The Final Term

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Hermione and Anthony rearranged all the chairs in their sitting room. The first Prefects meeting of the term would start soon.

"Hermione, you're—you're married, right?" Anthony paused, both hands on the back of a chair.

"Yes."

"To…who?"

Hermione moved any decorative pillows over to the bookshelf. "Harry."

Anthony ducked his head. "People were asking me. And my parents."

"What do you mean?" A chill rolled down her back.

"Asking for me to confirm." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Snatchers, I think they were. They said they didn't believe it. Wanted to make sure it wasn't me. Searched my house, looking for you, and all that."

Hermione chewed on her thumb nail.

He sighed and looked around the room. "I'm going to move back into the tower. After the meeting." Then he smiled at her, trying to be cheerful. "But hey, more room for you and Harry in here. Congratulations, and all. I never said but I think you two will be brilliant together."

She cleared her throat. "Thanks. And sorry, about—"

"Nah, don't start with that," Anthony said, waving her off. "It's been a bit lonesome in here by ourselves, anyway, at least I think so."

"Well, I don't disagree," she said on a sigh. She fiddled with one of her curls. "I'm sure I could ask to be moved into a different room."

"No, don't worry about it. I am quite firm on this."

"Alright. But I really am sorry."

He took a moment to think about it. "I accept your apology and I forgive you. But you will have to help me sort these books tonight—I think they got mixed up."

Their smiles were of the sad, commiserating sort. They were spared more depressing conversation by a knock at the door. Hermione pulled it open and left it that way so the other Prefects could walk in unhindered. Right on time, every seat but one was filled.

Hermione did a quick count, ignoring the Slytherins glares. "Where's Luna?"

The other Ravenclaws said they hadn't seen her since before the hols.

Hermione's heart jumped into her mouth. Anthony had to lead the meeting.

.

The lab was quiet. Hermione, rather, had been quiet since Sunday night. Severus didn't know anybody who would tag Hermione Granger as 'quiet', so he was a tad concerned.

That blasted Order party had been a disaster. No doubt it was still on her mind a week later, just how right he had been. Already people whispered about how unfortunate it was to be a Snape. How there must be something wrong with her faculties. It was his own fault, that people thought him capable of—

Severus set down the knife. He was a bastard, but would never sink to such levels of depravity, physically harming someone who would put trust enough in him as to marry him.

Hermione tidied up her corner of the lab after finishing the last potion Madam Pomfrey required. When she turned to him, he could see the white of her teeth pinching part of her bottom lip.

Voice quiet, she asked, "Do you know where Luna is?"

He shook his head.

Hermione said, "She's not in the castle."

They both heard someone in the midst of a rhyme. Severus rolled his eyes. A poem about lazy Mudbloods.

Amycus Carrow's guffaw shot through the open door to the lab. Hermione's face turned red. The sham of a teacher asked the third-years to teach him the rhyme.

 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 II  SS/HG ✔️Where stories live. Discover now