting the window. Sometimes they live, sometimes they don't, it happens often. My cat, Cleo, growled deep in her throat and scampered across the room, vanishing seconds later in the noise of a swinging cat flap.

Hermione is talking. I look round the door, curious. At first I think she is talking to the fire because she is looking at the flames. Then she sees me. "Jane, are you busy? Come and meet a friend of mine." I wonder if she has picked up the bird, perhaps trying to save it if it has only been knocked out. Hermione can be like that sometimes. I put the tea towel down and step into the room, nearly at the fire before I realise there is some-one there. A tall, sallow-complexioned man, dressed in long flowing robes.

"Jane, this is Severus Snape," she said. "Severus was one of my teachers at school."

The man bowed briefly, and stepped forward. I hold my hand out and he takes it briefly, limply. His eyes gleam with a keen intelligence, the long hair roughly pulled back in a pony tail. He had been standing almost in the corner of the room, looking at Hermione's back as she looked at the fire.

I didn't know what to say, and stood with my head down, listening to them talk. His voice is cold, but not unpleasant. Crookshanks, her old ginger cat lies on his cushion, turning his head to look at them as they talk. I slip away to the kitchen again, finish my chores and tip two cups of flour into a bowl, ready to make the bread for lunch. As I turn the scone and lower the heat under the pan, I hear the door click quietly. Our visitor is gone. Hermione is putting wood on the fire, which crackles as it begins to burn. A few minutes later I bring the bread, plates and jam to the fire. We place them on a sheet of newspaper and sit cross-legged to eat our lunch. Hermione reads while she's eating, then dashes back to her office. She writes books - highbrow textbooks. I throw the plates in the sink and leave for nursery.

* * * *

As I enter the main room of the nursery two children throw themselves at me, the little girl planting a wet kiss on my cheek. I hug them, and accompany them back to the mat where Mrs Knight is teaching them to sit quietly and recite their little nursery rhymes and phrases. Because I am a few minutes late, she is almost ready for the story. Michael Harrison, the boy who ran to me when I came in, leans against me as he listens. I put my finger to my lips as some of the children try to talk to me. Dylan tries to run across the room and Louise catches him and brings him back. He squirms in her arms for a couple of minutes while the girls nearby shake their heads and frown at him. Then there is silence, each child listening intently as Mrs Knight's voice takes us to magical places on a flying carpet.

Moments later it is time for free play. Five of the children remain with me on the mat as we talk about the story and do drama. We act out little scenes. Doing house work, rocking a baby, playing in the park -things that the children know. Finally I fetch a tape recorder. I set it to play lively tunes for any children who want to dance on the mat. None of them do, though. They wander off to paint, or play in the sandpit. I pick up Mrs Knight's six-month old baby and carry her on my hip till she stops crying, practising for the day when I have my own children. I take her into the library corner where there are fewer kids. They always want to touch and cuddle her and it must be overwhelming for the baby, having twenty-four surrogate brothers and sisters every afternoon.

By the end of the day I am exhausted by the clamour of the four-year olds, and their constant energy. They sit on the mat, waiting as their parents arrive to take them home. Dylan is in tears again, convinced his mother won't come. He is the last child left. Louise reassures him while I tidy toys away, sweep up the spilled sand. Mrs Knight is changing her baby when Dylan's mother finally sweeps in, carrying a child and holding her toddler's hand. Finally things are ready for morning, for the two and three year olds. My thoughts turn to home - and Hermione.

* * * *

"Hermione. Come and eat, it's four o clock." The fire had gone out, but the house was still warm. I laid a tray of biscuits, fruit and milk as I heard her emerge, closing and locking her office door behind her.

"Sorry, I let the fire go out. I didn't mean to. I'll sort it out." She busied herself with newspaper and kindling, sticking her firelighter into the centre of the stack. Within seconds the flames were flickering merrily, ready for the larger logs. She's always been fantastic with fire.

"This is wonderful, thanks." She was gulping down her milk as if in a desperate hurry to get back to her work.

"How has your day been?" I asked.

"Just great. There's some new information available on self-dismantling space craft that I want to incorporate into a text-book. It's taking an awful lot of research and I'm going to have to speak to several scientists and astronauts over the next few weeks. Must get on - thanks for the food."

So much for intelligent conversation. I sat by the fire, trying to read a novel. When I woke it was nearly dark and the novel had slipped to the floor. Hermione's keyboard was clicking faster than you'd think it was possible to type. I switched the lights on and started preparing some vegetables for dinner, Cleo getting underfoot as she tried to rub her cheeks on my legs.

* * * *

In the morning I woke later than usual, to find Hermione already up. I'd just showered and changed into my work clothes when I heard her answer the door, and familiar gruff tones announced the presence of one of her old school friends. I quickly check my appearance, running a comb through my short black hair so that it lies flat and shiny. A quick smile and I decided I look good enough to walk into the nursery.

"Hi, Harry, it's not like you to be here so early," I said, walking through. It was almost too late for breakfast, so I took a packet of biscuits and a Mars bar out of the kitchen drawer. His friend, Ron was rocking back and forth on his heels in front of the fire. I looked warily at him. Strange things sometimes happened when Ron Weasley was about; he thought it was a great joke to put fireworks in the fire. Apart from that, perfectly nice chap.

"I'll see you later, Hermione," I called as I left. "I'm not coming back for lunch today." I couldn't help but wonder why they all looked so solemn. Harry's eyes were even greener than usual and he couldn't have shaved for a couple of days. The conversation had stopped as I entered, Harry running his hands nervously through his already wild hair. As I closed the door they started talking again. I must ask him what he does for a job, next time I see him. The way Hermione talks, he must be a spy or something, maybe that's why he's never said. The chocolate was gorgeously sweet, combining with the clear, sharp morning to jolt my brain into alertness.

For once I arrived at the nursery before any of the kids. SuEllen was still off with the flu. I knew Mrs Knight was hopeful that some of the children would stay at home as well. They want a sharp eye, these little ones, and they get frustrated easily if things don't go right.

Ten minutes after nursery started I looked up to see Dylan waving in the doorway. I walked over to talk to his mother. She was a tired-looking woman with a pleasant face and an Australian accent. "It's Tyler's first day. Can you stay with him, I know he likes you."

I took the little boy's hand as she shifted her red-haired baby on her hip. "Are you sure you don't want to stay? Parents are welcome to stay for their first week of nursery."

"I'd love to, but I can't. He's two and a half; he's been looking forward to this for years. Come on Dylan, don't touch that." Tyler looked up at me as she left, talking a stream of gibberish I couldn't quite catch. I bent down to his level. "What was that again?" He repeated it, but still I could only understand the odd syllable, not nearly enough to make sense of what he was saying.

He was reluctant to join with the other children in play, and I sat him at a table on his own with some paper and crayons, drawing dark looks from Mrs Knight who had her hands full with a large group of boisterous kids. I picked up her baby and brought him back to Tyler's table, so that she could sing some action songs without the child trying to crawl up her legs. Tyler addressed the baby by his sister's name most of the morning, chattering as he marked the paper in blue and black. I was beginning to understand some of what he said.

* * * *

Before lunch his mother came back to swap children. Dylan was scowling. He had a lunch with him, and we brought him into the backroom with us to eat it. With nearly an hour between sessions it wasn't normal for any children to stay at the nursery for that time - but it was obvious that Dylan's mother needed a rest from him. As soon as he was finished he tried to climb on to the table and was only persuaded not to when Mrs Knight suggested something about a treat for a good boy - after nursery. I was glad there was only one more day left in the week.

* * * *

I walked in and threw my bag down. I think I'd had enough of children that day to change my mind completely about wanting any of my own. It wasn't till I turned round that I realised Hermione still had company. The man who called to see us yesterday was standing in front of the fire, where Ron had been this morning, looking at me. He still wore the long black robes, and this time I noticed that he had a large hooked nose - just like my Dad's and dark, almost black, eyes. His hair wasn't tied back today and it hung limply over his shoulders. There was a hint of humour in his eyes as I glared at him and marched through to the kitchen, making up a tray for three before I called Hermione.

* * * *

"D'you know, that's the first time I've seen Severus Snape eat anything outside of school. And I've known him a long time." Hermione ran her fingers teasingly through my hair as I leaned back against her legs.

"He's a bit weird, isn't he?" I asked. "I mean, that long hair, on a man of his age." Crookshanks was on Hermione's lap, his paws resting on the back of my head. The cat door slammed a minute before Cleo arrived, rubbing up against my arms and purring.

"He's looked like that for as long as I've known him. 'Cept, those grey hairs on his brow, they only appeared a few years ago. When he got Harry out of a heap of trouble at school."

"What was Harry up to? I thought Ron was the mischief maker."

"Harry's just as bad. It's just Ron likes to play hero and take all the blame. That would be - eight years ago now. When we were all seventeen. Harry sneaked out of school on his own and Snape went after him, rescued him just in time. He would have died."

"How come? Was he trying to run away?"

"Old quarry. Dangerous places. How was your day? You look tired."

"Just the usual. Kids. How old is Severus?"

"How old? Forty four or forty five I'd say."

"Same age as my Mum, then."

"You do look tired. Let's go to bed. Goodness knows, I'll be busy enough tomorrow."

* * * *

I wake up, snug under the duvet. It is cool but not too cold in the room. Hermione is breathing softly, mumbling in her sleep. Her T-shirt has got rucked up from her turning, as it always does, and I lay my hand on her stomach, tickling lightly with the tips of my fingers so that she shivers, waking up. I lean over to kiss her forehead before throwing the covers back. I need time to prepare, to meet the new day. By the time I have showered she has lit the fire and changed into a very short dress, hardly more than a negligee.

"You're not expecting visitors, I hope."

"No. This is just how I feel today. More's the pity you can't stay, it was your fault after all."

She curled up in the armchair with a book, distracting me from my breakfast. Tomorrow, I promise silently, to both her and myself. Tomorrow there'll be no kids and we can stay in bed. Her hip bone showed through the thin red fabric, reminding me how it felt each time I passed my hand over it. I hastily left. There's only so much temptation a girl can stand.

* * * *

"Hi Jane." Harry took my coat as soon as I stepped inside, sliding the door shut on the cold afternoon. The whole crowd was there again - Harry, Ron, Ron's little sister Ginny, and Severus Snape. I was glad to see that Hermione was neatly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and just a little irritated that the living room looked as though it hadn't been tidied for a week. There were books and papers and even a couple of mugs lying all over the place. Crookshanks sat on the table, idly chewing the leaves off a Dracaena marginata pot plant. I automatically headed for the kitchen while Harry hung up my coat and bag.

* * * *

"Harry, pass me that paper again," I heard Hermione say as I turned the oven on and set some mini-fruit pies on a baking sheet. Every-one else sat silently round the table while Hermione read the letter she'd asked for, Ginny chewing her lip nervously. I leaned on the counter, watching them, while I waited for the pies to warm through. Hermione's friends were like this sometimes - warm and relaxed most of the time but then there'd be a frantic phone call and Hermione would be gone. Or, like now, one of them would turn up in a state of high tension and if Hermione wasn't there to sort things out immediately... Last time Ron had had to wait ten minutes for her to return home he'd worn a track in the carpet, pacing back and forth.

"Well, it looks as though we can't do anything yet," she was saying.

"You mean we've just got to let it happen?"

"That's disgusting. What if some-one does get injured because we do nothing?"

"They're not threatening to injure anyone. In fact, they are entirely within the law at present."

"That's legal?" Harry was almost shouting at her. "Well it bloody well shouldn't be."

"Sit down, Potter. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do..." Harry sat down heavily. I'd never seen him like this before, it was a bit scary.

"The fact is..." Severus was speaking so quietly I could barely hear him. "...they are entitled to do what they like behind closed doors as long as it harms no-one else. If we rush in, as you are about to suggest, Potter, all that will happen is that they will become even more discreet. It is essential that they believe we are happy with the status quo."

"Severus is right, Harry, Ron. If we act too soon we'll make things worse."

I turned round to take the pies out of the oven and lay out some glasses. While they continued to talk I buttered some bread for sandwiches, laying strips of cold meat between the slices. I nibbled a little pastry as it flaked on to my plate - I was starving, and no doubt they were too.

"What do you think, Ginny?" Harry asked.

"I think - Hermione and Severus are right, but I want to know how we are going to keep an eye on them. This is going to be really dangerous and the Ministry..., well, you know Percy. He won't give any information out."

"So my own sister is against us," Ron was scowling, as I set the tray on the table and pushed Crookshanks off.

"Wow, Jane, you're an angel." Harry reached for a plate as I lifted my own plate and soda off the tray and went to sit by the fire.

"I guess, if that's the way it is, we have to wait. At least this time it doesn't involve mu... er, innocent people."

"That's fine." Hermione was chewing the end of a pen, as though it tasted better than the sandwiches that lay untouched on her plate. "But we do have to appoint individuals to keep track of the families involved. No Harry, you're not going anywhere near Malfoy - nor you either Ron. They'd really smell a rat if they saw you."

"Potter and Weasley have an unfortunate tendency towards violence. I think they would both be better employed at the Ministry."

"Severus!" Hermione's tone was sharp, but as Severus Snape was sitting with his back to me I couldn't see his reaction.

"I might be able to get an inside on the Malfoy's. Draco - that is, he's suggested a couple of times..."

"You are NOT going to go out with Malfoy. That scumbag, how do you know..?"

"Silence! Weasley, there is no need for that sort of outburst. Miss Weasley, are you sure you will be able to do this?"

Ginny was blushing under her red hair.

"Certain. I mean, I've turned him down a couple of times already, but he's obviously still keen."

"That is curious. Miss Weasley, I will discuss this with Professor Dumbledore and if it is approved you will receive instruction. You must understand that approaching Malfoy Manor, regardless of your intentions, is extremely dangerous at present."

"That's settled then, thanks Ginny." Hermione was glaring at Ron and Harry. They both looked totally dismayed at the turn things had taken. That Draco fellow must be really horrible. "There are still several other families involved, and some of them may be hard to track down."

"If you will excuse us, Miss Granger, I think we should consult with the other members of the Order before we take this any further. Our next meeting should be at headquarters, I will let you know when." Severus Snape collected and folded the papers they had been looking at as the others got up.

"Thanks for the food, Jane. That was delicious."

"No problem, Harry. Any time, I like cooking. See you, Ginny." Cleo purred from the place she had claimed on my lap. Ginny waved as she slid the door shut in Crookshanks face. He turned away, disgruntled, and rolled on his back with a ball of wool he'd grabbed from under a chair.

"You need to watch out Jane, I think Harry's sweet on you," said Hermione, sitting down opposite me with a writing pad and pen.

"Are you going to disillusion him?" I asked, turning round. "Oh, they've gone already. They walk fast, don't they?"

"I'll be in touch, Hermione." Severus was leaving. "Thankyou Miss..."

"Just call me Jane. Please."

"Thankyou, Jane. I appreciate your cooking." He touched his hand to his forehead and left, the long cloak swishing.

* * * *

"What was all that about? Harry is a spy, isn't he?"

"Sort of. He works for the government."

"And the others too? That was just too weird. Is Draco really ugly, or just horrible?"

"Ugly? No, I wouldn't call him that. Snobbish, self-centred, malicious - yes. Harry and Ron hated him at school, and they just can't let some things go. Ginny probably wants to prove herself. Ron and Harry treat her as if she is still eleven - it takes a lot to shock some-one out of their idea of who a person is."

"She won't put herself in danger though, will she?" I hoped Hermione would tell me no, of course she wouldn't, but I knew Ginny a bit too well for that. If there was danger around, she would head straight for it. And Ginny as a femme fatale - I pitied the boy, but I felt really scared for her too, if he was as horrible as they said.

"You know Ginny." Hermione had already filled a page with neat handwriting, and turned it over. I did know Ginny. She was a year older than me and we'd spent a lot of time together - with and without Hermione. She was a private person, but in spite or because of that we understood each other. She probably guessed how it was with me and Hermione. Neither of the boys had noticed.

Hermione was sitting with her legs tucked up, gazing at her writing. Cleo jumped down and darted away, crashing through the cat door as I reached for the place mat I was currently destroying before it was even made. It looked like a mess of tangled thread at the moment, the pattern just starting to show in the first part of the cording. My fingers knotted and wrapped the cords automatically as I watched her, reading. To say that Ginny was a private person - well, she was. But there were unfathomed depths in Hermione, and today's meeting obviously related to the side of her life that she didn't talk about. Her school days must have been incredibly exciting, but neither she nor her friends were prepared to talk much about the seven years they'd spent together at a Scottish boarding school.

I met her nearly two years ago. I'd just finished university, achieving an unclassified pass in my arts degree, and immediately took a job as trainee nursery assistant. Two or three months after I started work I bumped into an old friend from college who invited me to take lunch with her, introducing me to her companion as a former neighbour.

"Hermione?" I'd said. "That's a really pretty name." She smiled, her eyes glowing with pleasure. Wisps of hair escaped over her forehead, giving her a soft, girlish appearance. We spent half an hour together, and I lost touch with my friend after that. Sometimes I'd pass Hermione about town though, and we'd smile and talk to each other. I discovered that her father was my dentist; he'd been very exasperated with me when I turned up needing fillings, having not seen a dentist since the last time my Mum forced me to go as a teenager. We laughed about this, and arranged to go clubbing.

That night changed a lot of things for me. I'd been a little embarrassed the first few times I saw her. I mean, I hadn't really understood then, I just knew that occasionally I'd see a gorgeous girl and stare, without realising. In college I hung around with the boys, because they were fun to be with and girls just talked about make-up, and boys. And if they saw a pretty girl they'd make catty remarks. The boys didn't, they just looked, same as I did. When I first saw Hermione I knew that she was my type, she was perfect. She seemed so alive. I was scared that the attraction might show, but she was so friendly that after a minute of being in her company I would forget about being embarrassed.

We went to the club and listened to the music and watched the other girls all dressed up and painted. Trying to attract a male with their hard faces and false smiles. A few boys stopped to talk, then left to try their luck elsewhere when we both refused the offered drinks. Near the end of the evening we headed for the dance floor. Hermione is a very good dancer. We danced together and then I accepted a dance from a slim, dark-haired bloke and she danced with his friend. The boys left after two dances, bored with our conversation no doubt, and we danced the last waltz together. And then I realised that she was like me. I asked her straight out if she was gay and she said yes. So I arranged to see her again.

Her parents know. That's it. I think Ginny might have guessed and as for my parents - I daren't tell them. They think Hermione's just a flatmate. It was funny going to her parents' house after we moved in together, and them knowing, but they were really nice. No relationship is easy, but it's been better far than I would ever have dreamed.

Three days before this I was looking forward to a nice, uncomplicated weekend. We'd sleep late, go swimming, go to a club. On Sunday I would cook for Hermione's parents and her little sister - my family is always invited as well, but they never come. Ginny might pop round on Sunday morning and we'd sit around the fire and gossip and laugh. Hermione would disappear into her office and work furiously on her writing, unless I managed to entice her away. Nearly every weekend I manage.

Now things have changed. She is staring into the fire, but she looks as tense as a tightly-coiled spring. Since Severus Snape turned up on Wednesday morning her mind has been far away, on matters of probably national importance. I'm glad I'm not involved -how I wish my Hermione wasn't either.

* * * *

"Is that the time! I've got a meeting in London in an hour. Oh Jane, I'm sorry to leave you." I threw my arms out, pretending not to care as she got up.

"No that's fine. I'll see you later. Oh - and put some clothes on before you go." The light was streaming through the bedroom windows. It was late, closer to lunch-time than breakfast. No way was Hermione going to get to London in an hour, it was probably a code name for some place in town. Water splashed in the bathroom as I lay back and closed my eyes again, imagining she was still with me.

At fifteen minutes to twelve she left, walking briskly. I looked away for a second and when I looked back she'd gone. She must have started running to reach the corner so fast. I looked around in dismay at the mess of books, papers, balls of wool lying about, and started picking things up. Crookshanks lay on his cushion purring. Hermione had said she might bring Ginny back, and I'd decided to make something really nice for a late lunch. Not that I don't think Ginny and the boys get well fed, it's just pleasant to feed people who appreciate it.

* * * *

It was nearly three o clock when Hermione returned. I'd decided to do a whirlwind clean as it would have taken until dark if I scrubbed everything. I was lying on the floor reading, lunch nearly ready in the oven and hoping like anything that the boys came too, because we'd be eating macaroni cheese for the next three days if they didn't, when they all turned up at the door. I turned the radio down as they walked in, glowing from the cold. Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Harry - and Severus Snape. He nodded in acknowledgement to me, standing silently while the others talked. Ron was obviously still unhappy with Ginny. Harry helped me pull the table out and set it, causing Hermione to raise her eyebrows at me and say something behind her hand to Ron. I winked back, watching as Ron's jaw dropped and he stared as his friend.

"You're going to have to tell them," I whispered to her as I filled her plate.

"No, this is far too much fun to watch," she grinned. "He hasn't been smitten like this for at least six months." I tried to avoid looking at Harry as I sat down with my own plate. Ron kept staring at his friend, and then at me, it was getting quite disconcerting. Knowing Hermione, she was just about to stir the situation up even more. In fact, she looked meaningfully at Ron and opened her mouth only a fraction of a second before Harry fell backwards off his chair.

"My cactus," shrieked Hermione, jumping up to rescue it. Harry picked himself up, rubbing his head. Severus didn't appear to notice that anything had happened.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Harry, glaring at Ron - and kicking him under the table.

"What was that for?"

"You know."

"I didn't..." Both boys looked at Severus, then looked down at their plates and started eating again, furrowing their brows and throwing little questioning looks at each other, and Severus. By the time Hermione had repotted her cactus and returned to the table everything was calm. They'd forgotten to stare at me, much to my relief.

"I'm sorry we've got to leave so soon, Jane. We've work to do - and nearly getting caught up in student riots didn't help."

"There's riots in town? At the university?"

"Hyde Park, actually."

"Look, I know you haven't been to London, there's no point in pretending. It's a three hour drive from here," I said. Hermione shot an annoyed look at Harry, who looked puzzled.

"Yeah, I just meant, I didn't know how much Hermione had told you."

"Well, trying to convince me that she's been to London and back, that just isn't funny."

"Right. We'll be going then. See you, Jane."

"Oh, he is sweet on you," Hermione giggled. "This is so funny."

Ginny and Severus were still talking in hushed tones at the table. Severus took his leave shortly after. Ginny looked pale when she joined us by the fire.

"You're going then?" asked Hermione. Crookshanks was curled up on her foot - she hadn't moved it since he sat down on it five minutes before.

"Yes. This had better work. I don't want to throw myself away on that creep for nothing. Do you know, Snape says no-one really knows whether Malfoy Junior is actually involved, or if it's just his Dad."

"You're not..."

"No, I'm not going to touch his Dad. Not if the rest of the world depended on it." She shuddered, and tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"Are you going to be safe?" I asked. She looked so fragile, the fire glow lighting one side of her face.

"There's only two certainties in life, birth..."

"...and death," Hermione finished.

"I'll look after myself. If anything happens, just think, I won't have to listen to 'no Ginny, you're too young,' 'no Ginny, you're a girl' any more."

"There are fates worse than death, don't you think?" I said.

"Jane! We don't need to think about every horrible thing. Ginny knows how to defend herself." Ginny had gone even whiter, but her mouth was set. There was no changing her mind once she'd decided something.

"When is Ron expecting?" I asked, to change the subject.

"Five weeks. It's her first baby, I think he's getting quite worried. She's not, she's as calm as ever and of course Mum is over there all the time, fussing."

"Isn't it nice for Luna to have a mother again," said Hermione, smiling. "I feel sorry for people like Harry, with no parents or only one. They miss out on so much." Crookshanks jumped off her foot, stalking up to Cleo, who had just walked in and batting her across the nose. The pair of them rolled over, squealing in a play-fight.

'That'll change things for them," I said, trying to change the subject again. "I'd love to see Ron's baby. Do you think it'll have red hair, like he does?"

"Definitely," said Hermione and Ginny together.

"A Weasley without red hair," said Hermione, "it just wouldn't happen."

"Snape is behaving really out of character recently, isn't he? I mean, usually he comes in, gives his report and is gone again. He doesn't hang around with us youngsters."

"I think he's rather fond of Jane's cooking. Can't say I blame him."

I racked my mind for something to say that would finally change the subject to something comfortable, but found nothing and got up to clear the table instead.

* * * *

"Good morning Tyler."

He smiled innocently at me as I took his hand and led him to the mat. The weekend had turned out not so bad. Hermione's family had highly praised the Sunday roast, and laughed and smiled their way through the afternoon as if there wasn't a care in their world. Watching the expressions of Hermione's parents was hilarious. They'd decided when we first moved in together that although they were very happy about the relationship, her sister wasn't to know 'just in case'. When they come to visit I watch them communicating with a raised eyebrow, a small smile, with each other and us, and their other daughter becoming increasingly more puzzled as she notices these little signals. They can't bring themselves to pretend in front of her, they just say nothing out loud.

After they left I called home, and found my Mum on the other end of the phone. She sounded tired, complaining that her health was poor again. She talked for fifteen minutes before she had to go, and I put the phone down wondering what was really happening. Considering that it was six weeks since I'd managed to find someone in to answer the phone, we don't tell each other a lot.

I hold my hands up like Mrs Knight is doing, trying to encourage Tyler to copy me. "This is my mammy," waving a thumb, "This is my daddy-o," and on through all five fingers. Tyler puts his hands on his head. I point at Mrs Knight, she is telling a story about a family with her 'finger-people'. He puts his head against my knee and starts to drift off to sleep.

I wonder what my sisters and brothers are doing. We live in six different towns, ranging from Aberdeen to Cornwall, doing our own thing and rarely seeing each other. The one in Cornwall works on a farm, that's my oldest brother. The next one lives in Aberdeen, designing magazine covers and painting in his spare time. They never got on, I think that's why they live so far apart. I'm the third, and the others are likewise scattered, doing everything from glass-making to accounting to laboratory assistant. None of us are married, that's why I sometimes wonder if I'm not the only one in the family - gay, I mean. Nearly all my friends my age are married or in a serious relationship. Mum hated every boy who showed an interest in me - she'd scare them away if they dared call at the house. And then she had the cheek to yell at me for not showing an interest in boys - I couldn't have been more than fifteen then. I wonder if she realised back then, long before I had any idea. She'd flip out if I told her she was right.

I nudge Tyler gently, but he is sound asleep as Mrs Knight finishes her story, so I carry him over to the library corner and put a blanket over him. The baby sister probably wakes him and Dylan up through the night. In the last two years I've seen over and over again children that were previously placid, starting to misbehave. Often it's a teething brother or sister interrupting their sleep.

Nearly an hour later he wakes up crying, and SuEllen goes over to get him. I am supervising a painting session, one of my favourite jobs. The kids love it too. They choose whatever colours they like and paint horses, dinosaurs, whales, cars and people. One little boy is into dragons. He has at least twenty large coloured spots on his paper and he tells me that each of them is a dragon. He even knows the names of the different types, according to their colours. There's a green one and a black one and a blue, and a red one he calls a Chinese Fireball. Last of all he paints a little black speck in the sky.

"Is that another dragon?"

"No, that's Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?"

"My Dad told me, he flew like this, and this," his little arms swish through the air as he shows me, "and he beat the dragon and took its egg."

"He took a dragon's egg? That wasn't a very nice thing to do."

"My Dad said. He told me the whole story. And then he went underwater..."

The little voice rambles on. You'll be telling me he nearly got himself killed in a quarry next. I remember Hermione mentioning something about that. Goodness knows what TV programs he's been watching to get mixed up in his stories like that. We don't have a television at home. I sometimes wish we did, so that I would know what the kids are talking about. Hermione says it's a waste of time, watching the box.

* * * *

Wednesday morning is my time, to relax. Harry and Ron had popped in most evenings, but there's been no sign of Ginny or Severus. Now here he was, sitting bolt upright in Hermione's armchair while I lounged in front of the fire, reading and doodling idly on a piece of paper. I'd told Hermione about the kid that was always painting dragons, and she'd showed a keen interest.

"He's right, you know. Harry did a project on dragons during our fourth year at school. What was the kid's name?"

"Cade. Cade Jordan."

"Little black kid?"

"Yeah, he's pretty dark. I never really notice these things."

Now Hermione was in her office, rummaging about among her books and papers.

"Here it is," she said, returning finally. "That might help her understand." The book was leather bound and hand-stitched. Severus opened it, the pages rustling like leaves in a wood - or something. I looked out of the window to see if the wind had picked up, but the noise stopped when he closed the book.

"I'll pass this on to her. Some of the protective charms are probably described here."

Protective charms? It wasn't the first time I'd heard apparent references to the occult, but Hermione and her friends were such ordinary, straightforward people that I didn't believe she's ever had dealings of that nature.

"Is Ginny alright?" I asked. Hermione snorted.

"As alright as she's ever going to be with that idiot. He took the bait no problem, I hear they're practically living together already."

"Draco Malfoy is not an idiot. You would do well to remember that, Hermione. We are keeping close tabs on the situation."

"She wouldn't do anything silly, would she?" I asked. Please, just tell me she's safe at home and it was all a dream - you'd make my day, you know.

"Ginny? Only if she wanted to."

Even Severus looked concerned. "There are members of the Order close by at all times. As soon as there is a problem we'll get her out."

"If she'll come, and if she's not actually inside the Manor by that stage. No-one can enter the Manor without a member of the family - nor leave it either if they don't want them to leave. Ginny's worse than Harry in some ways."

"Meaning...?" I obviously wasn't going to get an answer. I seemed to hear little hints about Harry's schooldays all the time, as if he'd been some-one really important. Yet no-one seemed inclined to tell me what actually happened. Cleo reached up to nudge my face, demanding attention. She purred as I rubbed the top of her head.

* * * *

"I got a bruvver and a baby sister. I was happy before I had a bruvver and sister."

"Just look at that grumpy face. Dylan, can I see a smile? Big smile, like this." I use my fingers to stretch my mouth wide.

"I grumpy. I don' wanna be happy."

"Have it your way then, Dylan. Can you draw a house?"

"Of course I can draw a house. An' a car. And monsters. Tyler scared of monsters."

"Show me."

Nearly the end of the week! I hoped Hermione would be home when I got there, she seemed to have almost forgotten about the textbook she was supposed to be writing. A little smile was sneaking onto Dylan's face. Engrossed in his drawing, he was forgetting to push his lower lip out and annoy the other children. I walked over to the library corner to sit with the children as they listened to SuEllen read, then fetched the new girl and young Michael Harrison from the sandpit to wash their hands and face. It is nearly time to sit on the mat and sing a song before the parents come.

I stood at the door watching the children leave. The new girl left her mother and ran back towards me with her arms outstretched. Surprised, I bent down to hug her.

"What did you do that for?" asked one of the other boys.

"She's my teacher and I love her."

"I love her too and I don't cuddle her."

I can't keep from smiling. The pair of them have just made my weekend.

* * * *

I was still smiling when I walked in, hoping to tell Hermione what the children had said. She wasn't alone.

"Hello, Severus," I said, going into the kitchen to wash my hands. Once again, I prepared a simple tray for three, to keep us going until dinner. He sat opposite Hermione at the table, going over a large stack of papers.

"Your charm book was more than a little useful. Professor Dumbledore has given it to Ginny and I've been investigating some of the suggestions for myself. Most interesting."

He swept his hair back behind his ear, an action that startled me because it exactly mirrored the gesture I was so familiar with whenever Hermione was stressed. She pored over a thick roll of paper, deciphering spidery hieroglyphics.

"Now, these traces appear to suggest... Incompetent chap, Creevey."

"You can't be everywhere. If you were doing Creevey's job you wouldn't have time to teach."

"Perhaps not. Yet it is irksome to trust such a sensitive science as forensics to a twenty-three year old who barely scraped a pass in his Potions NEWT."

Hermione glanced sharply at him. "Thanks, Jane. I'm sorry; we might be a while yet."

They worked on in silence. I wrapped and knotted the cords of the nearly-finished place mat, looking at the black cloak hanging up beside the door and wondering why Severus wore such an outlandish garment. It suited him, and no doubt it was warm too, but he didn't strike me as the sort of person who liked being stared at. Hermione had a similar garment in our wardrobe, but I'd never seen her wearing it.

Eventually Severus Snape left, and Hermione and I walked into town to buy takeaways and eat them in the park, looking at the coloured lights on the main street and the cars sweeping past on the motorway below. I told Hermione how my day at work had been, and she listened and talked about the things we saw, but said nothing of her day. The stars were out in their millions and the frost crackled underfoot when we finally turned for home.

* * * *

Falling into bed that night, I turned to her and realised something was different. Not in her, in me. When she touched me, I wondered how it would be if she were a man. And then I buried the thought. She is my own beautiful Hermione.