“Is there any bacon?” Ron’s lips smacked as he tried to chew more food than seemed physically possible. “I’m still starving.”



Hermione swallowed down an uncomfortably dry piece of toast. She wished she’d had the foresight to bring a book. At least then she’d have been able to shield her plate from Ron’s collection of crumbs, splatter and whatever else he dropped in an attempt to eat his body weight before breakfast was even over.



“Not yet, dear,” Mrs Weasley said. “You’ll have to wait a mo, I’ve only just got around to frying some.”



Ginny slumped backwards and groaned before leaning close to Hermione and whispering. “Save me some, please. I have a feeling Ron’s going to steal it all and this is the only free time for—you know.” Her eyes flashed to the ceiling before dropping back to Hermione.



She gave a conspiratorial wink as she rose from her seat and slipped from the kitchen.



Hermione watched blankly.



She hadn’t the faintest idea what Ginny was going on about. It might’ve been about stealing another extendable ear from Fred and George. They needed a new one after theirs had been confiscated on Thursday. It might’ve been about chatting with Harry as well. For all she knew, it might’ve been to have a few minutes solely to herself, which Hermione knew was blessedly rare in Grimmauld Place.



If she really had to guess, she’d say it was probably a combination of all three.



“Is Harry still sleeping?” Mrs Weasley asked as she flipped a few strips of bacon. “He’s normally up and about with you, Ron. Odd that he hasn’t come down yet.”



Ron coughed, spitting a few more crumbs across the table. “Erm,” He brought his fist to his mouth as he coughed again. “He’s, erm,”



Hermione blinked at Ron and watched as his face flushed. He seemed to be searching for a convenient lie, which worried Hermione to no end.



She thought they’d sorted through all of their lies last night. Harry’d finally managed to expose the ugly truth of his terrifying experiences over the last few weeks. It’d been a harrowing experience to listen to. It was even more startling to see Harry finally break through his fearful barriers and put his faith in someone other than himself though.



Well, in someone other than himself and Ron and Hermione.



She was glad Snape had stepped into a stable role for Harry, but she wished Ron hadn’t been quite so defensive when he’d learned about it. Snape wasn’t a walk in the park, but he’d been one of the few stable people in their lives for the last four years.



Hermione had her own worries as well, though she kept them to herself. Snape’s attachment to Harry’s mum felt eerily similar to Lupin and Sirius’s friendship with James. They’d each had close ties, but neither Lupin nor Sirius seemed willing to step into the role of parent. Rather, in her opinion, they enjoyed the role of something closer to an uncle.



Harry was in desperate need of someone who actually parented though. Hermione could see that easily enough.



Given what he’d told her and Ron about his childhood and first experiences within the magical world, Harry had been thrown from one chaotic and overwhelming experience to the next.



He had no idea what was realistic to expect of himself and what wasn’t. That much was obvious after they'd fought a troll in their first year.



Who willingly jumped on top of trolls?



She’d initially thought Harry was just mental and considered himself indestructible. According to her mum, that wasn’t entirely strange for kids, but then, Ron hadn’t jumped on top of the troll.



If anyone was less aware of their own limits and seemed more likely to jump on top of trolls, it was Ron.



Ron had truly been the more reasonable one. In that moment at least. At the time, she’d only been at Hogwarts for two months and she’d already known Ron as someone who didn’t always think things through, but who was well aware that trolls weren’t to be messed with.



She also knew Harry had decided to save her. Why he hadn’t gone to an adult first, she couldn’t have said.



She knew why now, of course. He didn’t trust adults.



He never had.



He couldn’t tell when he was in too much danger, but he knew intimately how dangerous it was if Ron or Hermione were present.



“He’s with Snape,” Ron said finally.



Mrs Weasley clicked her tongue. “That man. You didn’t leave Harry to walk by himself, did you? Or did Professor Snape collect him? I don’t want you leaving Harry alone, no matter how old he is mentally. This house isn’t suitable for small feet Ronald.”



“Yes!” Ron said quickly. “I walked him over and Snape seemed, erm.” He paused and his face flushed again.



Hermione squinted and tried to pick apart why Ron wouldn’t just tell the truth.



“Yes, go on,” Mrs Weasley nodded as she waved her tongs at him. “Professor Snape was what, dear?”



She had the distinct impression that Ron was more uncomfortable with his own emotions about what might’ve happened, that what had actually happened. That wasn’t what was strange though.



He’d left Harry alone with Snape, Hermione realized with shock. He’d left Harry willingly.



It hadn’t bothered him either. If it had, he would’ve gotten Hermione and the two would’ve gone to ensure Harry was alright at once. Ron wouldn’t have come downstairs and immediately started in on breakfast.



Of course, there was the chance he may have, but Hermione felt it was unlikely. Ron had expressed his issues with Snape quite plainly last night.



Ron poured himself a cup of tea. “He just seemed, you know, erm, himself? Snape, I mean.” He said weakly.



Mrs Weasley huffed and muttered something beneath her breath. The bacon popped in the skillet and the quiet patter of footsteps echoed from about them.



Hermione leaned forward and folded her hands as she stared pointedly at Ron.



Ron blinked back at her before quickly dropping his eyes to the faded blue mug. He clearly didn’t want her to spot whatever the issue was. He scratched at an old scar on his finger and squirmed in his seat as he bit at his inner cheek.



She wished she could pry apart his nervousness and get to the center of the issue.



Had Snape said something, or had Harry maybe?



It was difficult to guess. She knew Snape was more familiar with Harry than Ron was prepared for. It could easily be that Ron was nervous around Harry when Snape comforted him because Ron was Hermione and Harry’s comfort.



It was his family they were a part of and his innate knowledge they relied upon.



Harry and Ron would sniff at her if she ever said that aloud. They’d say Hermione was the brightest of the three, but she was painfully aware of her muggle childhood. She hadn’t had the same upbringing, nor did she have siblings to fall upon when she needed to. Ron gave them a family to come home to.



He might be struggling watching Harry grow into a family of his own and finding comfort there. She’d seen firsthand though, the small ways Snape had softened around Harry.



When she’d stolen Avery’s potion and needed Snape to help them, she’d been terrified and unsure if Snape would actually step up. Snape had been impatient with her, but the moment Harry seemed to sense that impatience, he’d stopped and comforted Harry.



It was hard to miss the way Harry responded too.



Mrs Weasley sat a plate of bacon before them and turned, pulling more strips from the packaging. Ron neglected to take any.



Something had happened. That much was clear.



“I have to use the loo.” Hermione said.



She stood and dropped a few strips onto Ginny’s plate before disappearing from the kitchen.



Harry was with Snape, Ron wouldn’t have lied about that.



Her thoughts spun as she climbed the stairs. Had something happened to Harry to cause Ron to be so nervous? Had he hurt himself or reacted poorly to something that’d scared him?



She hoped it hadn’t had anything to do with the graveyard. Harry’d been painfully insecure with his own discomfort around that topic, though she wished he’d felt safer around them to discuss it. She couldn’t imagine the terror that night caused.



Snape could imagine how Harry felt though. He’d spied on You-Know-Who long enough to know about what Harry went through.



She shook her head. If something truly terrible had happened, Ron would’ve gotten Mrs Weasley. Harry was likely alright, at least physically.



There was still a lot about that horrible night to be sorted out, but Hermione was hopeful Snape would help Harry handle it.



She rounded a bannister in time to spot Harry dash into a bedroom.



He was still in his pyjamas. That was odd.



Harry, much like Hermione, disliked to lay about in pyjamas. Of course, Hermione worried Harry’s preference had more to do with the Dursleys than enjoying being dressed and ready for the day.



If he and Ron had woken up and gone to visit Snape, Harry would’ve changed his clothes.



She snuck closer, sliding her nervous feet as softly as she could over the crooked and ancient floors. If Snape felt he was being eavesdropped on, he might react poorly.



It wouldn’t be good for Harry if Snape didn’t trust Ron and Hermione to respect his space.



Hermione paused. Should she snoop?



Snape hadn’t had an issue with Ron and Hermione eavesdropping on Sirius, nor had he said anything against them for snooping in Avery’s bag. He’d even given Hermione a spell to ensure objects were safe in the future. If that wasn’t an invitation to continue sneaking about, she didn’t know what was.



Snape had to know the three of them would get up to trouble as well. He knew they’d stick their noses into whatever they needed to, as often as they could.



Perhaps he expected to be tested while visiting Grimmauld Place.



She nodded firmly to herself and inched closer again.



A collection of withered black flowers packed into tall vases on her right could easily cover her. She opened a nearby door in case she’d need a closer escape route as well.



The idea that she was somehow betraying Harry’s trust by snooping, filtered through her thoughts. Harry might discover her, and think she didn’t believe him that Snape was trustworthy. He’d always trusted Ron and Hermione before, even when they found issues with his logic. He needed to know Ron and Hermione believed him.



Hermione believed him. She wanted to trust Snape as well, but Ron’s behaviour had been too strange to ignore.



She peeked through the crack in the doorway and spotted Harry quickly in the neat bedroom.



He was crawling overtop of soft looking bottle green covers as he chased after a small stuffed dog. The toy looked to be charmed to dance just out of reach, no matter how close Harry tried to get. It skipped back and forth as Harry huffed breathlessly after it.



To Hermione’s surprise, Snape didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by Harry’s excited movement.



He leant against the headboard and paged slowly through the large book in his lap, jotting notes in the margins. He didn’t look angry when Harry stepped over his legs or tripped on the cover. He acted as if he hardly noticed it at all.



Her throat tightened as the memory of laying in her own parent’s bed flashed behind her eyes.



Harry quietly giggled as the dog bounced out of reach again and toppled over the side of the bed. He quickly crept after it and peeked over the edge.



Hermione shuffled on her feet as she snuck closer as well.



Harry didn’t look physically hurt, or as if he’d had a bad reaction to a memory. He didn’t look as if anything was wrong at all. His eyes were narrowed and he seemed to be debating how best to pounce on the stuffed dog.



He reminded Hermione painfully of how he looked after spotting the snitch during Quidditch.



Maybe Ron had just been bothered by Harry wanting to be close to Snape?



Something told her that was unlikely. Ron wouldn’t have been so nervous about telling Mrs Weasley if Harry just wanted to be by Snape. He’d likely have thought it was odd and want to comment on it.



Harry inched closer to the edge of the bed and his small arm dangled over the side as he reached for the dog. His tongue slipped between his teeth in focus.



Hermione wished he’d felt more comfortable around her and Ron at this age. He was quite sweet.



She knew he wasn’t entirely six of course, as he was clearly fifteen some of the time. It’d been terrible to watch him curled tightly against Sirius’s side when she’d first seen him though. He’d been so uncomfortable and if he’d been fully fifteen, Hermione knew he’d have been able to negotiate with his fear a bit less obviously.



Although, she hadn’t been fully positive about his age until Harry’d admitted his cousin had played with Lego’s. All of her research had been proven by that comment.



Snape added another note in the margins. A crease cut across his forehead as he squinted at what he’d written when Harry tipped and went head first over the bed.



Hermione squeaked, but before she could run into the bedroom, Snape flicked his wand and caught him in midair.



A small shocked noise escaped from Harry as he flipped head over heels again before floating carefully back onto the bed. He seemed confused as he landed, though only for a moment.



“A bit overexcited, are you?” Snape asked.



Harry climbed to unsteady feet and wobbled dizzily over to Snape before crawling into his lap.



“Ah.” Snape hummed as he pulled Harry securely to him.



Hermione wished she knew what he’d guessed.



He flicked his wand once more, cancelling the charm on the stuffed dog and summoning it before setting it aside.



Harry found the pendant on his mum’s necklace and clutched it close.



“Deep breaths.” Snape said as he carded a hand through Harry’s hair. “Six years olds have poor motor function. Falling happens more often than you’re used to.”



Harry huffed and cuddled closer.



She idly wondered if she’d somehow left Grimmauld Place and missed her own departure.



She couldn’t begin to organize her thoughts. It felt as if they fired at random as she watched the two interact. Harry wasn’t one to reach out, nor did Snape seem the type to encourage affection.



Her fists clenched at her thoughts. Ridiculous preconceived notions could never stand up to hard observations. She knew that better than most. Malfoy had drilled it into her for the last four years and she’d make sure he knew muggleborns were every bit as skilled and dangerous as purebloods.



Malfoy didn’t matter now though. Harry did.



Snape had clearly shown Harry affection too. She’d watched him do exactly that on the stairs before they had that dreadful conversation with Dumbledore.



She was very glad to see Harry had discovered how affection and comfort were significantly more worthwhile than he’d initially seemed to think.



He looked far more calm than she was used to seeing as well.



Harry’d always seemed to enjoy being hugged. It wasn’t often that he reached for them first though, not unless Ron or Hermione were in obvious distress, or he hadn’t seen them since term ended.



She dearly wanted to knock on the door and see how Snape would react, but a fierce voice in the back of her mind refused to allow that. Harry deserved his peace.



So did Snape.



What had she gathered then?



Lost in her thoughts, she slipped as quietly down the hallway as possible.



Harry was still in pyjamas, though he looked alright. He was doing well with Snape too. She was very glad to see some of his normal excitement and energy back after the graveyard. It’d been sorely missed.



She wondered if Harry had woken up late last night and needed Snape, and Ron willingly left to get him?



That could easily have happened.



“Miss Granger.” Snape said.



Hermione froze as ice shot through her at the sound of Snape’s voice echoing from behind.



Had he noticed her and never let on? Why hadn’t he said something? Was Harry disappointed in her? Was she in trouble? She swore violently in her head and worried if she’d ruined everything for them.



She dredged up the courage to turn around and apologize, but spotted Fred and George snickering breathlessly from inside the bathroom to her left.



“New product, Hermione.” George said, half falling into Fred as he continued to laugh.



“Meet our brand new Mimicry Monkeys.” Fred smiled and held up a grotesque and misshapen spotted monkey. “They really do work, don’t they?” He said. “All you need is a sample of your target voice and—”



“If you bring those things to Hogwarts I’ll confiscate them!” She snapped. “I’m a prefect now, you know?”



George’s face soured. “No more extendable ears for you lot then.” He clicked his tongue at her. “The lengths we go to, in order to provide you with quality entertainment is—”



“Weasley.” Snape’s voice echoed again, though this time significantly closer.



Both Fred and George paled and their eyes flashed above Hermione’s shoulder.



Hermione also tossed a nervous look over her shoulder and smiled weakly at Harry. It was difficult to separate her instinctual fear of Snape despite his recent actions. She’d grow into it.



Snape dropped a hand over Harry’s head and Harry in turn rocked on his heels and leaned into Snape.



“Is this bathroom currently in use, or is this where you congregate now.” Snape asked.



Fred and George each shook their heads and fell over themselves as they escaped down the hallway. A heavy looking sack was passed between the two as they rounded the corner, but not before Snape got an eyeful of their new product.



“Miss Granger, are you in line?” Snape asked tiredly as he turned back toward Hermione.



Hermione jerked. “Yes!” She said quickly before darting into the bathroom and shut the door. The convenient lie was too good to pass up. She threw the lock and tried to slow her breathing.



“I’ll wait for you downstairs.” The door muffled Snape’s voice.



“Ok!” Harry called after him, equally muffled.



Hermione breathed deeply as the realization that her spying hadn’t ruined anything between Harry and Snape or Harry and Hermione sank in.



She smiled to herself. They were going to be alright. Snape was on their side and he took good care of Harry. Ron had come around as well, significantly faster than Hermione had expected him to.



She pretended to use the loo and wondered all the while if either Ron or Harry would be willing to go over their study plans as they ate.