#verse:hp

location: lily's flat muse: lily evans notes: severus attempts to apologize

The words sat at the back of his throat. He knew she deserved an apology, but those didn't come easy to him. Well, it was more so that they were out of desperation. They were more of a grovel than they were an apology. To Severus, Lily deserved a real apology. One that was carefully thought out. One that, even if she never accepted and she simply turned away, Severus felt was worth the while.

location: dumbledore's army reunion muse: neville longbottom

The party seemed to float around her. She had gone because Ginny had asked her to go. These kinds of gatherings were never her thing. Much too chatter, noise and dancing for her liking. She'd had preferred a small gathering at a tavern or coffee shop, but the insistence on it being an event was out of her control.

location: muse: ginny weasley

The beginning of the fiscal year made his job more and more difficult. Investment banking was easy if you knew how to gamble. Blaise was one of those lucky few. Unfortunately, the people who employed him were not those lucky few. Ignored advice took a few years off of his life, especially when the client would turn their blame to him. He was tired. He was ready to go home. And his time at the bank was coming to a close. Of course, someone had to show up at the end of his shift.

location: ministry of magic, department of health

Andromeda hated the bureaucracy that plagued every aspect of the Ministry. With the rise of tensions between the purebloods and those without the elite status, the amount of bizarre and horrible encounters have been ramping up at an obscene degree. As cases rose, St. Mungo's coffers were being bled dry.

Still, it was a few days before Christmas and Sophie came home from shopping for her father’s gifts, the ones he expected and had given her a break from his normal experiments and abuse to go get. She’d stayed out until the moment she had to be back, and surprise, he had a Christmas gift for himself ready to be used when she got home. He was going to induce pain, that’s what he always said, like she wasn’t a living, breathing, feeling, human being; like she wasn’t his daughter, he wanted to see how far he could break her before her instinct to protect herself with magic kicked in. He had been doing this for a while now, years. Now he was seeing if she was able to take more and more pain before breaking. This time, however, he planned to let her do the magic, because he wanted a chance to study her more consistently. Year round. But he wasn’t ready to share that information. Everything happened quickly, she hadn’t even had a chance to set her bags down before his hand gripped around her hair and he began inducing pain.

Needless to say, by the time the night was just beginning, Sophie was in a heap on the floor, fresh blood spilling from her nose, vivid bruises blooming to life on her skin, and with one last kick to the stomach, her father left her to go get a glass of water and a pack of cigarettes. Apparently beating your child senseless was a tiring task and he’d run out of cigarettes that he didn’t so much smoke as burn her with. She struggled for a few moments to get up, but everything hurt. She was dizzy and her muscles seemed to pulse around her bones, under her skin. When he came back, the man had a malicious look in his eyes, and something from the garage in his hands.

The magic didn’t come until the audible snapping of one of her ribs happened. She didn’t know how she did it, but her father flew across the room and into the wall. The impact seemed to be enough to knock him out and she sobbed, knowing that it was only a matter of time until the letter from the Ministry came of underaged magic came. Still, she fought through it, because if nothing else, Sophie Hallowell was a fighter. It took her a few minutes to get up, but she did. She went up to her room and began throwing everything that she could fit into her trunk and backpack. She was not coming back to this place ever again. She was going to stay with Hugo for a few days, and then she’d figure something else out. She couldn’t take her father on her own, especially if she was going to be expelled.

After stealing all of the cash she could find in her father’s room, she pulled on her coat, took out her wand, and struggled with her things to the curb. Quickly enough, the Knight bus appeared and she gave them Hugo’s address. Her shirt had a small pool of blood on it and she was a wreck, but the attendant didn’t ask any questions. Unfortunately, when she stepped off the bus at her destination, her face fell, the lights in the house weren’t on. Certainly, it wasn’t late enough for them to be in bed. She trekked up to the door and rang the bell, then knocked, but no one came. She tried again, and again, but no one was home. Feeling defeated, she sat on the steps and broke down. She sobbed into her hands, the pressure and violence in which her body shook only made her cry harder. Already, she could feel the bits of her exposed skin being bitten by the cold air, but she was in too much pain and mental turmoil to care. She tried to calm herself, telling herself that Hugo would be home soon, he probably was eating dinner somewhere, or doing something with Ivanna, but as minutes turned to an hour and an hour turned to a bit more, she felt defeated. Sophie’s skin was burning from the cold and her exhaustion was setting in. She needed to get inside, get some help. Her eyes, with heavy lids, moved over to the house next door. The lights were on, some of them, and she forced herself to her feet, the only thing penetrating the emptiness that she felt was the pain and exertion. It took a few moments, though she’d left her things, and a small bit of blood on Hugo’s steps, to get over to the door. Her hand tightening into a fist and lifting to knock on the door...weakly, but enough, before she slumped against the door to hold herself up, only to go tumbling inward when it was opened.

“I need help.”

Still, it was a few days before Christmas and Sophie came home from shopping for her father’s gifts, and he was in a mood. He had had a stressful day at work and it was time to take things out on his daughter, after months of having no one to rough up. It was the little things she did that started setting him off, she’d gotten the floor wet with her boots and burned the gingersnaps, which her mother used to make every year at Christmas time. Needless to say, by the time the night was just beginning, Sophie was in a heap on the floor, fresh blood spilling from her nose, vivid bruises blooming to life on her skin, and with one last kick to the stomach, her father left her, telling her to clean up the mess in the kitchen before he got home. She struggled, for a while to get up, but when she did, she made for her room, throwing everything she could into her trunk and backpack. She was not coming back to this place ever again. She was going to live with Hugo, at least until she could figure something else out. She couldn’t take her father on her own.

After stealing all of the cash she could find in his room, she pulled on her coat, pulling out her wand, and walking the trunk to the curb. Quick enough, the Knight bus appeared and she gave them Hugo’s address. Unfortunately, when she stepped off the bus at her destination, her face fell, the lights in the house weren’t on. Certainly, it wasn’t late enough for them to be in bed. She trekked up to the door and rang the bell, then knocked, but no one came. She tried again, and again, but no one was home. Feeling defeated, she sat on the steps, crying into her hands, already feeling them being bitten by the cold air. She tried to calm herself, telling herself that Hugo would be home soon, he probably was eating dinner somewhere, or doing something with Ivanna. But minutes turned to an hour and an hour turned to a bit more. Sophie’s skin was burning from the cold and she was exhausted. Her eyes fell closed, and the girl slipped into unconsciousness.

‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve and all through the house, screams and pleas could be heard, even the neighbors couldn’t tune it out. However, the neighbors continued cooking their dinners and watching television, paying no mind to the teen that was getting a beating from her father. They never paid any mind, the only one that had ever said anything before was an elderly lady that lived next door, but she’d passed away before Sophie’s mother had died, so the girl was left on her own to face the monster down the hall.

It was a big blow out. This time he’d found her mother’s locket, the one Sophie had managed to get her hands on just before her mother was buried. She remembered the night she’d grabbed it, her father wanted to bury her mother with it, but while he was talking to his brother downstairs, Sophie knicked it from the paper bag that held all of the things that her mum had gone into the hospital with. Her mum had always promised her that she could have it when she was older, and she wasn’t going to let that one piece of her mother go, not without a fight. So, when her father asked if she’d seen it, she shook her head and he thought that someone at the hospital had screwed up, and man, did he give them hell. As badly as she felt about it, she needed that part of her mother, especially when her things that once sat in drawers were boxed up and put in the attic. Her scent didn’t fill the house anymore, it wasn’t on the aprons in the kitchen, her sweater didn’t hang by the door. The locket was all Sophie had when she went back to Hogwarts after the summer.

It was her fault that he found out, really, she’d forgotten to leave it at the castle when she went home for the holiday. She tucked it into her trunk before she got off the train, but the night before Christmas Eve, after coming home from a day of shopping for her father’s gifts, she was chilled to the bone and pulled out her sweater from the trunk, and her locket caught on the yarn of her sleeve. She didn’t know it until she brought two hot chocolates and some biscuits into the sitting room to share with her father, and something fell to the floor with a dull thud. Her father reached down and in that instant, he went from pleased with his daughter, to more furious than he’d ever been with her. The only time she’d seen him so angry was after she and her mother returned from Paris, after they’d tried to run when she was just a child.

Mugs shattered on the floor, hot liquid burning her sock clad feet as the cigarette in his hand pressed against her collarbone. Then the chaos broke out; screaming, hitting, slapping, yelling, punching, throwing, shaking, squeezing, slamming, crying, begging, apologizing, struggling...

Then there was blackness.

When Sophie woke up, she was on the floor, blood sticky on her sweater and face. She was sore and badly banged up, worse than she remember being before. As she tried to sit up, she cried into her hand, a sharp pain shooting through her torso. It was a struggle for her to get up, eyes searching for her father’s presence, but the house was quiet. He’d probably stalked off to his room long before she came too. She remembered the times he’d done that to her mother, she’d hear the door close in his room and then she’d sneak down the stairs to wake her mother up, take care of her. But her mother was no longer there and now it was Sophie on the other end of the dangerous blows. 

Still, she mustered up her strength and all the resolve she had left in her and made it to the bathroom to clean herself up as best as she could. She crawled up the stairs to get her trunk and anything else she could gather from her room, wand included, and trudged her way to the top of the stairs. She looked under her father’s door for a light, but it was dark. All of that beating had tired him out, it seemed, and Sophie wasn’t leaving without her locket. So as quietly as she could, she opened the door, and padded into his room. The locket was on the dresser, next to where his wallet and keys sat. She clutched the locket tightly in her hand before instinctively pulling the cash from wallet, and tucking it into the pocket of her jeans.

It was an hour later that the girl finally made it to the Leaky Cauldron, after attempting to find Hugo at his home, she’d spent the last of her money on the Knight Bus taking her there and then to the only entrance she knew to Wizarding London. Dragging her trunk in, she approached the inn keeper, pulling her cloak tight to hide her blood stained sweater, but there was not much she could do to hide the bruising on her face or her fat lip as she started to speak with the man. 

It was getting late and the clock neared ten as Sophie once again tried to explain to the man that she had money, she just couldn’t exchange it until Gringotts opened in the morning, but she needed a room. He refused her again and she was getting desperate as their argument continued. “Please, I’ll leave my wand with you until I can pay for the room in the morning. I spent the last of my wizarding money on the Knight Bus, but I have muggle cash, see?” She struggled, pulling it out of her pocket to show to him, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes and she tried to blink them away. “I’m good for it, I swear to Merlin, I just need a room for the night.” The man glared at her, “Then I suggest you ask someone else, I’m running an Inn, not a pawn shop, nor a charity. Now, if you haven’t got the money, then I suggest you be on your way.” He snapped at her, causing her shoulders to finally drop as she could no longer compose herself. The fifteen year old was scared. She was in London, nowhere near Hogwarts, nowhere near Hugo, and nowhere near the sad place that she had to call home. This had been her last resort and now, it seemed, she’d be sleeping on a park bench in muggle London for the night. Tears ran down her cheeks as she shakily grabbed the handle of her trunk and turned towards the exit of the pub, “Okay.”

Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends?

I adored this story utterly and completely. This is the story that I keep hoping to stumble across when I browse through fanfic rec lists.

This story begins in Year One, when Hermione is sorted into Slytherin instead of Griffindor, and it follows her all the way though her Hogwarts career, finishing with a brief glimpse of life after the Final Battle.