Chapter Text
The Battle of Hogwarts changed the course of Hermione’s life. She survived, which was better than she’d expected, but she didn’t come out unchanged.
When she’d been captured and tortured at Malfoy Manor, Fenrir Greyback had been there.
“You thought you were so clever, sending your parents away.” His twisted grin made her shiver. “You didn’t think we’d be watching them? Waiting for them? A member of my pack was waiting for them at the airport. He told them he was their travel agent. Those stupid Muggles just went with him.” He chuckled, a low, wet sound. “I had fun with them. For being a little thing, Helen put up a hell of a fight. Too lean for a good meal, though. Your father, on the other hand—”
Hermione spat directly in his face.
“You little BITCH!” He pulled his hand back to strike her.
“Ah, ah, ah! This one is my toy.” Bellatrix grinned, stepping between them. “Go find another bone to chew on. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you have her when I’m done.”
“Fuck you, Bella,” Greyback snarled, stomping away.
That day, Hermione swore that she would make Greyback pay for what he did. During the battle, she found her opportunity. Blinded by pure rage, she charged straight toward him. He’d cornered Lavender Brown and was preparing to strike.
“SECTUMSEMPRA!”
Greyback staggered backward, blood spurting from the sudden gashes across his chest. He let out a furious snarl. “It’s the little Mudblood bitch. You’re mine now!”
She should’ve realized they picked this day for a reason. The full moon was out, and Greyback began to transform.
“LAVENDER! RUN!” Hermione shrieked, hitting Greyback with a Stunner.
But he had more control over his shifting than most werewolves, and the transformation happened rapidly. Shaking off the spell, he let out a bone-chilling howl and charged. Hermione began flinging curses at him, but the beast simply plowed through them. Before she could even process the distance closing, Greyback pounced.
She screamed as his claws ripped into her cheek. Then, she felt his teeth sink deep into her side. Her last conscious thought was a desperate hope that Harry would defeat Voldemort before he realized she was dead.
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Contrary to what most believed, Severus Snape had not died after being attacked by Nagini—thanks entirely to the efforts of one Miss Hermione Granger. Ever since Arthur Weasley's attack two years prior, she’d been working tirelessly on an all-purpose antivenom, extensively studying healing and magical snake bites.
The moment Voldemort departed the Shrieking Shack, Hermione had rushed forward. Snape, believing the end was nigh, had focused entirely on giving Potter his memories. Then, suddenly, a burning liquid was poured down his throat, and he felt a warm, firm pressure sealing the wounds on his neck.
“Go, I’ll stay with him,” Hermione ordered Ron and Harry, who quickly departed. “Please stay still, Professor. I’ve given you an antivenom that’ll take a few minutes to kick in. I’m going to heal your throat, alright?”
Why was she doing this?! He’d never shown her an ounce of kindness. Shouldn’t she be running off to save the day with her partners in crime? She was wasting valuable time healing him, and if he could have spoken, he would have told her exactly that. He’d never planned on surviving this war. He’d had a part to play, and he’d done it. The end.
But no, the swotty little Gryffindor had come to his rescue.
“Alright, I’ve knitted the flesh. Please try to resist yelling. Rest for a few more minutes and then you’re alright to leave. I have to go.” She turned back toward the tunnel, her face pale with grim determination. “I know you’re already planning to berate me as soon as you’re able. You have to remain alive to do that. Be safe.” Then, she was gone.
The next time he saw her, the foolish girl was charging straight toward Fenrir Greyback. He knew what the monster had done to her parents, and he could see she was entirely blinded by rage. Sure enough, she stupidly tried to take on a fully transformed werewolf single-handedly.
To Snape, it felt like watching in slow motion. He was too far away to intercept. He watched in horror as Greyback took her to the ground, clawing her face, before sinking his teeth into her side and shaking her body like a dog with a toy.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!” Snape screamed.
A blast of blinding green light struck the werewolf, and the beast collapsed dead. Snape rushed over, dropping to his knees beside Hermione to feel for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Gods damn the rest of the fight; he was saving her life. He gently scooped her up and Apparated directly to his potions classroom. After doing what he could to stabilize her bleeding, he realized she needed more intensive care than he could provide. He took her straight to St. Mungo’s, where she remained --unconscious for two days.
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Pain. That was all Hermione was aware of when she woke. She was somewhere far too bright, and every inch of her body was screaming in agony. She squinted against the light, struggling to push herself up.
“Please don’t, Miss Granger,” a voice she didn’t expect to hear replied quietly. “What do you need?”
“Water,” she managed to croak. She kept her eyes shut tight; it felt like the harsh light was drilling straight into her brain.
“Open.” Severus Snape’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle beside her bed. She opened her mouth, and he carefully poured a few drops onto her parched tongue. “That’s all I can give you for now. We must ensure you can keep it down. Can you open your eyes?”
“Too bright,” she groaned.
A moment later, the piercing brightness vanished, replaced by a soft shadow. She slowly opened her eyes and was startled by how crisp and clear everything looked. She’d spent years reading textbooks by candlelight and actually required glasses—which she had stubbornly refused to wear. Now, everything was perfectly sharp. But why?
She turned her head and saw Snape sitting in a chair beside her bed. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed broken glass. Unable to speak much, she looked at the bandage wrapped around his neck, then pointed to her own, raising her eyebrows in a silent question.
“Healing. You saved my life. I don’t have the slightest idea why, but you were successful. I’ll have a scar, but that is all.” He looked away, focusing on the floorboards. “Do you remember what happened?”
She shook her head blindly.
“Greyback was attacking you. I killed him. But… you were not unharmed.”
Hermione absorbed his words, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. “No…” she whispered.
“You’ve been infected. I am sorry.” He kept his gaze averted. “I find it best to deliver bad news all at once, so I shall continue. As you have no known magical relatives, and I pledged my protection to you during the war, I am now your legal guardian.”
“What?”
“Every minor in the Order was assigned a protector in the event of their parents' deaths. Most had family within the ranks. Neither you nor I had magical relatives, so Albus assigned me to you. It was a binding legal agreement. Should the worst happen… you fall under my care.”
She stared at him in utter shock. “Why would you agree to that?!” she croaked.
Snape sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Obviously, I never thought it would actually come to this, but I knew it was a possibility. While I do find you to be an annoying, know-it-all Gryffindor menace, you were a child fighting in a war you never should have been in. Legally, you are still a minor. So, until you turn eighteen, I am your guardian. I imagine you are as ecstatic about the arrangement as I am.”
Hermione snorted. Then, the snort dissolved into a breathless, hysterical laugh. “I think I’m having a mental breakdown.” She laughed, moving her hand to wipe away a stray tear, but her fingers brushed thick gauze. The laughter died in her throat. Bandages. All over her face. “No…”
“I’m sorry,” Snape said quietly, entirely devoid of sarcasm.
“I want a mirror.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea. You are heavily bandaged.”
“Give me a mirror.” She snarled, the sound carrying a strange, feral edge that made them both freeze.
“I will not, Miss Granger. You are not going to remove your dressings just to wallow in your new appearance. Forget it.”
“I’ll see it eventually,” she grumbled, crossing her arms defensively.
“Eventually, yes. But for now, you need to rest. I shall fetch the healer for a pain draught.”
Sleep took her quickly after she downed the potion, and she gladly let the darkness wipe away the reality of what she had become.
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When Harry hadn’t seen Hermione during the aftermath of the battle, he’d assumed she was with Snape or Ron. He staggered over to Ron, hugging his friend tightly as he looked around the crowded Great Hall. “Where’s ’Mione?”
“I… I don’t know.” Ron’s eyes were bloodshot and watery. “No one’s seen her.”
“I did,” a female voice spoke quietly from behind them.
They turned to see Lavender Brown standing there, tears streaming down her pale face. “She saved my life.”
“Lavender?” Ron stepped toward her.
“Greyback had me cornered. He was going to kill me. But she… she…” Lavender dissolved into heavy sobs, and Ron instinctively pulled her into a hug. “She distracted him! She told me to run! I saw him transforming and I saw him attack her… I’m so sorry!” she wailed.
All Harry could hear was the sudden, deafening roar of blood pounding in his ears. He was vaguely aware of people talking to him. He felt hands gripping his arms, lifting him, and only then did he realize he had collapsed onto the stone floor.
She was dead. Hermione was dead.
His lungs refused to work. He needed these people to let go of him. He began thrashing wildly, sobbing, until a flash of red crossed his vision right before the darkness claimed him.
“HERMIONE!” Harry bolted upright in a hospital bed, chest heaving.
“She is alive.”
He whipped his head around to see Severus Snape standing in the doorway. The man was still covered in dried blood. “She was not unharmed. But she is alive.”
Harry swung his legs over the bed, his sudden movement setting off a chorus of magical monitoring alarms. Healers rushed into the room, and in the chaos, Snape disappeared. Harry's last conscious thought before the sedative took effect was a mantra of pure relief: She’s alive.
The next time Harry woke, he saw a blur of red hair and sat up quickly. “Ron?”
“No. I must look pretty rough if you’re mixing us up.” Ginny smiled weakly from the bedside chair.
“Where’s Ron?”
“He’s down the hall. He’s fine. Harry, I’m so glad you’re okay—”
“Hermione. What about Hermione?!”
Ginny’s face fell instantly. “She’s alive,” she whispered, looking away. “But she’s… different.”
“I want to see her.”
“Harry, you have to rest!”
“I’m going to stand up, and I want you to silence those bloody machines. I don’t know where my wand is.”
“Harry, no!”
“I have to see her!” He stood up, and the alarms blared to life again. Rage flooded his veins, and with a burst of accidental magic, he cast a wandless Silencing Charm on the devices. Steadying himself against the bedside table, he grabbed his glasses, shoved them onto his face, and marched into the hallway.
“Harry, stop!” Ginny hurried after him. “She’s resting!”
“Harry!” He saw Ron rushing toward him from across the ward. “She’s okay, mate. She’s just resting.”
“I want to see her!”
“Snape won’t even let me see her yet,” Ron complained, throwing his hands up. “I don’t know why he’s calling the shots. The bloody bat is guarding her door like a gargoyle.”
“Because she requires undisturbed rest, Mr. Weasley.”
The deep, silk-over-gravel voice of Severus Snape made Ron jump. Snape stood at the end of the corridor, looking exhausted but formidable. “She was seriously injured. She is in a medically induced slumber for a few days while the worst of her trauma is managed.”
“Is it true, then? Is she…?” Ron trailed off, unable to say the word.
“Alive. And that is all I will say on the matter,” Snape snapped.
“Her parents. Someone needs to find her parents!” Harry felt a sudden wave of panic. She’d sent them away and wiped their memories!
Snape paused, a flash of genuine confusion crossing his dark eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“Her parents. They’re Muggles. She sent them away for protection—she told me that. Australia, I think?”
Snape’s expression shifted, looking shockingly stricken. “I was not aware that you did not know.”
“Didn’t know what?” Harry demanded, his heart hammering.
Snape finally met his eyes. “Her parents were killed by Fenrir Greyback.”
Harry felt his legs wobble beneath him again.
“This is exactly why you should be in bed!” Ginny chastised, catching his arm. Snape flicked his wand, summoning a nearby chair, and Harry collapsed into it.
“What… what happened to them?” Harry whispered.
“Why didn’t she tell us?!” Ron asked, looking hurt. “We would’ve been there for her! She never said a word!”
“Mr. Weasley, when has Miss Granger ever willingly admitted when something was wrong? When she was in pain? Never. She likely believed Mr. Potter had enough burdens to bear and would foolishly blame himself for the tragedy.”
“I knew something was wrong,” Harry whispered, staring at his hands. “I just thought it was the torture at the manor…”
“I imagine she planned to inform you eventually. Regardless, I am now her legal guardian until she turns eighteen. I was assigned to her by the Order. You all had assigned guardians. You two were assigned to Mrs. Weasley.”
“But not Hermione?” Harry asked. “Why?”
Snape fixed him with a blank, unreadable stare. “That would be a question for her. Molly declined when Albus asked. Neither Miss Granger or myself had magical relatives, so I was assigned to her.” Snape checked his pocket watch. “Can you walk, Mr. Potter?”
“Can I see her? Please?” Harry begged. “I just… I need to see her. When no one knew where she was…”
Snape was silent for a long moment, then gave a stiff nod. “Just you. And only from the doorway. She is highly sensitive to external stimuli right now, and if you get too close, I am worried she will react poorly.”
“So it’s true, then,” Ron muttered, looking toward the lycanthropy ward.
“Come with me, Mr. Potter.”
Snape turned and strode down the hall. Harry struggled to keep up on his shaking legs. He noticed the signs for the specialized lycanthropy unit and felt a sickening knot form in his stomach. Snape led him to the very end of the corridor, where two Aurors stood guard outside a private door. They stepped aside, nodding respectfully to Snape.
Snape cracked the door open, allowing Harry to look inside.
Harry let out a ragged sob of relief. He just needed to see the rise and fall of her chest. He needed to know she was breathing. But then, a soft, pained whimper came from the bed, and Snape’s instructions vanished from Harry’s mind. He broke away and ran inside.
“Potter!” Snape hissed, lunging forward to grab his collar. “Was it the simplicity of the instructions that somehow made them incomprehensible?!”
“Harry…” a weak voice whispered from the bed.
“Hermione!”
Snape released Harry’s collar, and the boy dropped to his knees beside her bed, instantly grasping her hand between both of his. “I’m here. I’m here, ’Mione.”
Snape took in the sight of them, letting out a long, defeated sigh. He backed out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, turning to the Aurors. “Only myself and Mr. Potter are permitted inside.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hermione drifted in a comfortable, healing sleep. She was vaguely aware of a gentle hand stroking through her curls and a reassuring warmth resting beside her. She snuggled deeper into the blankets.
Sometime later, her eyes fluttered open. Even before her vision cleared, she recognized the familiar scent of woodsmoke, broom polish, and crisp autumn air.
“Harry,” she mumbled.
“Hermione!”
Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped securely around her. The sheer proximity of him was overwhelming—in a good way. His scent enveloped her completely. She’d noticed it faintly over the years whenever she borrowed his sweaters, but now it felt heightened, sharper.
Her eyes focused, meeting his vibrant emerald-green gaze.
“Hi,” she whispered, smiling.
“Hi.” Harry let out a breathless laugh that quickly cracked into a sob as he held her tightly. “I thought you were dead, ’Mione. Merlin, I thought you were dead.”
“Well, apparently I wasn’t far off,” she sniffed, her voice turning thick. “Harry, you know I’m…”
“Alive. And that’s all I care about.” He gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Harry… how bad is it? Snape wouldn’t let me see a mirror.”
“You’re still bandaged up,” Harry said softly, wiping a tear from his own cheek. “But I can guarantee you’re still beautiful.”
She offered a weak smile, then remembered. “Oh my god! We won! You won, right?!” She tried to sit up suddenly, ignoring the spike of pain in her side. “Well, you’re alive, so obviously you won, but what happened? What did I miss?!”
Harry laughed at the sudden spark of her familiar, relentless energy. Hermione smacked him on the arm for laughing and waited impatiently for the story.
By the time he finished explaining the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, the laughter was entirely gone.
“Harry. James. Potter. You WALKED TO YOUR OWN DEATH?!?!” she shrieked.
Harry had faced down the Dark Lord himself, entirely prepared to die, but he had never been as terrified as he was in this exact moment under the weight of Hermione’s wrath.
“I had to, Hermione. It was the only way.”
“If I wasn’t so glad you’re alive, I’d kill you myself!” she hissed, her chest heaving. “Don’t you EVER do something so stupid again!”
“I won’t,” Harry said, his voice dropping into a fierce, serious register. “If you promise me the same.”
“I never—”
“You fought Greyback alone.” He cut her off, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “You nearly died because you went after him by yourself.”
Hermione grew very quiet, looking down at the hospital sheets. “If I’d died… the war still could’ve been won.”
Harry reached out, gently tipping her chin up so she was forced to look into his eyes. “If you’d died, Hermione, the war wouldn’t have been worth winning.”
Her lower lip trembled, and she quickly looked away to hide the sudden rush of tears. “Well, then… we agree. No more stupid things.”
“No more stupid things,” Harry echoed softly.