The Other Snape

Chapter 11

It took Harry all night and the better part of the next day to understand what happened to Hermione.

"Hermione," Harry gingerly approached the girl who was studying at the moment, "Hermione, can we talk?"

"What is it," Hermione gritted out. It wasn't even a question. She was trying to be as formal as she could.

"Can we talk— in private?" Harry asked, then saw her face and quickly said, "Never mind, just some privacy charms, then."

He cast them and sat across from his friend. How he didn't see the signs earlier, he will never know, but he understood now.

"Hermione, where do you go during the summer?"

Hermione stilled.

"I go home to my parents, Harry, you know that."

"But— Hermione, listen to me— do they... do anything to you?"

"They don't do anything to me, I don't know what you're saying," Hermione was glaring at the book in her hands.

"Hermione," Harry moved a bit closer, "You know of my home life before Sirius was freed. I understand, Hermione, I get it. Look—" Harry reluctantly shed his glamour on his arm and pulled up the sleeve, allowing his friend to see his scar that spelled out, 'FREAK.' "You can tell me."

Hermione stared at the scars so intently, and Harry couldn't see her eyes.

It startled him to see her body start racking with sobs.

"Hermione—"

"No, let me tell you," she said through her tears, "When my parents found out I was— a witch, they started to hate me. So, so much." She rolled her sleeve up and slowly, Harry could see the scars on her too. 'WITCH' and 'WRETCH.'

"They said I could never be able to live up to their standards, that they would never be proud of me. Not when I was a witch. They said I would be friendless, homeless, and broke. That's why it hurt so much when Ron said it in First year. It's why I did so many stupid things that would get me killed.

"If I showed them how far I've come in the Wizarding World, they would be proud of me," she finished with a whisper.

"'Mione," Harry said with a sad look in his eyes. He pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner. Does anyone know about this?"

Hermione shook her head. Harry didn't even care that his shirt was so wet with tears.

"C-can," she sniffed, "you tell me how you left the Dursleys?"

Harry figured she was saying this because she didn't want to think too much right now, but he honestly didn't know.

"If you want," Harry said, "My godfather was imprisoned in Azkaban for something he didn't do. He was never given any trial and, therefore, stayed in Azkaban for a bit more than ten years. My godmother left Britain the day after my first birthday. Everyone thought she was dead and everyone thought she was a Dark Witch. When she came back five years later, she was briefed upon what had happened. According to her, she went into shock for an hour. Then, she started to try to get Sirius, my godfather, out of Azkaban. But, she had to do so anonymously and she needed enough evidence.

"Just after our second year started, when Ron lost his rat, Sirius got his trial. He was deemed innocent and was given a whole lot of money and a mind healer. He was part of House Black and they didn't give him a trial, so that would spark a lot of controversies. I didn't meet Sirius until the end of Second year because he wanted to be as sound of mind as he could. My godmother, she traveled a lot, sometimes in America, other times in Brazil, other times in China, she doesn't tell many people what she does and it's not my place to tell."