Mr Raymond Finch-Fletchley was a banker with Coutts, and had his own entry in Who's Who. Hermione smiled at his photo, which betrayed that Justin inherited his curls from his father (even though Mr Finch-Fletchley evidently had done his best to subdue their unbankerly exuberance), and resolved to call him as soon as she had followed up her next idea.

She couldn't stop thinking about the frantic fighting at Hogwarts, before she had been torn away from the battle. When she was trying to fall asleep she kept seeing the battle in front of her, curses ricocheting off the walls and flying around her, the joy of seeing that Harry was alive and the almost complete silence from the crowd when Harry was facing Voldemort. Last night, she had suddenly remembered what Harry had been saying about Snape and why he had betrayed Voldemort all those years; that Snape had loved Lily Potter since they were children.

She knew that Lily Potter, née Evans, had been born in Frickley, near Doncaster, because Harry had once shown her his parents' marriage certificate that he had found among Sirius's effects in Grimmauld Place. Being Hermione Granger, she had looked up Frickley, with the vague idea that it could be interesting to stop by on the Horcrux hunt. Since Lily's parents were dead, and had been Muggle anyway, she had subsequently ruled it out. She couldn't imagine Voldemort hiding part of his soul in the North of England, the pompous twat.

But maybe the Snapes were still there?

The Doncaster phone book contained no Severus Snape, but her shaking hands revealed a T. Snape, 9 Spinner's End, Frickley, Doncaster, South Yorkshire. She remembered his mother had been Eileen Prince when she went to Hogwarts, so was this a sibling? His father?

Her ever-active brain actually shut down when trying to imagine how Professor Snape's father was likely to react to one of his students phoning up to inform him that since his son hadn't actually been a traitor after all, would he kindly tell her who won the battle of Hogwarts? She did remember seeing Snape alive, even after Nagini's attack – apparently it wasn't an idle boast that he could put a stopper in death – so maybe this would actually work!

Two places to call, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet! She easily found the number to Coutts, and celebrated with a latte, cutting into her rapidly decreasing funds.

Having decided to claim she was Justin's cousin Charlotte, daughter of his equally distinguished uncle Tristan (courtesy of Who's Who's very useful listings on the Finch-Fletchleys), until she got through to Mr Finch-Fletchley, she squared her shoulders and phoned up Coutts. She was profoundly grateful they didn't know she had broken into their wizarding equivalent.

It didn't go so well. Mr Finch-Fletchley's secretary would not give out his mobile number even though Charlotte was stranded at Charles de Gaulle airport with no money on hand, and she wouldn't say when Mr Finch-Fletchley was expected back in the office or why he was on leave. It looked as if Justin's parents might have joined him on the run. Or Voldemort may have got to them first.

Mr T. Snape's phone had been disconnected, British Telecom informed her in dispassionate tones. She was faintly relieved that she didn't have to convince a Snape to speak to her, but that didn't help her now.

She had looked at the map before leaving the library. Doncaster was 140 miles or so away, on the M1. Almost three hours to get there. London was nearer, but London was also dangerous. The last time she was in wizarding London she had broken into Gringotts, and the last time she set her foot in Muggle London she had almost been caught by Death Eaters on Tottenham Court Road.

Victorious Death Eaters were also far more likely to attack the Muggle population in London, so Frickley it was then.

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Frickley was rather bleak. She couldn't imagine Harry's mom growing up here. Lily had always looked so glamourous in the pictures she had seen of her. With a jolt she realised that Lily was only three years older than herself when she was killed by Voldemort. She would only be thirty-eight had she been alive now, much younger than her own parents. Lily had had so little time, so much life to squeeze into a few, precious years…
Suddenly her eyes filled with tears for her friends who hadn't even been given that, never got to get married and have a child or even live long enough to grow up. Angrily wiping the tears away she pulled into the side of the road, and tried to match the map she had ripped out of the phone book at the library to the streets around her. There was Broad Balk, traversing Back Lane.

Her heart was beating a wild tattoo as she left the car behind and walked down towards Spinner's End. The well-kept, dark blue Volvo looked out of place next to the empty shop fronts and desolately flapping circus posters. Having kept up her daily autopsy of the newspapers for anything that might be related to the war, she was still as clueless as before. For all she knew she might be walking into a Death Eater ambush.

Two things kept her walking down the eerily empty laneway of abandoned two up, two downs: the first was the lack of any sign of recent Death Eater activity. If victorious, surely they would have made themselves known now that they couldn't have anything left to fear? The second was the incongruity of her former professor's position as Voldemort's most trusted follower, and the squalor that surrounded her. She knew enough about pureblood pretensions to assume Professor Snape must have kept this part of his past as secret as humanly possible, to maintain his persona as the ultimate Slytherin.

Having rehearsed what she would say to Mr T. Snape when he opened the door for the fourteenth time (she really had to get hold of Professor Snape, she was a former student and his school had faced an unspecified calamity which required his help, then she would have to see how he reacted), she straightened her back and knocked on the door she deduced had to be number 9.

After knocking intermittently for five minutes she had to sit down on the front step to counter the sudden wave of hopelessness. She was so tired, so very tired, and she was afraid to go into London without any protection. Of course Professor Snape had sent his relatives away too. What would they want to stick around here for?

When the door opened she almost fell backwards into a cloud of black wool, but managed to scramble up on her feet and turn around, facing the familiar, gaunt shape of Professor Snape.

His dark eyes looked down on her wearily while she recovered her wits. Whereupon she promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around him, his body remaining taut and inflexible while she was shaking with wild sobs.

She pulled herself together, straightening up and separating herself from him, and wiped her runny nose with her sleeve, swallowing the last tears.

"I'm-" Her voice almost broke again, but with a heroic effort she started again and mastered herself. "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but I am just so glad to see you!"

She never thought she would see the day when Severus Snape, Potions Master, Death Eater, and spy for the Order of the Phoenix lost his guard completely – both eyebrows raised, slack jaw and all. After a long second he looked quickly up and down the street and pulled her into the dank, dark house.

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A/N:
Coutts is the bank of the Queen of England. It's very posh, and maybe J.K. Rowling banks with them too. I don't, since I don't own any of her characters and don't make any money from this.