A/N: This is my first submission to MuggleNet. I've been writing stories for a while now, and am looking forward to getting more stories published on MuggleNet as well. Reviews are appriciated. Thank you!

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Walking slowly down Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger wasn’t looking where she was going … she should have been, but she was smiling instead, looking down at the little treasure she had found. It had been years since she had seen it, and she thought it had been lost at Hogwarts, and now she found it again. Could it be that she had dropped it at the edge of Diagon Alley all those years ago, and it had been here all this time, sitting near the corner of the bookstore, covered with dust, and only recently knocked away to just outside the doorway to Flourish and Blots? She started to place it into the pocket of her robe, but ran headlong into someone instead and fell backwards; a clattering sound came as the object fell to the cobblestones.

“You dunderhead, watch where you’re going!” came the acerbic remark. Hermione winced and looked up from where she was sprawled on the street.

“Umm … Professor Snape? I’m sorry, sir,” she said, and then started looking around for her treasure. She felt a surge of panic and regret … it had meant a lot to her, and she had been so sad when she’d lost it the first time.

Hermione had first found it at Stonehenge, under a small rock when her family visited there when she was seven years old. Her childhood self had felt an immediate spark of recognition, there was something there that was magical, though at the time she didn’t truly understand its significance. She had carried it for eight years, and had only noticed it missing after the horrible day she had been hexed by Malfoy in the dungeon corridor outside Potions class.

“What in Merlin’s name are you crawling on the ground for, Miss Granger?” Severus Snape demanded to know. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

“I dropped something,” Hermione replied, now on hands and knees, searching for the object small object. The cobblestones were damp from a morning shower; a few stones were cracked here and there. Could those cracks possibly be large enough for it to fall within? It was the size of a large marble, less than an inch in diameter. She crawled to the edge of the street, right up to the wall, thankful that at least it wasn’t too crowded.

She had discovered, through study and research … and a few revealing spells, that it was a talisman imbued with protective powers, and a potent spell … she wasn’t sure if it would really work. She had discovered an ancient spell connected to it, which would lead the bearer of the artefact to find their true love.

Hermione wasn’t sure she believed it any longer, that was the stuff of childhood fancy, but she wasn’t going to lose it again! Somehow, though it seemed illogical to hold such an attachment to such a thing, it wasn’t even pretty, and she had never wanted to show it off to anyone as one would a favourite bauble … she’d always kept it in a pocket, always with her, and always hidden. It had always been like a treasure to her.

She heard Professor Snape’s boot steps walk away behind her, but didn’t bother looking after him. It would figure that he wouldn’t bother to offer to assist her, the git. Frustrated and nearing tears, Hermione stood and took a deep breath, and then began walking in small circles, spiralling outward from where she had run into her former Potions professor, just like the little spirals of knot work etched into the stone, as she scanned the ground. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a shiny object … it was black, dull, though it had had a sheen in areas from where she had held it for so long. She had even seen the green paint in the crevice of the etching; it had been there since she was nine, and after seven years lost, it had remained.

Hermione stopped her circular path and looked up the street, and was puzzled to see the black-robed, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Professor looking down at the ground too, checking along the edge of Diagon alley. Then, she saw him crouch down and pick up something off the ground, holding it between a long, narrow thumb and forefinger.

“Professor Snape!” she called, rushing to him. He’d found it.

“What?” he snarled.

“You found it … thanks, I really appreciate it, sir,” she said breathlessly.

“What are you talking about?” he hissed. “I found something I dropped earlier today. As if I would stand around to help you?” he sneered.

Hermione’s jaw dropped, and her eyes focused on the small, round object in his grasp. “That’s … it’s … mine, sir,” she stammered.

“No, it’s mine. It has been in my possession for a number of years, and it is a talisman of an ancient power, the likes of which you wouldn’t understand.”

Hermione’s heart pounded as she glanced up from Snape’s hand, to his scowling face, all hard angles and harsh features.

“I … I lost it … at Hogwarts … it’s mine, sir. See the green speck of paint? That’s left from where I dropped it on an oil painting I was working on when I was nine.”

Snape’s black brows drew together as he frowned, glaring down at the stone, seeing clearly the speck of green paint. He glanced back at her, realizing there was no way she could have seen that speck of paint, it was facing his direction. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he looked down his long nose at the bushy haired witch who had been the annoying know-it-all in his class for seven long years.

“Miss Granger … are you sure … no … I don’t believe it,” he whispered.

Hermione looked back up, meeting his black eyes and matching his expression of surprise. It couldn’t be … it just couldn’t be.

“I … I’ve read about it … ” she began, but words failed her.

Snape dropped his hand, now holding the round talisman in his upward-facing palm, staring down at it.

“Miss Granger … I … this is ancient magic … where did you find it … originally?”

“Stonehenge.”

They looked at each other another long moment, each realizing the implication. It was an ancient stone … ancient magic, not diluted, but likely escalating in power through the untold centuries in that place of ancient magic.

“Miss Granger, it seems I was mistaken; it is yours after all,” he whispered, holding the stone out to her.

Nearly automatically, she took it, watching in stunned silence as Snape turned and began stalking away from her, his black robes billowing behind him.

“Wait!” she called. He stopped, but did not turn, and she ran to catch up. “If this is what I think … is it really?”

His thin lips twisted as he looked back at her. “If you applied your typical research habits to learning of its origins … then, yes.”

“But … the legend … ”

Snape’s thin lips tightened, pursing together until they were nearly white. “Yes … the legend, such an incredible legend for such a small, unassuming stone.”

“Is that why you carried it?” Hermione asked softly.

Snape swallowed thickly, his nostrils flared as he let out a deep breath. “Miss Granger … legends are merely fairy tales, given more meaning and depth through the years than what is truly there,” he nearly hissed. Hermione’s throat constricted and she nodded stiffly, feeling ridiculous. They stood in silence for several moments, Hermione was surprised he hadn’t left. Instead she saw a slight flicker in his black eyes, a glinting as he looked to her hand and then back to her brown eyes.

“However,” he continued, murmuring softly, “Further research might not be remiss; there are some few legends that are steeped in truth. One never knows when they might find an answer to their search in the most unlikely of places.” His eyes pierced hers, seeming to bore deep into Hermione’s as she watched him, feeling a strange, unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach. Swiftly, he turned and strode away, black robes billowing behind him.

Hermione’s hand tingled, and when she looked down she gasped…her worn, black stone was swirling … the knot work glowing with an inner light as her body was covered in the prickling of chill bumps. It was the first of the signs she’d read of in the legend…the first step on a new road, in the unlikeliest, and most unexpected circumstances. Clutching the small stone tightly, and taking a deep breath, she looked up to the black robed form, now distant, just as he turned back to look at her, an expression she had never before seen was on his face for but a moment, and then he was gone.

No … not gone, not really. She knew where he was … and his last words to her … for him, it was clearly an invitation. When she opened her hand again, the glow was ebbing. She couldn’t help but wonder at the comparison between the unlikely, unassuming exterior of her little stone and how it glowed with an inner light, and the unassuming exterior of the man known as Severus Snape.