Chapter Text
When Albus Dumbledore acquired the Resurrection Stone in their sixth year, everything changed. Once he had access to all three Hallows, they compounded each other’s power. Dumbledore was able to to fully stop the spread of his decaying hand with the Elder wand. He then systematically hunted down the pieces of soul from his biggest distraction: Lord Voldemort.
Fulfilling the prophecy, Dumbledore handed over the Boy Who Lived for one final sacrifice. Although the wizarding world wept for their Chosen One, the world was restored to how it had been before.
But why stop there, thought Albus Dumbledore. The lofty goals of his youth were suddenly within reach. Wizards deserved dominion over the earth. They could do so much good. Surely the muggles would see the benefits of their magic--from healing elixirs to the floo networks-- and they would embrace this change in the power structure.
This was not so. The muggles fought back. They feared the magic that they did not understand, and were unwilling to cede power to the narcissistic wizards in charge. Instead, there was chaos. Bombs in the streets. Fires consuming magical dwellings. Many muggleborns defended their muggle families and helped them find the targets that their muggle eyes could not see.
Initially, there was significant death on both sides. It confirmed what many wizarding families believed: muggles were a danger. They were the problem, and they needed to be subdued like the terrorists they were. Families that were once friendly to the idea of muggles now turned on them.
“But, Mione, why wouldn’t they want magic? They’re bloody cracked in the head, aren’t they?” Ron asked her.
Once the retaliatory magical strikes started impacting muggle civilians, Hermione chose her side. She protected her parents first, securing them in an underground bunker. She stole as many books as she could from Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place and placed every security measure she could manage onto their hideout, including the Fidelius Charm.
Before it could get worse for the wizarding side, Dumbledore hid the British Isles with the combined power of the Elder wand and the Invisibility Cloak. From the perspective of the rest of the world, it had simply disappeared. There would be no outside help for those who were now trapped here permanently.
The next step, as Hermione and others had demonstrated was necessary, was to take care of the muggleborns. They were a nuisance after all. But Albus Dumbledore was a reasonable man. If a muggleborn were willing to submit completely and promise loyalty to wizarding kind under a magical oath, they would be allowed to stay. If wizarding Britain were to grow and survive, it would need fresh, magical blood.
For those who refused, Severus Snape had developed a potion that caused their bodies to leak magic to the point that it was unusable to the witch or wizard in question. Snape was resourceful, of course. He could harness the magic and use it for the dark artifacts he liked to collect.
Once their usefulness was over, these traitors to wizarding kind were disappeared. Dead, Hermione thought initially. But others whispered about fortified concentration camps where muggleborns and even problematic half-bloods were kept on the brink of death, but not quite. This way their leaking magic could continue to be harnessed.
Hermione had tried to reach out to the Muggle government. She had hoped that rational minds could prevail. That a compromise could be made between the two sides. They didn’t see the value of her “help,” and instead tried to cage her. Hermione escaped, of course. Magic was Might.
When she later caught sight of a poster declaring her an enemy of Wizarding Britain, Hermione realized that her effort at mutual discourse would likely have been fruitless anyway.
While the wizarding casualties slowed, the muggle casualties grew. The war had been going on for seven years when Hermione’s parents were killed.
George and Helen Granger had, of course, refused to stand down and hide. Hermione had always known that this would be the case. Although they were dentists, they used the extent of their medical knowledge to help heal the wounded. After a magical attack, whether it was wizards with bombardas or the inferi army Dumbledore had created with the combined power of Resurrection Stone and the Elder wand, Hermione’s parents would sweep in to save whatever lives they could in the aftermath.
Hermione’s role was to defend her parents with magic as they provided aide. With both sides after her, Hermione couldn’t provide wider support.
There was a trap set on the day her parents died. The wizards set off a single explosion near a muggle safehold, maiming several muggles.
Then they waited.
When first responders and medical teams came forward to help, they initiated the true attack. The Inferi army overwhelmed everyone there, including Hermione. No matter how much she tried, she could not break through the horde to save her parents. She could only scream, blast fire at the corpses, and watch as her family was consumed.
As Hermione now lay alone in her bunker, she realized that this war was hopeless. Protecting her parents had been her one goal for the last seven years. Without that purpose, she was useless.
At the same time, there was nothing holding her back anymore. Now she could do anything and pay any price to win.
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Six months later
A brown british shorthair cat lurked in the shadows of Hogwarts. She was trying to find the Order of the Phoenix's weakness. She was looking for discontent, and she thinks she found it.
Severus Snape was always rather discontent, so she wasn’t immediately sure that this was the in she hoped it was. As she had watched him these last few weeks, she came to realize that the opportunity was legitimate.
Severus Snape hated Albus Dumbledore.
Hermione could see it in his eyes. She could see it in the way he trashed his office after yet another command from his twinkly-eyed master. It wasn’t very subtle, on reflection. He was her best bet. Now she just needed to figure out the best way to approach him.
Hermione flicked her tail and watched as the Potions Master tried to compose himself. His head was hung, his dark hair hanging and obscuring his face. One hand lightly touched the desk top as he took deep breaths. He abruptly rounded the desk and sat, gazing dispassionately at the mess he had just created.
Hermione padded out of the shadows and jumped lithely onto the desk. She enjoyed the gracefulness of her feline form.
Snape stared at her, face blank.
“Shoo,” he said in a flat tone.
Hermione flicked her tail in agitation.
She knocked over the ink well on his desk, spilling it across the papers he had lying there.
Snape’s lip curled angrily.
“Fuck off!” He said, yelling this time. He was quite volatile tonight.
Hermione shook her head.
Comprehension flashed across Snape’s strong features. His black eyes took her in assessingly. He knew she was human now. As he took a few moments deciding what to do next, Hermione wondered if one of the options he contemplated might include killing her for witnessing something she shouldn’t have. It was too late now. Hermione stood her ground. She took the opportunity to clean her face with her little paw.
“Come.” Snape said shortly. He stood and briskly walked through the door leading to the opposite direction from his lab. Hermione had determined through her spying that Snape was no longer a teacher, but a full time potioneer for this regime. Hermione hopped down and followed him into what appeared to be his living space. There was a couch, a chair, and a small kitchen. And books. Many, many, books. Hermione looked at them greedily.
Snape cast several privacy wards and then turned to face the little brown cat.
“Reveal yourself.” His tone brookered no argument.
Hermione did so, transforming back into herself. Perhaps due to the emotions of the evening, Snape was unable to conceal his surprise. His eyes widened in shock at her revelation.
“Ms. Granger.” He said in greeting.
“Potion Master Snape,” Hermione greeted back.
“What do you want?” Snape demanded impatiently.
“I want this war finished. I will do anything to make it so.” Hermione replied.
His dark black eyes bore into hers.
“Anything?” He confirmed, some dangerous contemplation tightening his eyes.
Hermione gave a sharp nod in reply.
“Go home.” Snape said dismissively after another long moment of silence.
“What fucking home?” Hermione hissed. “This world doesn’t offer me one. Not as it is.”
Hermione clenched her jaw and her fists. She’d be damned if she would just go home. She hadn’t become an animagus and snuck around the castle for weeks just to be turned away.
Snape must have seen her determination because he sighed.
“Fine. Let’s have tea.” He said.
“As if I would consume anything you gave me.” Hermione said, thinking of his specially developed magic depletion potion.
“How will this…partnership work if you won’t trust me? Obviously some observation has made you decide that I’m your best option for an ally. And what a sad state to be in.” Snape said dryly.
Hermione sat at the small kitchen table. Snape poured her tea, which she continued to refuse.
“Why don’t you tell me your idea and then i’ll decide if I can trust you.” Hermione said. She knew from his reaction that he had one.
“The 'idea' is in no way reasonable.” Snape said. “It’s not an idea at all, really, just a…desperate musing.”
“So you are just as desperate as I am to stop Dumbledore.” Hermione stated.
He gave a grunt that was meant to be an affirmative statement.
“What is the desperate musing?” she asked.
Snape continued to seem reluctant about whatever it was.
“There is a…prophecy that I am privy to.” He said.
“Another one? Hadn’t you learned your lesson about eavesdropping on prophecies?” Hermione asked sharply. As far as she was concerned, he was the reason that all three Potters were dead.
“Apparently not.” Snape said, self depreciation clear in his tone.
“What is it then?” Hermione asked, also desperate if she was contemplating divination as a solution to their problems.
“Two sworn enemies wearied from the endless war…in secret shadow they will bind their fates with a forbidden child….hidden from wizards and spies…they will whisper plans against he who brought about the ill-sought Greater Good…Two sworn enemies wearied from the endless war will find peace. “ Severus recited.
They sat in silence as Hermione processed. “Repeat it, please.” Hermione requested.
Snape repeated it.
“Another child sacrifice?” Hermione asked bitterly.
“I don’t think that’s what it says.” Snape replied.
Snape wrote the prophecy down on a scrap piece of parchment and slid it across the table for her to read again.
“If we meet the conditions, perhaps we can self-fulfill the prophecy into existence. That’s how they generally come to fruition in my experience. Dumbledore does know about it, however. He will be on the look out for any…dalliances.” Snape warned.
“So, you suggest that we 'bind our fates with a forbidden child?'” Hermione looked at him in horror.
“You said anything.” Snape reminded her, his gaze hard. “I’m hardly jumping for joy at the prospect either.”
Hermione stared blankly at the piece of paper.
“Perhaps take some time to think about whether you really meant what you said. When I say anything, I mean it.”
Hermione scoffed. Leaving her tea untouched, she transformed into her cat form and stalked from the room with her tail held high.
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Hermione gave herself a few days. Not to make her decision--she had meant anything, even giving herself over to the surly potions master. Rather, she gave herself a few days to come to terms with her new reality.
Hermione had never truly considered becoming a mother. All of her child-bearing years had been spent in the midst of a war. This was not the time nor the place to bring a child into the world. Even if she had wanted a child, it wasn’t worth worrying over an impossibility.
Now it was not only not impossible, it was necessary. Hermione dearly hoped that by bringing a child into the world, she was making that world a better place. If not, it would be the worst kind of selfishness to inflict this situation upon an innocent baby.
Hermione didn’t think that Snape would be considering this at all if he didn’t truly think it might work.
So Hermione spent a few days as a cat, foraging and exploring the forest and grounds from a feline perspective. Owls, Hermione had determined, were actually quite horrifying creatures.
Hermione eventually came to terms with the fact that she was stalling. Hermione knew that there was no guarantee that she would fall pregnant the first, third, or even fifth month of trying. Hermione’s own parents had struggled for many years to get pregnant before she was born. They always referred to her as their little miracle.
Hermione took an hour or so to cry over her selfless parents’ demise, and then she decided that she would return to accept Snape’s proposition the following day. She merely regretted that her parents would never know their grandchild.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hermione felt Snape’s dark gaze on her as she silently slunk into his office. Once she was sure it was safe, Hermione transformed into herself.
Snape raised an eyebrow in question.
“I think we should do it.” Hermione said. She tapped her foot nervously. “Sooner rather than later.”
“I’m sure we can be…clinical about all of this.” Snape said, also seeming uncomfortable.
He conjured a flat, raised table reminiscent of the ones you might find at a doctor’s office...or a morgue. He wasn’t kidding when he said clinical. Hermione wondered if he would conjure stirrups as well.
“Let’s just get this over with.” Hermione said resignedly.
She couldn’t believe that she had gone this long without having sex, and now she was going to lose her virginity on an exam table to Severus Snape. She wished now that she had given it up to the young muggle man who had helped her parents source their medical supplies. He had always given off vibes that he was interested, but Hermione just couldn’t find the drive to pursue anything in such awful circumstances.
Hermione boosted herself to sit on the table and stared at Snape expectantly.
“Have you…done this before?” He asked awkwardly.
“Have you?” she countered.
Snape’s face flushed angrily.
“Yes,” He answered tightly.
Hermione sighed.
“I haven’t.” she admitted. “I just…never got around to it.”
Snape nodded, seeming perturbed by this information. He turned his back on her. “If you would remove your trousers and undergarments, I’ll get something to help.”
Hermione stood and shuffled out her well worn jeans, kicking them and her panties to the side before hopping back up on the table. She kept her tank top and bra on, figuring all the necessary parts were exposed. He was the one who wanted it clinical.
When Snape returned, he was holding a small glass jar.
Their eyes met briefly.
“Lay back, please.” He directed her.
Hermione did as instructed, staring up at the stone ceiling.
“I’m going to touch you now.” Snape said.
“Yes, I figured so.” Hermione said shortly. This whole situation was incredibly uncomfortable. She was eager for it to be done.
Hermione’s hips jerked when his thumb came unexpectedly in contact with her clit. He rubbed her in rhythmic circles and Hermione immediately felt her core grow warm. She had touched herself, of course, but having someone else do it was an entirely new experience.
“Is--Is this part necessary?” Hermione gasped through the tingles.
“I think so with it being your first time. I have a lubricant as well, but I think it would be beneficial if you were naturally…ready.” Snape said, continuing to stimulate her.
Hermione took a deep breath and tried to relax into the feeling. Just as she had settled into the pleasant sensation, Snape sunk his long, lube covered finger inside of her.
“Ohhh!” Hermione gasped.
“Are you okay?” Snape asked, continuing to pump his finger in and out of her channel. “You seem to be, ah, wet.” He continued through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, Yeah, it doesn’t hurt.” Hermione confirmed. It more than didn’t hurt. It felt really, really nice in conjunction with his continued efforts on her clit.
“Ah, fuck.” Hermione hissed as Snape added a second finger to join the first. The pressure and the way he curled his fingers along the front of her walls suddenly became too much.
“I-I think that’s enough.” Hermione said, self-conscious. “I think I’m ready.”
Snape obediently pulled his fingers out. Hermione heard the jingle as he reached to undo his belt instead. Panicked, Hermione sat up on her forearms to watch as he withdrew his cock from his trousers. It was fucking huge, much thicker and longer than his two fingers had been. Perhaps she had been too quick to determine she was ready.
Snape gently cupped her naked thighs and stepped into the space between them. His cock rested ominously on top of her mound. They both stared at it for a moment, flushed and hard and ready to take her.
Snape looked up at her, only now noticing that she had leveraged herself up into a viewing position.
“Perhaps we should turn you around.” Snape suggested, voice hoarse.
“No, no, I think it’s better if I can see.” Hermione disagreed.
Snape grunted. “If that’s your preference.” His tone seemed uncertain.
Snape retrieved more lubricant from his jar and pumped his fist over his member a few times, ensuring that it was fully coated. Snape then lined his engorged head with her entrance. “I’ll go slowly. Let me know if there is any pain. There shouldn’t be though.” He said, trying to be reassuring.
He began pressing in slowly. His head stretched her as it disappeared inside. Hermione stared in wide eyed fascination at the sight. Snape had hold of her hips to maintain control of his slow breach into her person. He slid in further and further, her wet walls and his lube slick cock aiding his entrance.
The tight fit, far from being painful, felt right. Hermione let out a moan when Snape’s hips finally fell flush against her. Holding still and letting her adjust to his size, Snape’s eyes flicked up to her face. Their eyes met.
“Fuck, fuck, okay. Maybe from behind is better.” Hermione said, suddenly overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. Clinical, she reminded herself. Clinical was best.
Hermione knew he would fit and that it wouldn’t hurt now, so there was no reason to watch.
Snape squeezed her hips once more and pulled out of her. She instantly missed the feeling of him, but he stepped back and nodded for her to turn around.
Hermione hopped off the table and turned to bend over it instead. This time she was eager instead of apprehensive. Snape’s long fingers once again cupped her hips as he lined them up. This time he entered her with one fluid thrust. He hit something deep inside of her that had her emitting an embarrassing sound. She didn’t care at this moment.
“Fuck, I’m not going to last long.” He warned her.
He moved out and back in, slowly at first, but he soon picked up the pace, creating a beautiful friction. Hermione knew that she continued to make noises, but all she cared about was the feeling of him filling her over and over again. His thrusts suddenly became erratic and he groaned. Hermione could feel him spilling inside of her.
Hermione had the sudden realization that they may have just made a baby. She knew that that was the point, that it was a condition of the so-called prophecy, but it hadn’t felt quite real until just now.
Snape, once he had caught his breath, pulled out of her once again. Hermione squirmed a bit when she felt the viscous substance of their combined fluids drip out upon his exit.
“Do you know where you are in your cycle?” He asked, apparently having similar thoughts.
“No, I haven’t been tracking it, honestly.” Hermione said. She tried to stand straight, but Snape gently put his hand on her back, halting her. She felt a tingling as he cleaned her up with a wave of his wand. Once done, he stepped back and turned away again so she could get dressed.
“We’ll start tracking it at your next menses.” Snape said, sounding perfectly clinical after an experience that Hermione felt was anything but. “If you have one.” He added absently.
“Okay…I’ll…see you then?” Hermione asked.
Snape nodded his head, and Hermione made her exit, transforming back into a cat.