His Future

Hermione and the Unfamiliar Stranger

Hermione stared down at the man lying on the floor. He was dressed in familiar black robes, and his sharp features and unmistakable sneer made her heart stutter.

He looked exactly like Professor Snape. But that was impossible.

"Who... who are you?" Hermione stammered, instinctively taking a step back, her hand hovering near her wand. She had no idea what was happening, but her mind raced to process it.

Severus slowly pushed himself up from the floor, dusting off his robes with a practiced motion. He glared at her, a sneer curling his lips. "Why should I tell you? And where are Potter and his mutt?" His voice was sharp, but there was a curious edge to it—an edge Hermione didn't quite recognize.

Hermione blinked, her pulse quickening. "Snape?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She had to be imagining things. But his face—the way he stood, the sharpness in his eyes—it was him. There was no mistaking it.

The man frowned, his gaze narrowing. "How do you know my name?" He raised an eyebrow as he took a step back, looking her over. "I don't believe we've met. Are you new here?"

Hermione inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing heart. 'Could it be possible? How could this be happening? And why now?'

"Let's go," she said, without thinking. She grabbed his arm, trying to lead him out of the room, but he quickly yanked his arm away from her grasp, his brow furrowing in confusion and irritation.

"We need to go see Professor McGonagall," Hermione explained quickly, feeling the urgency of the situation. "Do you know how to disillusion yourself?"

Severus paused, eyes flicking over her face, then gave a short nod. "Of course."

He opened his mouth, clearly about to ask something more, but Hermione cut him off. "You may not know me, but you're lucky it was me you came across and not someone else. Professor McGonagall will have answers. But no one else can see you. Please trust me." She offered him her hand, her voice firm but laced with something that resembled desperation.

Severus stared at her hand for a long moment, his eyes dark and calculating. Then, without another word, he placed his hand in hers. Something deep inside him—a sense he couldn't name—told him that this girl was somehow important, that he should trust her.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat when he took her hand, his long fingers wrapping around hers with a familiar but foreign kind of tenderness. She squeezed his hand, relishing the connection. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them—so much was left unspoken between them, but she felt it.

She led him out of the room, her steps sure but quick. They moved together in an unspoken rhythm, a strange quiet hanging in the air.

As they neared the corner by the Great Hall, however, Hermione's pace faltered when she spotted Harry and Ron. She could feel Severus stiffen at the sight of them, and instinctively, she pulled him a little closer to her.

"Hermione. There you are!" Harry called, his face lighting up when he saw her. He was clearly in a good mood.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said, forcing a smile. "I'm heading to see the Headmistress. I have a meeting with her to discuss my future."

Severus watched her carefully, his sharp eyes tracking every small change in her expression, every nuance in her body language. To her credit, Hermione's tone was steady—perhaps a little too steady—but there was no sign of hesitation, no hint of a lie.

Hermione continued, her voice a little more casual now. "I'll see you both in class. I don't want to be late." She tugged Severus gently, steering him toward the corridor leading to the Gryffindor entrance.

Harry and Ron didn't seem to question it. Harry grinned, giving her a thumbs-up. "Good luck with that! Catch you later."

As the two of them walked away, Severus leaned in close to Hermione, his voice barely a whisper, but his breath was warm against her ear. "Headmistress?" he asked, his tone low, guarded.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine at the feel of his breath, and she had to stop herself from reacting more than she already had. "Yes," she whispered back, fighting to keep her composure. "Professor McGonagall is headmistress now."

"Where's Dumbledore?" His voice, though soft, carried the weight of a question he feared to hear the answer to.

Hermione's throat tightened as she responded, her voice quieter still. "He... he died, a little over a year ago."

Severus froze for a moment, processing the information. His eyes darkened, and a shadow crossed his face. Time travel. It could only mean one thing: he had somehow been thrust into a different time. Into a future he didn't recognize.

"So McGonagall took over after he died?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

"Not exactly." Hermione's eyes darted over her shoulder, but still, she saw no sign of him. "Sherbet lemon," she muttered under her breath, saying the password. The staircase ahead of them shifted, creaking to life as it began to rise, taking them upward.

Severus followed her without question, still trying to make sense of everything. "This is... unexpected," he said, but Hermione could tell that he wasn't speaking  about the stairs.

"It's more than that," she said, her voice softening. "But I'll explain everything when we get to McGonagall. Just trust me."

Severus said nothing in response, but he squeezed her hand gently, as if in reassurance—or perhaps as a quiet acknowledgment that despite the confusion and uncertainty of the situation, he was trusting her with more than just the facts.