Hermione Granger sneezed. Loudly.
Didn't anyone clean this place?
It was the fourth week of futile searching on the behalf of one Harry Evans, her best friend and constant companion. Their other best friend, Ron Weasley, had just recently returned from his home, the Burrow, where he had been plaguing his parents about Lily Evans, and what they knew about her. From what his letters produced, however, it wasn't much. Either that, or- as Ron thought- they weren't willing to tell him. She sighed.
Hermione sat down for a moment, letting her sore feet rest. She felt so bad that she couldn't seem to dig up the slightest bit of information on Lily Evans, other than what was common knowledge.
Lily had been a Gryffindor at school, although not well-known for anything beyond her academic achievements. Whispers filtered through the school that she had kept company with less-than-desirable people, but Hermione's instincts told her that undesirable meant 'unpopular', in this case. Lily Evans had been a beautiful girl, and then woman, and other than the whispers, very little could be said against her. She was a war-hero, famous for the fact of her open defiance of You-Know-Who, but right now, Hermione needed information on Lily Evans, mother of Harry Evans. Unfortunately, it seemed that her exploits between graduation and her death overshadowed anything during her school years.
Poor Harry had decided that, after nearly dying in the Chamber of Secrets last year, he needed to find out more about his mother, and hopefully through that, his father. No-one had a clue, it seemed, as to who Harry's father might have been. His aunt had been no help; Harry had figured out that, through his aunt's blusterings, that even she hadn't known who Harry's father was. He had precious few clues as to who his mother had been; other Professors at school had told him, but he wanted to know more than his mother was beautiful, intelligent, and bold. Harry wanted to know things like what her favourite colour was, what she liked to eat, and most importantly- why didn't anyone know who his father was?
There were very few clues, to be sure. Hagrid had recovered a small box from Godric's Hollow on one cold October night, and had kept it for Harry. He, like many other adults, either feigned ignorance or changed the subject when Harry had brought up the question of his parentage. Hermione really had to wonder why everyone seemed so keen on not talking about it. But in any case, the box hadn't helped much at all. There were a few pieces of jewelry, some cuff-links, a note or two in now-illegible handwriting... but it had meant so much to Harry, who had sat in his dorm room for hours on end, rolling a ring between his fingers or trying to decipher the note. In the end, he had given Ron the cuff-links and Hermione a little bracelet. Both had tried to refuse it, until Harry had threatened to hex them. 'I think my mum would be pleased if I gave it to you,' he had said. 'You're my best friends, and you're helping me with this.'
So Hermione had a bracelet on her wrist, and Ron had charmed the cuff-links to stick onto his schoolbag, and Harry wore a heavy ring on his left hand, a man's ring, the only possible link to his father.
'Have you found anything yet?' came a quiet voice. Harry wandered into the room, followed by a tall and lanky Ron. Both flopped onto the floor, sitting at Hermione's feet.
'Not yet,' she said. 'But I will.'
'I know you will, Hermione,' Harry said, smiling. 'You always do.' Hermione blushed slightly, pleased at the compliment.
'Adults are good for fuck-all sometimes,' Ron commented.
'RON!' said Hermione, sounding scandalised. 'I swear, one day a Professor is going to overhear you cursing and wash your mouth out with dragon's blood.'
'That might be a good thing,' Harry said. Hermione arched an eyebrow. 'We just had to eat lunch at Hagrid's,' he explained.
'I'm sorry,' Hermione said, giggling.
'Not as sorry as I am,' Ron said. He groaned. 'Or my stomach, for that matter.'
'My tongue isn't particularly happy at the moment either,' Harry chuckled. He patted it stomach. 'All this food might make me fall off my broom tomorrow.'
'Maybe you'll fall on Diggory,' Ron said. 'Won't Wood be happy about that?' The threesome enjoyed a hearty laugh, bad food and sore feet forgotten as the image of Harry bearing down on the Hufflepuff Seeker and knocking him out flew through their minds.
'It's just as well that we don't have a game tomorrow,' Harry said. 'It's a Hogsmeade trip. It should be fun, after practise.'
'I'm surprised you got your jerk of an uncle to sign the paper,' Ron said.
'Please don't remind me of the Dursleys,' Harry moaned. 'I'm thinking happy things right now. Like chocolate frogs. Or snowball fights.' A dreamy look covered Harry's face. 'Or frozen chocolate frog snowballs pelting Malfoy in the face.'
'What? And waste a perfectly good Chocolate frog? Have you lost it?' Ron exclaimed in mock horror. 'Crabbe and Goyle would probably just lick it off his face!' Harry and Hermione let out a loud resounding ew.
'It's almost time for our last class,' Hermione said. Her stomach grumbled, and she groaned. 'I should have stopped by the Great Hall before I came here.' Harry and Ron dug in their pockets and produced a few pieces of left-over candy.
'This should hold you over,' Ron said, handing her a few chocolate frogs.
'Thanks,' she said gratefully. She picked up a small, rough sack and put in her schoolbag. 'I'll look at these after dinner tonight; I don't think I'll be able to think straight until I get some real food in me.'
'Maybe we'll actually be able to answer questions in class,' Harry joked, earning him a jab in the ribs. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulder, quickly followed by Ron's.
'Oh, no,' Hermione moaned. They were in front of a mirror. 'Look, I'm covered in dust,'
'We all look rather villainous,' Ron said, smirking and pointing at the mirror. 'Oh, smile, Hermione. It's Friday and tomorrow's a Hogsmeade trip. Smile!'
Hermione chuckled and slipped her arm around the waists of her best friends. They looked at their reflections in the mirror, smiling.
'Heroes of Hogwarts most in need of a bath is more like it,' Harry said. 'Come on, off to class before Hermione loses her head.'
Laughing loudly, the trio swept down the hallway, talking and giggling and generally enjoying themselves. The three had learnt to appreciate the smaller moments in their school existence when the most troublesome thing was staying awake in class.
Hermione sat in the Common Room, alone. Harry and Ron had gone to bed, and luckily, everyone had retreated to their dorm rooms. It wasn't unusual for Hermione to stay in the Common Room, as her dorm-mates were notorious for late night giggle fests. As soon as she judged it safe, she opened her bad and dug in the contents of the burlap sack.
It was a bag that had once belonged to Caradoc Dearborn, Colin Creevey's photographic ancestor and Order member. Hermione guessed that, since Caradoc had attending Hogwarts for a few of the same years as Lily, he might have taken some pictures of her. If nothing else, Harry would appreciate them.
Most of them were rather uninteresting. She found a few humourous ones of Ron's parents, but most were of students she didn't know or care about. She was about to give up and head to bed when she found a picture, upside down, near the bottom of the stack.
It was Lily Evans. And two boys.
Photo-Lily was smiling broadly, in the way where you know the person is two seconds away from bursting into loud laughter. She was flanked by two boys, one who had his arm around her waist, and the other with an arm wound loosely across his shoulder. They were all smiling, and photo-Lily and the boy on her left occasionally snuck a look at one another.
It wasn't the picture itself that caused her jaw to drop, although it was most obviously a large find. It was the boys flanking Lily.
One was their current Defence Professor, Remus Lupin. Photo-Lupin had slightly longer hair, with no grey in it, but there was no mistaking that smile that Hermione had seen pop out in class from time to time.
The other was more surprising.
It was their silent-except-for-snark Potions Master, Severus Snape.
And he was the one sneaking looks at Lily.
'Hermione?'
She whipped her head around to see a sandy-eyed Harry shuffle down the stairs, followed by Ron, safely cocooned in a swath of heavy quilts.
'Harry, I've found something,' she said, a bit breathlessly. She motioned for them to come over, then clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. 'Trust me,' she said, and then showed him a picture. A sort of loud, strangled gasp erupted from Harry's face, safely muffled by Hermione's hand, as he took the photograph from her fingers.
'I think we're on to something,' Ron said in awe. 'Hermione, you're bloody amazing, d'you know that?'
'Yes, you are,' Harry said hoarsely. He held the photograph and watched his mother giggle slightly at him, while Professor Lupin and Professor Snape smiled and smirked, Remus even making a slightly rude hand gesture. The three stared in silence for a while, before Harry put the photograph down.
'Thank you,' he said quietly. Hermione put her head on his shoulder and Ron patted his arm.
'I think I'm skipping Quidditch practise tomorrow,' Harry said. 'There's no way I'll be able to concentrate. Hermione, where'd you find this?'
'I heard that someone named Caradoc Dearborn took a lot of pictures at school,' Hermione said. 'And he was listed in some paper about people killed in the war against Voldemort. I dug a little more, and it said that he attended school around the same time as your mum, and he was a photographer. I've been narrowing down people who attended Hogwarts at least one year with your mum and who were known to fight against You-Know-Who. I was almost at the end of the list when I found his name. There was a stack of pictures that he'd taken...'
Harry flipped it around, to see if there was anything in the back.
Remus John Lupin, Lily Marie Evans, Severus Hadrian Snape, 77. A.D.
'Marie,' Harry said. 'That was my great-grandmother's name.' He squinted. 'But I'm pretty sure that doesn't say Caradoc Dearborn.'
'Not the same handwriting as the person who wrote the notes in your mother's box, either,' Hermione commented.
'A... A and then a D, I think,' Ron said. He whistled. 'More questions.'
'Lots of questions,' Hermione said. She twiddled her thumbs. 'I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight.'
'Me neither,' chorused Harry and Ron.
'Hey, maybe there's more in here,' Ron said. 'Come on, let's look.'
And so for the remainder of the cold night, the trio searched through pictures, laughing at some, showing one another what they'd found, occasionally coming across other pictures of Lily Evans, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin. They decided that they would go to Hogsmeade and corner their cheerful Defence Professor. All three admitted to being slightly more apprehensive about cornering Snape.
They quietly hid the pictures in Hermione's bag and fled to their appropriate washrooms to freshen up, and descended down with their Housemates for breakfast and beyond.
The threesome marched through the snow, Harry and Ron occasionally having to pull Hermione up and out of a particularly deep snowdrift. They stopped to pick up some sweets, new quills for Hermione, and Harry purchased a battered manuscript chronicling the height of the war against Voldemort, always on the look-out for anything that might contain information on his mother. With pockets full of candy and minds filled with questions, they plowed their way towards the Three Broomstick, spotting a certain new Professor sitting alone at the other end. Harry squared his shoulders and walked over to him, Hermione and Ron flanking him.
'Why, hello Harry! Ron, Hermione, how are you three doing today?' Remus greeted them cheerfully, raising his mug of butterbeer towards them. His smile faltered slightly when they looked at him dolefully. 'Is there something I can help you with?'
Harry leant over and started digging in Hermione's bag as she leveled a blank stare at him, trying to remain her composure.
'I wanted to ask you about this,' Harry said, Holding out the picture. Remus frowned, but took it. His face tightened as he saw what it was.
'I think,' he said quietly, 'that you had better sit down and have a talk with me, Harry.'
'Hermione and Ron too,' he said stubbornly. 'They've been helping me dig stuff up on my mum.' He crossed his arms defiantly.
Remus seemed to age decades in the space between seeing the picture and Harry's deciding that Ron and Hermione would stay.
'All right,' he said softly. 'But this will take a while. But, Harry, you must promise me one thing.'
'What?' Harry asked.
'That you will not reveal this information to anyone else,' Remus said. 'At least not yet,' he amended. 'Believe me when I say I have my reasons, and they will make sense to you before the end.'
'But-' Harry said furiously.
'Harry,' Hermione said softly, putting a hand on her arm. 'Come on. It'll be okay. At least Ron and I will know, right?'
'Right,' said Harry shortly. He patted her hand with his own and then sat down, Hermione and Ron sitting on either side of him.
Remus seemed absorbed by the delicate filigree of his mug, staring at the shiny metal. 'My story,' he said slowly, 'our story, actually begins much the same as yours, Harry.'
'What do you mean?' Ron asked.
Remus smiled. 'I mean, Ron,' he said softly, 'is that the first time I boarded the train to go to Hogwarts, I couldn't find a seat, and the only compartment I could find had a friendly red-headed person in it....'