Unbeta'd. Didn't even read over it twice. Written in 20 minutes. Oops
"Well, there's no easy way to say this" Arthur Weasley shuffled his weight from foot to foot.
"Come off it dad, what could be worse than what we've already heard in this war?" Ron poured himself a shot of firewhiskey and downed it before refilling his glass and the one Harry pushed towards him. For the first time in his life, the youngest male Weasley seemed completely oblivious to the disapproving glares and tuts of the family matriarch.
During the awkward silence that ensued Arthur looked at Harry, Ron and Hermione in turn. They had grown in the last month on the run.
Hermione's eyes no longer had the glint of curiosity and visible thirst for knowledge she still read everything in sight and needed to know every detail, but she was...harder. Physically, as well. She had withstood hexes, jinxes, and unforgiveables – but getting out of bed in the morning was the hardest task for her. She bore a weight no one dared ask about. They preferred to tell themselves it was just the war, just Dumbledore's death, just the separation from her parents.
Ron had become fierce. And fearless. He charged into every situation without hesitation. He had, at some point in the blur of the past few months, fought an entire battle with a broken arm. It had been ten of them against the Gryffindor Trio and when Harry had finally signaled their retreat Ron hadn't even noticed the bone sticking out at a right angle from his arm.
Harry had been proud of how Ron had turned down a pain potion, citing constant vigilance, while Hermione worked on a skele-grow potion for him. Harry had been wary when Ron had downed a bottle of Tequila and started on a second before Hermione returned with his potion from the 'lab' section of their retreat tent.
Harry had also been proud of Hermione for her fortitude. No one had been so affected by the events of the end of their sixth year. Harry himself had turned his sadness into anger – into a motivation. He would fight for the beliefs Dumbledore had instilled in him. Hermione seemed to fight because she had no other choice. Nothing to go back to.
The in-between parts were the worst for all of them. The waiting for the next attack, the next horcrux, the next brush with death. Ron drank. He preferred to do it alone – it kept him from being a merry drunk. By himself he could become quiet, turn his thoughts inwards. Drinking by himself stopped his rage from becoming external, though it did nothing to stop the exhaustion and weary tears late at night.
Hermione barely slept. She would keep herself in constant motion – experimenting with new offensive spells while brewing pepper-up for her, and sober-up for Ron. It was the times that she stopped that put Harry and Ron on edge. She would sit still, staring at nothing, and forget food, drink, questions, answers, Harry and Ron.
Harry plotted. He plotted and schemed and planned. He would spend hours imagining what he would do to Voldemort and his damn snake. Malfoy and his whole damn family. Snape and...
No one ever said that name. It was taboo. None of them knew how it started, but with a silent pact the name had not been brought up in the nine months they had been on the run since Dumbledore's funeral. Nine months, two weeks, three days and roughly eight hours.
Which is why they were all taken by surprise when that name came out of Arthur Weasley's mouth in the kitchen of Grimmauld place.
"It's about Severus Snape."
Hermione, who had been running her finger along the grain of the kitchen table swore quietly and pulled a sliver of wood out of her finger.
Harry and Ron both winced. It was hard to tell, from Arthur's standpoint, whether it was from that name or from the shots of firewhiskey burning down their throats.
"There's been some new evidence uncovered..." He continued timidly, not knowing what to make of their reactions. Finally, Ron shrugged and poured out two more shots while Hermione examined the bloody splinter with morbid interest.
Molly Weasley scooted past Remus, between Fred and George, and reached for the bottle in Ron's hand. His training was better than hers, and his passion for the bottle stronger. As she tried in vain to pull it from his tight grip he growled,
"Molly." And she quickly drew back, trying to hide her fear of her own son.
Harry caught Arthur's eye and nodded, studiously ignoring Ginny's pleading gaze turned his way at full power.
"It turns out... Well, it turns out Albus was dying. There was an oath, well two, and Albus ordered Severus to kill him, to guarantee his foothold in Voldemort's favor".
Harry felt the rage burning through his veins, up to the back of his eyes. His confusion at where to aim it kept him from lashing out the people around him. The people who knew this was coming, and didn't warn him. It took him a moment to notice the shards of glass sticking out of his hand from what had been his glass.
Ron huffed out a little laugh and raised his shot glass, full once more. His words were slightly slurred, but Fred & George knew it was from emotion, not alcohol.
"To maintaining the illusion," with that he downed one more glass, "at any cost."
A soft and desperate laughter bubbled up from Hermione. As the occupants of the room turned to her the laughter became harsh, grief-filled sobs wracking her body. She stumbled blindly out of the open kitchen door and stood facing the wall opposite in the hallway.
Eyes darted between Harry, Ron and Hermione. Wondering who to comfort first – who would let them.
Hermione stood with one hand over her mouth, her right hand clasping her ribs, trying to hold herself physically together.
"Hermione-" Harry was cut off by his own yelp as Fred and George worked on removing the glass from his hand, with Ginny hovering behind.
"I believe this is my fault." Severus Snape's low voice materialized with him from the back of the kitchen.
Harry jolted suddenly. It could have been from the shock of seeing a man he so recently imagined torturing in painful ways, but it wasn't. It could have been from a rather large piece of glass being yanked from his hand, but it wasn't. It was Hermione's sobs becoming unimaginably harsher and louder at Snape's words. She was now leaning her right hand against the wall and gasping for air through her tears.
She shrugged off Molly's soothing pat on the shoulder and continued to cry.
Arthur watched Severus eyeing the sobbing girl. "We've told you already; you are forgiven for your part in the murder of Albus Dumbledore. Snape wavered, and Ron poured another shot, pushing it towards Snape. The tall, darkly clad man eyed the shot for a moment before picking it up.
"Although we still disagree on whether I should be forgiven, I feel Miss Granger's emotional unrest is my fault."
"She did take Albus' death harder than most." Arthur said, trying to make some sense of the mess of blood, tears, and whiskey littering the kitchen.
"And yet, I believe I am to blame," Snape downed the shot and moved smoothly across the kitchen to Hermione.
Everyone moved quietly to try and hear what the potion's master could possibly say to his former student.
"Miss Gr- Hermione. I'm... I apologize for-" He was unable to finish as Hermione whirled on him.
"You promised me!" she began pounding on his chest.
"Hermione!" Arthur reprimanded, but did not continue as he saw that Severus had not raised an arm to try and defend himself.
"You lying, lying, bastard" Hermione continued to batter the stoic man. She suddenly stopped and her shoulder's slumped. Severus reached out a hand to touch her shoulder and she shied away. Severus dropped his arm, dejected.
"All this time, I felt like a traitor."
A murmur went up amongst the onlooking crowd of Weasleys and order members.
"I asked myself over and over: how can you still love the man who killed Dumbledore?"
Fred and George had to steady a lightheaded Molly as Tonks put a hand on Remus' arm to stop him from charging forward in the heat of the moment.
"And I am sorry for that, Hermione. But try and think how it was for me. I tried to push you away a million times."
Arthur Weasley wasn't sure, but he thought he might have seen that old light in Hermione's eyes through the tears as she threw herself into her potion master's arms.
And although Severus Snape wanted to push her away, remind her that he was unlikely to survive the final battle, as always – he was unable to turn away from the trust, loyalty, and love in Hermione Granger's eyes.
For tonight, he would let himself drown in it.
Molly drowned her desolation at being in a situation beyond her control in the scalding hot water in which she washed the dirty dishes.
Ron drowned his loneliness in a bottle of whiskey, joined later by his father. They discussed the difference between muggle whiskey and firewhiskey, good and evil, and much later – pink and fuchsia.
Harry drowned his pain in revenge plots, which needed to be replotted.
Hermione, already drowned in tears, decided to dry off in the arms of Severus Snape.