Hermione awoke the following morning, still in the guest bedroom at the Potter-Snape estate, Crookshanks wrapped around her, and still annoyed about her latest failure. Shaking her head, she very nearly had a heart attack as she sat up, and Dobby was practically bouncing up and down at the foot of her bed, waiting for her. Crookshanks hissed at the house-elf, but Dobby merely flapped his ears at the half-Kneazle, which quickly silenced him.

"Will Mistress Hermione be joining Master Harry and Master Severus in the conservatory for breakfast?" he wanted to know.

Hermione pursed her lips, but nevertheless threw back the goose down coverlet and got out of the bed. "Yes, Dobby, thank you," she replied, knowing that she must look a fright, as she always did in the mornings. "Give me a moment to ready myself, and then I'll be down there directly, all right?"

Dobby gave a small nod and disappeared with a crack.

Hermione turned and regarded Crookshanks for a moment, and the feline familiar stared up at her with wide eyes. "Don't look at me like that," she scolded him lightly. "I know my hair is a proper rats' nest right now... You needn't make me feel any worse." Shaking her head at letting herself and her doldrums attitude not to cast an Immobulus upon her hair before falling asleep, Hermione made her way over to the en suite to set herself to rights.

Once her hair was presentable, she smelled a lot better, and was in the change of clothes Dobby had brought over for her, Hermione stepped back into the bedroom and took up Crookshanks into her arms, her wand tucked into her thick hair—now in a respectable bun atop her head—and made her way downstairs. Hermione cut through the drawing room, which led towards the French doors and into the conservatory, where Harry and Severus were already speaking animatedly to one another, with Severus pressing his ear onto Harry's belly, and Harry gently laughing at his husband.

"I hope we're not interrupting," Hermione put in as she and Crookshanks crossed the threshold, and, for Hermione's part, stared in amusement at the pair of them.

Severus appeared flustered as he pulled away from Harry, his cheeks slightly pink, while Harry laughed aloud at that. "It is hardly funny, Harry," Severus admonished him gently.

"I beg to differ," Hermione informed them both, setting down Crookshanks to explore the area at length, and crossed over towards the intimate, circular rosewood table, and pressed a kiss to Severus's cheek, before she crossed over to Harry and embraced him. Sitting down in the last available chair, she finally permitted herself to breathe properly for the first time since she had left on her mission.

"Did the Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep help?" Severus wanted to know, beginning to serve himself from the silver platters which appeared in the center of the table, reminding both Hermione and Harry of their Hogwarts days.

Hermione nodded, taking in the fare for a moment—fried eggs, sausages, rashers, breakfast potatoes, scones, tomatoes, beans, and kippers with butter and a wide array of jams and marmalades to choose from for the scones. Hermione took everything but the rashers, tomatoes, beans, and kippers onto her own plate, buttering her scone after breaking it in half as she replied steadily, "Yes, thank you, Severus. I know you always have those in stock for your potions business, but I still feel so guilty about taking them without the allotted Galleon fee whenever I crash over here after yet another failed mission..."

Severus shook his head at Hermione with a small smile. "Hermione, you know as well as I do that Harry never would have defeated Voldemort had you not helped him..."

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms at his husband. "Oi!"

"Sorry, love, but it's true," Severus replied, taking ahold of Harry's hand and levitating all of Harry's favorites onto his plate for him, and sent Harry a look filled with love. "Hermione would inevitably seek out the library whenever she was in doubt about whatever hairbrained scheme you and Ron had cooked up..."

"Least I can cook," Harry muttered.

"Which Dobby will never allow, especially now that you're pregnant," Hermione put in rather stoutly, and Severus nodded his head.

"I will not allow you to put our child in danger, Harry. I thought it entirely sensible of you not to join the Auror Academy with Ron, even when you got your NEWTs early," Severus said softly, and Hermione knew that he was looking out for their child's well-being.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I do that I was finished with Dark wizards once I killed Voldemort," he informed his husband patiently. "Besides, it was a pain in the arse on its own telling Sirius about our relationship..."

Hermione smirked as she cut into her sausage. "Thank Merlin for Protective Enchantments and Shield Charms," she put in, before she caught Harry's expression and sighed. "That was thoughtless of me, and I apologize, Harry... Even I think that running off to France like that was childish at best..."

"Not completely thoughtless, Hermione," Severus said softly. "Merlin knows that, if they had not existed, Black would have likely killed me and wound up in Azkaban for good this time around..."

"And he would have completely deserved it," Harry said at last, although his expression was still one of sadness. "He even writes to Remus and asks after Tonks and their son..."

"But he wasn't made godfather, Harry," Hermione reminded him gently. "And you know as well as I do that you and Severus need time with that little boy, and will have it, once he's born in April of next year."

Harry considered everything for a moment, running his fork along the surface of his egg yolks as he did so. "Do you think Molly would be willing to send Sirius a Howler via Hedwig if I asked her to?" he asked.

Severus smirked. "I think you could get Molly Weasley to do anything, Harry. She was the one who threatened to box Black's ears if he didn't stop having a meltdown..."

"Thankfully I was there to smooth everything over, as always," Hermione put in. "Of course, it did help that Ginny was already madly in love with Draco by that point, so Molly got off her high Hippogriff pretty quickly about wanting Harry and Ginny to be together..."

"Or you and Ron," Harry put in.

"Ron and Lavender seem very happy together," Severus said, nodding with approval. "Besides, our Hermione always did deserve better than Ron."

"In a romantic sense, definitely," Hermione said with a small smile. "We were much too different when it came right down to it, unfortunately..."

"Hey, maybe you and Sirius could get together!" Harry said suddenly, a grin quickly overtaking his face as Severus and Hermione turned to look at him. "What? Hermione had a mad crush on him after we got him free with Buckbeak, and maybe Sirius needs some company in France wherever he is..."

Hermione grimaced as Severus looked utterly ill. "Harry, you yourself had a mad crush on Cho Chang once upon a time," she said, and Harry immediately looked stricken with sickness. "You see? That's exactly how I feel whenever you bring up me with Sirius. I told you when we all got drunk on Firewhiskey before he took off, after we were celebrating Voldemort's defeat, that we shared a drunken snog, but it meant nothing. I felt nothing, just like it was with Ron, and Viktor Krum when they all kissed me. I have to feel something in order to take things further, which was why I couldn't..."

"Do you think you're gay, Hermione?" Harry asked, cocking his head to one side. "Perhaps Pansy could—"

"Pansy has been betrothed to Theodore Nott since the pair of them were practically infants, Harry," Severus said, going into lecture-mode.

"Besides, very much like the two of you, breasts don't appeal to me," Hermione said, grimacing at the very thought of it.

Severus smirked as he proceeded to spread some blackcurrant jam upon his own scone. "I suppose I attempted to convince myself to love breasts, once upon a time, which was largely due to why James hated me so fiercely," he put in, and Harry and Hermione turned their heads to listen more attentively to their former professor. "I just thank Merlin that Lily and I came to an understanding before the inevitable happened... War," he clarified after a moment. "It knows no bounds, you see."

Hermione's hands trembled as she went over and over Severus's words in her head, for the rest of breakfast, to stopping briefly at her flat to drop off Crookshanks and to get some paperwork done, and then Floo-ing to Hampstead to meet her parents. As usual, they met in her parents' sitting room and then took the car to The Holly Bush, an eighteenth-century pub where her mother and father had had their first date whilst attending Barts and The London School of Medicine and Dentistry. Since then, it had become a Saturday luncheon staple in the Granger household, although Hermione had to miss a fair few lunches during her Hogwarts years, to which her mother and father were very understanding.

"How have things been going with work, darling?" asked Cecilia Granger as her husband, Albert, drove them into town towards The Holly Bush.

Hermione sighed, pulling slightly at an errant curl; she had had to remove her wand from her hair and conceal it somewhere upon her person, now that she was in Muggle territory. "It hasn't been going too terribly well," she replied, remembering that she wasn't permitted to tell them much, as neither of them worked in the department, or were wixen. "Let's just say that the answer hasn't presented itself yet, and the trials are getting more and more exhausting to complete. I am at my wits'-end..."

Albert Granger regarded his daughter from the rearview mirror and, knowing when he and Cecilia were not permitted to know any more information, decided to change the subject. "How are Harry and Severus doing, then?"

Hermione flashed her father a grateful smile. "They're well, and they'll be pleased you asked after them, Dad," she informed him, and Albert Granger looked quite pleased at the notion. "I know it's still a bit odd for you to wrap your head around, Harry being pregnant and married to another man, but they're actually very happy..."

"We could care less if he's married to Severus, 'Mione," Cecilia reminded her daughter. "And even though the concept of Harry actually carrying a child is something we'll have to get used to, I see nothing wrong with it, provided he loves Severus, isn't being forced into a pregnancy, and they have the financial means to support a child."

"All three apply here, Mum," Hermione told her mother patiently, watching as they entered into the main part of town. "I remember telling you that Harry's family actually invented the hair potion that I first wore to the Yule Ball back in fourth-year."

"And how is the lovely young man you attended with—Viktor, wasn't it?" Albert asked as they neared the pub proper.

"He's well," Hermione confirmed; she and Viktor saw one another at varying functions throughout the year, and he had attended Bill and Fleur's wedding at the Burrow last August, where the pair had shared another dance or two. "He's preparing for the next Quidditch World Cup, which will be Bulgaria versus Britain, which should prove to be interesting."

"And will you be attending with the Weasley family when it happens, love?" Cecilia wanted to know, inching forward slightly in her seat. "Look, Bertie, the car park has some spots free. I think we should pull in..."

"Righto, Lia," Albert said, and maneuvered the car in that direction.

"I might go, to the Quidditch World Cup, that is," Hermione replied with a small shrug of her shoulders. "I just wouldn't want to get Viktor's hopes up. He sort of asked me if I was seeing anyone last summer, but I told him I was getting ready for work at the Ministry, and I didn't have time to have a romantic relationship..."

"Well, you seem to be plenty swamped with work still, darling," Cecilia put in as Albert found a proper parking spot and pulled in. "Plus, there's Crookshanks to worry about... Is there anyone Crookshanks didn't like?"

"Other than Scabbers, who turned out to be Wormtail, and the Dementors, no," Hermione said at last, quite surprised that Crookshanks seemed to tolerate most people. "He's closest to Harry, Severus, Ron, and Ginny right now, but has warmed up considerably to Lavender and Draco, and seems to have come to the correct conclusion that they won't be going anywhere."

Albert got out of the car and circled it, opening the door for both Cecilia and Hermione, and linked arms with the both of them, whilst Cecilia and Hermione gently kicked their doors shut, and Albert locked the car automatically. "You look exhausted at the best of times, love," he said gently to his daughter. "Perhaps a little time off would do you some good?"

Cecilia brightened at that. "Josephine, our receptionist, and Conrad, her husband, are expecting a baby in the spring," she put in. "Perhaps you would like to fill in for her temporarily? A Muggle post could be just the thing to get out of your funk..."

"Unless I'm afflicted with long-term injury, I can't abandon the work I've started, Mum," said Hermione gently to her mother. "I am happy for Josephine and Conrad, however. Please send them my congratulations."

"You know best, Hermione," Albert said gently, "and Severus knows what to do with you, or Poppy, if it came right down to it."

"Just please be careful, darling," Cecilia begged her daughter as they stepped into the pub. "You are all we have, after all. I would hate for something to happen to you..."

"I survived a war, Mum," Hermione said softly. "Nothing will happen to me."

~*~

Hermione returned to the Department of Mysteries the following Monday as scheduled, her detailed report inside her bag. Crookshanks was fed and had plenty of access to water, and Dobby would continually check up on him throughout the day, much to her relief. Sunday dinner at the Burrow had gone as well as could have been expected, with Bill and Fleur announcing that Harry and Severus's child would have a little playmate come the following summer, Fred and George telling everyone that they were opening up a second Wheezes in Hogsmeade now that Zonko was willing to sell, and Ron saying that he was going out on a dangerous mission on behalf of the Auror Training Program, which he was completing alongside studying for his NEWTs during his final year at Hogwarts.

Slipping into the Time Room, Hermione handed over her report to her superior, and grimaced slightly as the woman, Philippa Terrance, looked it over. "I'm really sorry," she said softly, and self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself. "I just don't know if I'm the right person for this task. I mean, usually solutions come to me instantly, or through research. I've exhausted the library here at the Ministry, as well as at Hogwarts. I'm just not sure where else to turn, Madam Terrance..."

Philippa Terrance was typically a hard woman; in her late-thirties, she was extremely intelligent, and had sorted Ravenclaw during her Hogwarts years, excelling particularly in History of Magic, Charms, and Transfiguration. A great ally of Minerva McGonagall, she was also a close friend of Severus's, both of whom had vouched for Hermione for the open position in the Time Room. It was quite surprising when Philippa sighed, and gave Hermione a soft smile; she had faced some backlash during her years at Hogwarts, due to having a Pureblood British father and a Ugandan Muggleborn mother who had attended Uagadou. Fluent in English, Swahili, and French, she was also an extremely patient witch when she wanted to be, and knew entirely well that Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape would not have recommended Hermione for nothing.

"Hermione, do not despair," Philippa informed her. "And, please, no more 'Madam Terrance'; I think I will see my mother-in-law if you call me that one more time," she joked, and Hermione shared in her laughter; Sapphria Terrance, a Pureblood who was nearly as conservative as the late Walburga Black, barely approved of Philippa for her only son, Osric.

"Sorry, Philippa," Hermione said quickly. She worried on her lower lip. "Of course, the Wizarding Section of the Library of Alexandria takes months, if not years, to get in. Harry would likely have an in, or, perhaps, Severus would. But, I submitted an application months ago, and they denied me entry. I just don't know where I'm supposed to go from here..."

Philippa considered that for a moment. "You did mention, and I heard directly from Severus during teatime with Minerva, that he and Harry are in the process of combining their libraries from the Prince vault on Severus's side, and the Potter, Peverell, and Fleamont on Harry's. I wonder if they may permit you to look at the collection."

Hermione blinked; of course, given that Harry had vanquished Voldemort just three months ago, had completed his NEWTs shortly thereafter, was permitted to live with the love of his life in a home of their own, as well as conceiving a child, she supposed the concept of a great many books that could potentially be at her disposal had slipped under the radar. "Honestly, with everything going on..."

Philippa nodded. "Of course," she said softly, and read through the rest of Hermione's report before banishing it towards the piles of other reports. "I want you to take today, tomorrow, and Wednesday off, Hermione. No," she said firmly, holding up her hand as Hermione quickly moved to protest. "You are hereby ordered to get evaluated by Poppy at Hogwarts, or a healer or mediwitch or wizard at St. Mungo's of your choice immediately. Then, I want you to go home and rest and not even think about work until Thursday. In the meantime, I want you to send an owl or make a Floo Call to Harry and Severus about potentially checking out their library. I assume they will give permission, and you will have Thursday and Friday to look it over, and then spend the weekend coming up with a game plan."

Hermione huffed; she hated the notion of being suspended from her work, but knew entirely well that Philippa knew what she was talking about. "Oh, all right," she grumbled, but Philippa flashed her a smile, and Hermione harrumphed back.

"Now, go on," Philippa said to Hermione. "Go to Poppy; I know she will always take the opportunity to help you, and it'll be less chaotic than St. Mungo's, I'm sure. Maybe see if Minerva knows anything, all right?"

Hermione crossed her arms; Dumbledore being a casualty in the Battle of the Astronomy Tower hadn't hit her as deeply as she thought it would, given all the hell and manipulation he'd put Harry through during his time at Hogwarts. Naturally, Hermione believed that the school was in capable hands with Minerva running things, and the Board of Governors was plenty satisfied with her work so far. "I'll see what I can do," she said at last.

Philippa urged her along, and Hermione left the Time Room, her body language a slouch, given that she was so annoyed at the restrictive nature of it all.

Trudging along towards the Floo's, Hermione grabbed a handful of powder and whispered, "The private office of Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," before she stepped inside and was swallowed up completely. Her legs buckled as she fell through the Floo and onto the ordinarily immaculate stone floor of Poppy's office, and Hermione sputtered as a fair amount of soot made its way down her throat.

"Hermione!" Poppy cried out, launching herself from her desk, and cast several Cleaning Charms, as well as an Extraction Spell to get the soot removed from Hermione's throat. "This is indeed a surprise... Shall I ring for tea, dear?"

"May as well," Hermione replied, pushing her hair out of her face and permitting Poppy to draw her to her feet, and was pushed onto the visitor's chair. "I've been given time off work, and Philippa told me go come straight to you... Perhaps she thinks I need my head examined, or something..."

Poppy smiled. "Philippa was always a wonderful student," she replied, and ran a typical Wellness Charm along the length of Hermione's body. "Ah," she said as parchment flew from the tip of her wand as she did so, and Poppy caught ahold of it, reading. "It appears as if you are afflicted with dehydration, exhaustion, exposure to Dark magic, spell damage..." Poppy tutted and sighed, setting the parchment aside and looking down at Hermione.

Hermione scoffed. "It's because of work..."

"Did it stipulate that, anywhere in your contract, you were not permitted to inform a healer of your choice about what it is you've been doing?" Poppy asked.

Hermione had to consider that for a moment. "No," she said at last. "No, in fact, Philippa has encouraged all of us to tell a healer and a mind healer, if we see one, about what we do, because they cannot tell anyone else..."

"Yes, the Healer-Wixen Secrecy Vow," Poppy said, nodding with a fair amount of understanding as she continued to examine Hermione's Wellness Parchment. Her silver brows raised upwards then, and she shook her head. "My, my, that would do it..."

"Do what?" Hermione questioned, permitting her muscles to relax themselves in the comfortable chair that the healer had provided.

Poppy slowly raised her eyes, and waited until Hermione looked at her again. "Hermione, dear, are you aware of the Soulmate Gene?"

Hermione blinked. "Well, yes," she said at last, shaking her head. "It came up in Advanced History of Magic, as well as Advanced Arithmancy... But what does that have to do with me, Poppy?" she queried, biting down hard on her lower lip. "In order for any wixen to have the gene within them, they must have at least one magical parent..."

"Or come from a long line of Squibs," Poppy said quietly, so quietly that Hermione very nearly missed what she had said.

"Long line of...? Poppy, what aren't you telling me here?" she demanded, her voice low, deathly low, as she attempted to keep her temper.

Poppy snapped her fingers, her office chair coming around her desk, each of the expertly carved legs dancing upon the floor towards her, before she had down upon it. "It seems as if Harry was not the only casualty of Dumbledore's manipulations," she said softly, grimacing for a moment, before nodding her head. "You will recall Horace asking if you were a descendant of Hector Dagworth-Granger during your sixth-year?"

Hermione nodded; the man had seemed convinced that he was a relation of hers, and that she couldn't merely be a Muggleborn and so talented as she was... "Of course I remember. I told him I wasn't," she replied.

"No, dear," Poppy corrected her, "you are."

Hermione sputtered at Poppy's statement. "But that's impossible! I'm Muggleborn—"

"Yes, and an exceptionally powerful one," Poppy commended her. "However, it seems as if you are also the seven-times great-granddaughter of the eponymous wizard, Hermione."

Hermione swallowed. "And Dumbledore kept this from me?" she whispered, and, at Poppy's nod, she found herself shuddering. "Why?"

"Perhaps he thought it would be a distraction?" Poppy asked, spreading her hands. "All pupils who are Muggleborn submit to a physical upon their admittance to the school, during the first weekend after the welcoming feast."

Hermione inclined her head; she recalled her first trip to the infirmary, and how kind and patient Poppy had been, answering any questions she had. "There was a blood test..."

Poppy nodded. "There always is," she confirmed. "You were confirmed to be Hector Dagworth-Granger's seven-times great-granddaughter when the blood test returned the following week. I went to Dumbledore myself, and he told me I wasn't to tell you of it. Looking back now, I believe he didn't want the Dagworth-Granger estate, fortune, house elves, and any other valuables to come to you just yet. Perhaps he believed that, had you had them at your disposal, you could have figured out his manipulative tactics sooner, and used them against him."

Hermione felt the disgust rolling off her in waves. "I see," she replied bitterly. "Does the family have a library at their disposal?"

"All the old wixen families do, dear," Poppy confirmed.

Hermione nodded, hoping beyond hope that her new possessions would have something, anything, that she would need to crack the code of her case. "That's good, then," she said, and got to her feet, but felt a hand upon her shoulder.

"Hermione, we're not done," Poppy said quietly. "Sit back down, please."

Hermione's shoulders slumped, but she nevertheless returned to the chair on offer. "Right, the Soulmate Gene," she said, and waved her hand, wanting Poppy to continue. "Now that it's been established that it's possible for me to have it, I suppose you have an answer for me."

"Yes, and no," Poppy whispered, looking unsure all over again. "You see, dear, there is a permanent drain on your magic."

Hermione straightened up at this information. "Permanent drain...? For what reason?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "What can I do to fix it? Do I need to take a specialty potion? I know that Severus can..."

"No potion can fix this, Hermione," Poppy said softly, and Hermione shook her head.

"Poppy, I don't understand," she said, her voice positively trembling. "What are you trying to tell me here?"

Poppy's eyes locked with hers, and, as she spoke, her worst fears were confirmed. "Hermione, dear... Your soulmate is dead," she said quietly, and Hermione felt as if the entire world would swallow it up as her vision blackened and she was gone.