Untitled

[sneakywalker]

Blowback

October 1998. The war is over, the survivors are picking up the pieces, and Severus Snape is trying very hard to leave an Order party without talking to anyone.

He fails.

Two thirds of the Golden Trio find him in the corner with his Ogden's. Potter is missing a shoe. Weasley ends up on the floor. And somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Snape learns that Hermione Granger, the most relentlessly present person he'd ever had the misfortune of teaching, has been standing silent at the back of the room all evening; hiding behind her hair, slipping away before anyone could look at her too closely.

She didn't ask for his concern. She probably doesn't want it. He goes looking for her anyway.

What he finds in the overgrown garden of Grimmauld Place will change the carefully reconstructed shape of his post-war life.

Chapter 4 is now live. Updates will be posted every Sunday. Thank you for being here!

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[sneakywalker]

[sneakywalker]

I just finished my first ever fan fic on AO3! It's a little funny, a little smutty, and a lot fluffy. It's also full of unrepentant nose jokes; the author regrets nothing.

April Showers Bring Wet Owls

*** Complete as of 11th May 2026 ***

Hermione Granger has built a good life. A career she loves, a family she'd chosen, a kitchen that feels like home. The Ministry's marriage law threatens to upend all of it.

Matched anonymously via charmed parchment designed to encourage increasingly honest communication between strangers, Hermione finds herself corresponding with a man who is infuriating, brilliant, and uncomfortably perceptive. He sees things in her she's barely admitted to herself. She's not sure whether to be fascinated or alarmed. Possibly both.

The problem is Severus Snape, who has reappeared in her life after years of absence, and who is making it extraordinarily difficult to focus on a Ministry mandated future with someone she's never met.

The other problem is that she's falling for them both.

A slow burn marriage law fic told mostly in a single room, through charmed parchment, terrible pancakes, punk music, and two people who are considerably better at being honest with strangers than with themselves.

"The charm is becoming considerably less useful as a filter. I've stopped being surprised."