Severus was standing in his sitting room, peeling off his suit jacket, when the front door of his house burst open and Hermione came striding over the threshold. Severus silently held his wand up and re-warded the doorway behind her, wondering whether or not he ought to approach her and try to comfort her in some way.
She stood in the vestibule and buckled over at her waist, letting out a devastated keening noise before standing back up and flashing her chestnut eyes angrily at Severus. She brushed past him into his library and began pacing furiously, demanding, "Where is your firewhisky?"
"That's not going to -" Severus stopped when he saw her snatch an unopened bottle of Blishen's from behind a stack of books. She wrenched at its stopper, and Severus strode up to her and yanked the bottle away. He Vanished it and scolded her, "You're not going to get drunk, Hermione."
"Why not?" she asked, her voice a desperate shriek. "You got to drink yourself into a stupor the night you killed Dumbledore, but I can't have a bit of whisky after erasing myself from my parents' minds forever?"
Severus shifted on his feet and said calmly, "I've seen you drunk. You were anything but happy that night. It won't help. Believe me."
"Sod off, you bastard!"
She marched from the room, stomping her feet as she clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Severus sighed and ignored the shouted insult, knowing she was overwhelmed with emotion and lashing out at him. He followed her slowly, and then quietly suggested, "If you'd like to calm down and lift your spirits a bit, just for today, then I can help you." He raised his wand and nonverbally Summoned a vial of Elixir to Induce Euphoria from his private stores. It shot across the house and flew into his hand, and he held the little bottle out to Hermione. "Here."
She snatched it from him and read the label, scowling up at him as she mumbled bitterly, "I don't want to prance about like a fool singing and tweaking my nose; I just want to forget. Just for today."
Severus cocked his head to the side and explained, "Those are the effects if one takes the elixir under ordinary mental circumstances. Given your situation, all it would do is dull the grief and sadness for a bit. Perhaps simply make you feel as though you had a good mood. It's better than getting sick and melancholy from firewhisky."
She stared at the bottle for a long while, turning it over in her fingers as she considered whether or not to take it. Then, at last, she pulled out the cork and tipped it into her mouth, shoving the empty phial back into Severus' palm. He Vanished that like he'd done with the firewhisky and said, "Come sit down. I'll fetch you some tea."
He went into the kitchen and grabbed an old mug with a hairline crack in it from a cabinet, washing it in the sink to rid it of dust. Then he filled it with water and used his wand to heat it before tossing in some instant tea granules and a few spoonfuls of sugar. Hardly the most elegant cup of tea in the world, he considered, but it would do.
By the time he made his way out to the sitting room, Hermione had pulled her knees up to her chest on the divan and was looking out the window serenely. Severus could already see that her depression had temporarily lifted, giving way to a few hours' blissful respite.
"Thank you," she murmured contentedly as she took the mug of tea from Severus. She sipped it and spluttered a little before gulping it down, and she let out a low, rumbling chuckle. She set the mug upon the low table before her and teased Severus, "Oh, that's dreadful!"
"I'm sorry," he laughed lowly, sitting beside her and reaching up to pet her caramel-colored curls lightly. "Let's talk about something… something that has nothing to do with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore or -" he stopped before he said 'your parents,' not wanting to hurtle her back into sadness.
Hermione smirked at him. "All right," she sighed happily. Then, after a brief moment, she asked him, "Why haven't you redecorated this place? It wouldn't be that difficult, not with magic…"
She rose and started walking aimlessly about the sitting room. Severus found himself smiling, genuinely smiling, as he watched her examine his shabby curtains and point her wand at them. She mumbled something, and the terrible old material changed from a faded flowery pattern into a smart stripe of coffee brown and cream in crisp raw silk. She grinned up at her handiwork. "There! That's much better!"
"Are you going to design the whole place, then?" Severus demanded, transfixed by the sight of her as she stood over his threadbare rug and pointed the tip of her wand at it. It changed into a plush, low-pile extravagance, brown and cream and… rose pink. "Oh… no." Severus frowned deeply. "That is ghastly and feminine. No pink. Change it back."
Hermione giggled at him, and he felt an odd stirring of love for her in his chest as he watched her face light up with happiness for the first time in weeks. She nodded with conciliatory grace and changed the rug into a solid dark brown. "Better?" she pressed. Severus just nodded mutely.
She spent the next twenty minutes bobbing about the room, changing old vases into sleek crystal sculptures and hideous Victorian-style lamps into Asian-inspired swank. Soon the room was sleek and stylish, and Severus flicked his eyes around, impressed, and said,
"Professors Flitwick and McGonagall would be very proud. Now, come sit down, would you? You're making me dizzy, trotting laps about the room like you're doing."
She smiled as he teased her, and when she came back to the divan, she opted not to sit beside him. Instead, she put her wand down on the table and cast a knee over each side of Severus' thighs. He felt his breath hitch in his lungs as she sat lightly atop his lap, snaking her arms around his shoulders and lowering her face to kiss his lips gently.
"Mmm," Severus moaned in protest, pulling away, "Not today, Hermione… I don't want to take advantage of you when you're artificially happy. Doesn't feel right."
And it didn't, really… for he knew that the little smiles she was quirking at him were simply plasters on top of tears, that any sense of peace she had right now was fragile and temporary and not at all real. So her kiss didn't trigger the normal swells of want in him… instead, he felt like a cur for kissing her back. He gently held onto her waist and moved her pouting form off of him until she sat beside him.
"But… but I'm desperately hot-blooded at the moment, Severus," she murmured beside him, and he watched as the little fingers on her left hand drifted around her torso, caressing her own breasts, and then dragged down before snaking under the waistband of her denims. Severus made a move for her wrist, whispering frantically,
"Stop it, Hermione."
"Why?" she insisted petulantly. She flashed him a meaningful glare. "We made love the first night here. For comfort, no? Why not now?"
"It can't always be for comfort." Severus shook his head firmly, releasing her wrist when she pushed her hand beneath her knickers and began to pulse her fingers there. Severus swallowed, feeling himself go hard in his trousers, and shut his eyes.
"No," he heard Hermione agree beside him. "It can't always be for comfort. But perhaps it can today."
Severus' eyes shot open when he realized that the buttons on his trousers were suddenly being unfastened by her lithe little fingers, that her nimble hands were pulling his firm member out and playing with him. He wanted to protest, knowing it was the chivalrous thing to do, but it felt terribly good to have her touch him. So all he did was tip his head back against the back of the sofa and snarl a little through his teeth.
Then there was wet warmth around him, and he gasped as he flicked his eyes down to see that she'd taken him in his mouth. His hands flew to her head and his fists balled in her tangled curls.
"Ungh… Hermione…" He should have told her to sit up, offered her another cup of terribly-brewed instant tea or a biscuit or a bit of conversation. But he didn't. He just groaned her name every time she dipped down and let his tip his the back of her throat, and he hissed desperately when she sucked firmly on his length. She moaned happily onto him, and her voice vibrated on his skin.
He could see that her own hand was still buried in her unzipped denims, pulsing and grinding inside her knickers. The sight of her touching herself while she used her mouth on him was too much. Severus felt a twisting pleasure knot itself in his stomach, felt his balls drawing themselves up to his body, felt his cock stiffen like mad inside her mouth. He ground his teeth and mumbled, "Hermione, stop."
She ignored him, continuing to bob up and down and swirl her hand around his tip. Severus was close… so close. He dug his fingertips into her scalp and said more insistently, "Stop… Hermione… stop!"
He wrenched her off of him and panted furiously as she stared up at him in alarm, letting her hand fall from his throbbing shaft. "What's wrong?" she asked, her saliva shining beautifully on her swollen lips. Severus gulped.
"I don't want to…" He felt his cheeks color with humiliation when Hermione crumpled her eyebrows, and he so he huffed rather fiercely, "I don't want to come in your mouth, Hermione. I am made to understand that it is quite unpalatable. Please sit up."
But then an odd sort of glint crossed her amber eyes, a wicked little sheen of delight, and she slowly sank back down and took him in her mouth once more. Severus grunted desperately and bucked his hips as the wet warmth of her throat gripped him. He couldn't help it when he exploded into her mouth, feeling the volleys of his seed burst forth as his ears rang and his skin tingled. He panted and groaned and felt a wonderful sudden dissolution of all the tension in his body as he came. He was whispering her name, over and over, and wrenched his eyes shut as he recovered.
Then she was sitting up beside him and chuckling in his ear, and he watched with a twinge of humiliation as she reached for her now-lukewarm cup of tea and swigged it down to wash out the taste of him. She put him back in his trousers and buttoned him up, and Severus raised an eyebrow at her.
"Well?" he asked appraisingly.
"I've had worse," she shrugged cheekily. Severus frowned deeply.
"You've had worse," he repeated, feeling confused. When would she have…
"Well, that time I tried to turn myself into Millicent Bulstrode with Polyjuice Potion, but wound up mostly-a-cat instead?" Hermione giggled merrily as she buttoned and zipped her own denims, "That tasted far worse."
"I see." Severus shook his head and crooked a little smile at her.
He pulled her gently against his shoulder and kissed the top of her hair as she pressed her palm to his sternum and sighed contentedly. If nothing else, he considered, she was distracted from the grief of having lost her parents today. If it took him spilling himself in her mouth in order to distract her… well, so be it.
"I love you, Severus," she murmured, and he just nodded back at her. They sat in an oddly peaceful silence for hours before the Euphoria wore off, and then Hermione's melancholy began to set back in. She would need more Dreamless Sleep tonight, Severus thought, though of course he could not make a habit of giving it to her. But there had been so much dreadfulness lately that he could hardly blame her for requiring it in order to find any semblance of peace.
Severus knocked firmly upon the enormous walnut front door of Malfoy Manor and was surprised when it was answered by Bellatrix Lestrange. The wispy she-devil smirked up at Severus over the threshold, glancing around behind him to see whether or not he was alone.
"Calling unannounced?" she asked skeptically. "What brings you about with no invitation, Snape?"
"I need to speak with the Dark Lord," Severus informed her, "alone."
"Oh, I see." Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow skeptically. "Well, the Dark Lord is very busy…"
"Why don't you let him be the judge of whether or not my business warrants attention, Bella?" Severus suggested coldly, and he pushed past her rather roughly into the front hall of the Manor. Behind him, Bellatrix huffed indignantly and slammed the huge doors shut with a resounding bang.
"Cissy!" she called childishly, stamping off from the hall and leaving Severus alone. He shifted on his feet in the cavernous, tiled room for a few agonizing moments until Narcissa Malfoy came gliding in.
"Severus," she acknowledged gracefully, holding out her hands. Narcissa was very grateful to Severus for having protected Draco, he knew, and so he was unsurprised (but relieved) by her hospitality. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Is he available?" Severus asked without pretense.
"He's upstairs in an office," Narcissa answered smoothly. "Follow me, dear."
She led Severus up a wide stone set of stairs and down a long corridor, lined with flickering sconces, until they finally arrived at an open doorway. Narcissa held out her hand to make Severus pause and knocked upon the doorjamb.
"Enter."
Voldemort's voice was oily and smooth, and Narcissa visibly squared herself and silently cleared her throat before stepping over the doorway into the room. "My Lord," she murmured reverently, "Severus Snape is here to see you, if you have a moment."
"Naturally," Voldemort acknowledged, and Severus heard the rustling of parchments being shoved away. "Send him in and leave us, Narcissa."
Narcissa Malfoy came back out into the corridor and beckoned for Severus to enter the room, which he did with a grateful nod to her. He shut the office door behind him and cast a silent Muffliato to keep his meeting private. He glanced around the office, a sizeable, mahogany-paneled space befitting the Dark Lord. Voldemort was seated at a chunky, ornate desk upon which Nagini was coiled lazily. His own grey hands were tented on the desk's surface and his cold eyes stared at Severus' questioningly.
"Good morning, Severus."
"Good morning, My Lord." Severus took a tentative step into the room.
Voldemort wandlessly shoved the chair opposite him out for Severus and gestured elegantly. "Sit."
Severus obeyed, trying to keep his face steely as he began, "My Lord, I am here to speak with you about Hermione Granger."
"Your little toy."
Severus hesitated. "Yes," he acknowledged finally.
"What about her?" Voldemort sounded rather skeptical.
"The night I killed Albus Dumbledore," Severus began by reminding Voldemort of his deeds of loyalty, "Miss Granger was... renounced… by several members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as by Harry Potter himself, when they learned that she had been engaged in a liaison with me. Once Potter learned that I killed Dumbledore, and that Miss Granger had been sleeping with me, Potter wanted nothing more to do with her."
"And how did Potter manage to put those pieces together?" Voldemort asked doubtingly.
"Miss Granger, in a fit of foolish adolescent trust, had revealed her activities with me to Ginevra Weasley, a friend of hers."
"Ginevra Weasley!" Voldemort laughed uproariously. "Ah. Yes. That one."
"Yes." Severus shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Miss Weasley then informed Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, and Harry Potter, among others, about the affair. They immediately turned on Miss Granger, and she left the school."
"Where did she go?" Voldemort frowned.
"She found me, eventually," Severus acknowledged hesitantly. "I had given her my address for the purposes of summertime encounters to maintain the passage of information from Potter to you. However, I regret that she is no longer an ally of Potter's."
"Well, that's unfortunate for you, then," Voldemort sneered. "Since she is a Mudblood, she'll be disposed of quickly."
"Yes, well." Severus started to pull out the thick folder of documents he'd brought and pushed them gently across the desk to Voldemort. "As regards that concern… I would like to share with you these papers that Miss Granger found at the home of her parents relatively recently. Her parents are selling their residence in suburban London, and Miss Granger, in assisting their packing, stumbled across antique graduation documents from Durmstrang and Beaxbatons. Upon further investigation, she uncovered a large and unbroken line of Dutch wizardry on her mother's side. Her mother, as it happens, is a Squib but was unaware of her heritage."
Voldemort looked exceedingly skeptical as he pored over the various documents. He pointed his wand at paper after paper and muttered spells to try to undo attempted forgeries.
"I tried the same things, My Lord," Severus insisted. "I admit I, too, was quite suspicious of Miss Granger. She is brainy and prideful enough that I thought she must be trying to impress me by forging documentation of a long-lost wizarding heritage. I spent hours attempting to reveal forgery in the documents and could find no evidence of falsification."
Voldemort scowled up at Severus. "So the girl is a half-blood?"
Severus cocked his head to the side and shrugged. "As am I, My Lord. It appears that the girl is not a Muggle-born, after all."
"Well, how convenient for you," Voldemort sneered, narrowing his eyes and shoving the papers back across the desk at Severus. He was silent for a very long moment before he said, "You shall be wanting to take her back to Hogwarts with you, then."
"If it is convenient, My Lord."
"Don't make any more of a scandal than necessary," Voldemort said, sounding bored and flicking his hand at Severus. "You're an intelligent man, Severus; do me a favor and be discreet, is all I ask, eh?"
"My hope, My Lord, is that Potter and Weasley will eventually attempt to repair their friendship with her and wind up giving her more information that I may pass along to you… to assist our cause. And, at least for the time being, Miss Granger is very thoroughly against Potter, from an emotional perspective."
Voldemort nodded. "Find a way to make her useful, then." He flicked his eyes out the window at the rain that had started to fall, and then back to Severus. He asked calmly, "Are you in love with the girl, Severus?"
Severus felt his mouth fall open a bit in surprise. He paused and swallowed heavily and went to shake his head, but Voldemort let out a low chuckle and murmured,
"Don't bother lying to me. Your fearful hesitation is all the answer I need. Of course you are in love with her; you've always been a dreadfully sentimental creature despite your valiant attempts to be hard-hearted. Love… such a ridiculous, laughable notion, and yet I envy its power to bring men to their knees."
Severus said nothing, feeling his heart thump with alarm in his chest as Voldemort dragged his bony fingertips down the smooth curls of Nagini's sleeping form. "Go home to her, Severus," he mumbled. "I shall tell Dolores Umbridge to leave the girl be."
"Thank you, My Lord."
Severus made his way up the stone staircase in Malfoy Manor, knowing he was unfashionably early for the meeting that had been called. In the wake of the great break-out from Azkaban, Voldemort's ranks had swollen once more and the Death Eaters were overconfident.
Severus had just come to Wiltshire straight from Knockturn Alley, where he'd had a final meeting with Mundungus Fletcher in a dark, small tavern. The men had Disillusioned themselves and nursed tankards of ale and talked about how Harry Potter was going to be moved from Petunia Dursley's home the following Saturday. Severus had placed a silent but thorough Confundus charm upon Dung Fletcher, as he'd been directed to do months earlier by Dumbledore.
"So, I'll get all that in place straight away, then," Mundungus had confirmed, repeating the details back to Severus - of how members of the Order of the Phoenix would disguise themselves as Harry Potter to throw off Voldemort should they be intercepted while moving the boy. Severus had Confounded Fletcher once more before taking his leave, and as he withdrew from the tavern, he could see that Mundungus believed himself to have simply come for a lonely pint…
'What a properly fine idea I've come up with,' Severus could hear the man thinking through Legilimency. 'No one will doubt my loyalty with an idea like this! Ho! Polyjuice and decoys… brilliant! You're a right strategist, you are, Dung...'
Severus had smirked, Disapparated to Wiltshire with a pop, and strode confidently into Malfoy Manor, which had been opened for the large meeting.
"Severus."
He startled and jolted, taking a brief moment to compose himself before turning with a stony face to see Lord Voldemort stalking slowly toward him in the dim corridor. The man's loyal snake, Nagini, followed him closely as always and let out a low hiss.
"Good evening, My Lord," Severus greeted with a nod. "I am early, I know…"
"You are," Voldemort acknowledged, "but it is better than being late. Come. Sit with me."
Severus felt a pang of unease as he followed Voldemort into a small sitting room, for behind him, he heard the unmistakable shriek of someone receiving the Cruciatus curse in a distant space. Severus sighed quietly and threw up his mental guards carefully.
Voldemort sank into a burgundy leather wingback chair and flicked his hand to the fireplace, which burst into warm flames. Nagini coiled at the Dark Lord's bony, slippered feet, and he arranged his gray robes regally.
"How is your own familiar?" Voldemort asked with a little quirk of a sarcastic smile. Severus had no owl, nor cat, and Voldemort knew that full well. He meant Hermione, of course. Severus flicked up the corners of his lips as he sat in a green velvet chair opposite the dark master.
"She is pleasant enough, My Lord," Severus said. "I thank you again for allowing me to keep her."
"Hm." Voldemort was silent for a long moment and stared into the fire. "And is she friends again with Harry Potter?"
"No, My Lord." Severus shook his head. "The boy has no idea where she is, and thus has no way of contacting her. I check her head regularly for any sign of it, just the same."
"Good man." Voldemort flicked up his silver eyes. "How do you intend to manage the inevitable harassment she will face when you take her back to school? Ginevra Weasley, for example?"
"Yes… well, perhaps 'example' is the right word," Severus said uncomfortably. "Perhaps an 'example' would be made of Miss Weasley…"
Voldemort laughed then, a terrible cackle of wicked mirth, and he threw back his bald head to reveal his sinewy throat. "Oh, Severus," he sighed. "I should think the place will be properly terrifying under your tenure. Those precious children, so accustomed to Dumbledore's grandfatherly distribution of Sugar Quills and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, shall have quite the shock." He touched the pads of his fingers together and smiled jovially at the thought of the students being tortured and tormented and chuckled under his breath, "No matter. You've always had quite the mind for discipline and order. I've every confidence you shall run the place as an effective institution of educational training… so long as you do not allow silly little notions like love to get in the way, you understand?"
"Naturally, My Lord. Nothing at all can supercede my sense of duty." Severus nodded firmly, then rather sneered, "Least of all a foolish little girl."
Voldemort laughed again. "I discovered that for myself, once. Do you know, a long, long time ago, Severus… I thought perhaps I was in love with Bellatrix? It haunted me, the horrific notion of that. I knew she loved me fiercely, and I thought rather fondly of her. She looked good enough to devour, you know, in her youth. I'm certain you remember what she looked like when you first joined our ranks."
Severus thought back to the days when he'd been fresh out of Hogwarts and Bellatrix had been only a few years older. They had not gotten along well, even then; they had always butted heads and she had always looked down on him. But her dark, mysterious beauty had always been undeniable. Before her long stretch in Azkaban had sapped her of her sanity and looks, Bellatrix had been possessed of silky black curls, porcelain skin, wild onyx eyes, and full ruby lips. She'd been tall and willowy with curves in the right places. She'd moved with a preternatural grace and spoken with a lusty, throaty voice that made men shiver with want. Of course Severus had noticed her; everyone had noticed her in those days. Severus nodded at Voldemort, who continued,
"She was desperately in love with me, and poor Rodolphus knew it better than anyone. Bella was so clingy and obnoxious with her affections, and so beautiful to look at, that I thought I must feel something for her in return. Something beyond lust, you know. I stayed awake at night wondering that - horrified by the prospect."
"And did you, My Lord?" Severus cocked an eyebrow, knowing he was being horribly impertinent by asking. But Voldemort was sharing more than Severus would have ever expected, and so Severus knew full well what the answer to his question would be. He was not at all surprised when Voldemort chuckled cruelly and said,
"No. Of course not. I had her a few times, and she was delicious. I'll grant her that. But did I love her? Could I ever love Bella? Ha! No. Of course not. But do me a favor, Severus - do not tell her that, eh? Her false hope is rather endearing, and it keeps her latched to me like a parasite."
Severus frowned but nodded. He knew that Voldemort very rarely engaged in personal conversations with anyone. Perhaps only with him. It was because the Dark Lord knew that Severus Snape, out of all the Death Eaters in his possession, was the least likely to go about discussing Voldemort's personal matters. Even if Voldemort knew that Severus was sharing crucial strategic information with the Order of the Phoenix, he knew that Severus wouldn't share this. It wasn't in Severus' nature.
And it wasn't. It truly wasn't something Severus was wont to do to sit about with Remus Lupin and discuss how Voldemort didn't - couldn't - love Bellatrix. That was not a conversation Severus would ever have with anyone. Not even Hermione. And Voldemort knew that… which is why they were talking about it now, here, in front of this fireplace in Malfoy Manor.
There was a gentle knocking upon the doorjamb, and Severus glanced up to see Narcissa Malfoy staring fearfully into the room.
"My Lord," she said quietly, "they are arriving."
"Thank you, my dear," Voldemort said smoothly. "Come, Severus."
Severus rose and followed Voldemort down the corridor into the dining room, joining him at the long table that slowly began filling with Death Eaters. When Severus saw Antonin Dolohov sit down, he realized the gravity of the breakout from Azkaban. He fought to control his expression toward Dolohov - the man who had attacked Hermione in the Department of Mysteries.
The meeting was odd and unsettling. Severus had to discredit Yaxley's incorrect assertions about when Harry Potter would be moved, so that he could ensure his own trustworthiness in the eyes of the Death Eater inner circle. So now it was that Voldemort knew full well about Harry Potter being moved the following Saturday, and Severus would be sucked into plans to intercept and kill the boy. Somehow, Severus knew, he would have to participate in the attempts on Potter's life while simultaneously attempting to save the boy.
All in a day's work, he found himself silently scowling.
It had been established that Potter's movement would coincide rather neatly with the overthrow of the Ministry of Magic, something that Severus feared greatly for its implications on the Muggle-born population. He swallowed as he sent long-distance thanks to Hermione for so convincingly forging her own documentation.
Then Voldemort had taken Lucius Malfoy's wand for the deed of killing Harry Potter, knowing that his own wand and Potter's were incompatible. Voldemort had taunted Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Draco because of how Nymphadora Tonks (Bellatrix's niece) had married Remus Lupin recently. Around the table, vicious laughter had greeted the Dark Lord's pronouncement, though Bellatrix had frantically insisted she and Narcissa were estranged from Nymphadora's branch of the illustrious Black family tree. Voldemort had softened his mockery and promised Bellatrix the chance to kill Nymphadora herself. Bellatrix had nodded and grinned with gratitude, but Severus remembered the words Voldemort had spoken to him before the meeting.
'Could I ever love Bella? Ha! No. Of course not.'
As Severus watched Bellatrix's cloying gaze linger on the Dark Lord throughout the meeting, he wondered absently whether or not Voldemort's lack of ability to love had actually been an asset for him when it came to Bellatrix. For years - decades - she had fawned ceaselessly over him, hoping in vain that one day he might look at her with some modicum of the admiration with which she stared at him. But he never had, and he never would. His cold silver eyes regarded her with boredom, condescension, contempt, or mild appreciation, depending on his mood and the situation. But never love. And, in that way, Voldemort had ensured that Bellatrix would never become a weakness for him.
Had Hermione become a weakness for Severus, he wondered? He knew that he loved her, very much indeed. He would give anything to protect her now - his own safety, certainly, but perhaps he would even sacrifice the greater good just to protect her. In fact, Severus knew that was almost certainly true. He was disinclined, for instance, to actively help the Order of the Phoenix at the moment, since they were all convinced that Hermione was wicked for having slept with him. How quickly they had turned against her; how fickle and flighty and childish! Any semblance of loyalty that Severus had to the cause had vanished when they'd turned against Hermione. Now, all he cared about was ensuring that she was safe, healthy, happy… with him.
She was a weakness for him, he knew. Voldemort knew it now, too, and that might be the death of Severus, in the end. But there was nothing he could do for it. Nothing at all. He could not sit before Hermione and flash her a cold, empty, unfeeling glare. He could not laugh about the impossibility of loving her. He could not manipulate her feelings for him into a strategic advantage. Hermione was not Bellatrix, and Severus was not Voldemort. He did love her, and if she was a weakness, then so be it.
He would rather that, he decided, as he watched Voldemort cast a Killing Curse at the hovering Charity Burbage and feed the Hogwarts teacher to his snake. Severus shuddered quietly as he tried to ignore the terrible squelching sound of Nagini eating the former Muggle Studies professor.
Yes, he would rather love Hermione, would rather she be a weakness for him, than be this man. Voldemort could not feel anything but hate and a chilly sort of glee when he'd done evil. He could not love; he was completely incapable of it to anyone, not just Bellatrix. Perhaps the Dark Lord did not allow love to weaken him, but he did not allow it to strengthen him, either. And that, Severus knew, was the biggest weakness of all.
Hermione paced anxiously around the sitting room at Spinner's End, her shoes creaking upon the wooden floor every time she passed the loose board. She sighed and put her hands firmly on her hips, staring at the clock and realizing only three minutes had passed since she had last done so.
Severus was off with the Death Eaters - again. All he could tell her was that tonight Harry was being moved from the Dursleys, and that Voldemort was going to try to kill him. There would be a set of multiple Harrys, Hermione knew, if they went along with the plan Severus had implanted in the mind of Mundungus Fletcher. Severus was going to have to pretend to participate in an ambush, but would, in reality, try to interfere on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix.
It was very brave of him, Hermione thought, and very altruistic, to do that. They all hated him; they all thought he was an evil villain. And, yet, he put himself at risk day after day for them, and they despised him anyway.
Hermione sat down on the divan with a huff and stared at the empty teacup before her. Severus had been gone for nearly three hours, and she'd had four cups of tea since he'd left. Besides the good solid flush of her bladder and solid rehydration, the tea had left her a tad jittery. It wasn't helping the existing anxiety caused by the nerve-wracking nature of tonight's scenario.
Hermione stared at the old porcelain cup and pointed her wand at it, trying to distract herself as she whispered, "Draconifors.'
The teacup morphed and wiggled and shifted until it was no longer made of porcelain and had become a small, writhing dragon on the coffee table. Hermione watched as the tiny Antipodean Opaleye slithered silently around the slick surface. The docile, miniature dragon slipped a bit on the shiny wood and stumbled, puffing out a bit of smoke in protest and grunting rather adorably. Hermione couldn't help but giggle a little as the Antipodean Opaleye flashed its wide, multicolored gaze up at her.
"Oh, I rather wish I could keep you," she murmured down to the dragon. But it had been Transfigured from a teacup, after all, and even if she left it be, it would disappear in a few hours. She changed it back into the teacup before she got too attached, and stood with a gasp when she heard the front door open and shut quickly. She whirled and cried, "Severus!"
He threw off his traveling cloak and strode briskly into the sitting room, his onyx eyes flashing with unmasked panic. He rushed across the space and dropped his wand rather unceremoniously upon the divan, taking Hermione's cheeks in his hands and kissing her firmly on the mouth.
"What happened?" she demanded, when he pulled away at last. She pressed her palm to his jaw and could feel his heart racing there. "Is Harry dead?"
Severus shook his head no. "He is alive." He shook his head again quickly, shutting his eyes as if he still had difficulty believing what had happened. "Mundungus Fletcher Disapparated as soon as he sensed his life was in danger - the treacherous child. Alastor Moody was killed. I hit someone - one of the Weasley twins, I think, judging from his reaction - with a stray Sectumsempra. But I was aiming for a Death Eater. Took the boy's ear off, I'm afraid. There was -"
"Wait!" Hermione stepped back and held her hand up, widening her eyes in shock. "Professor Moody was killed?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't call him 'Professor,' Hermione. Your fourth year, you were instructed by Barty Crouch, Jr., not by Alastor Moody. Yes. He was killed. I saw him fall."
Hermione felt her chest crumple. Her mouth opened and then shut again. And someone's ear had come off - because of an errant spell by Severus. Well, if anyone else saw that, it was hardly going to help Severus' standing in their minds. Hm.
"But Harry is alive?" she asked again. Severus nodded.
"The Dark Lord is infuriated," he said. "He broke away when his wand was damaged - well, not his wand. Lucius Malfoy's wand. It was damaged by some spell, or burst of magic, sent by Potter, or at least by his wand. I can not be certain. We were flying, and it was all quite confusing. The Dark Lord sent us all home, except for Rodolphus Lestrange, who is badly injured. He's brooding; angry. His only comfort is that Yaxley's just days away from taking over the Ministry of Magic."
Hermione felt her mouth go dry. "It's all about to change," she said numbly, "even if Harry survived… Ron, all of them. It doesn't matter, does it?"
"I don't know anymore," Severus said honestly. "The Ministry will fall soon, and when it does there will be changes and repercussions none of us can foresee." He paused for a long moment. "You are coming back to Hogwarts with me."
"Yes." Hermione nodded firmly. "I am. We will be together, Severus."
"You have absolutely no supplies for your seventh year," he reminded her. "If you're to earn your N.E.W.T.s, you shall be needing a trip to Diagon Alley. Unless you've got all the standard seventh-year textbooks hiding in that expanded purse of yours…"
"No," Hermione admitted, shaking her head. She'd been hiding in Spinner's End for weeks now, except for her brief interlude to her parents' house. A trip to Diagon Alley was at once a thrilling prospect and a terrifying one, in light of current events. She looked up at Severus and scowled a bit. "I don't know if it's wise for me to go alone," she said. "What if Bellatrix has eyes and ears there? But I can't go with you; it wouldn't be…"
She let her voice trail off. She didn't need to say what it would look like for her to wander down Diagon Alley alone with Severus. It was obvious what it would look like, and it rather broke her heart to think of it. Would there ever be a time in her life when no one would think twice of the sight of her strolling alongside her the older wizard she loved? Why did they all have to care so bloody much? She frowned up at him again as he laughed darkly under his breath, and then he said,
"No; we can't exactly sit in The Leaky Cauldron sipping on butterbeer together." He rolled his dark eyes and held out his wand, muttering a quiet spell. A little bottle came flying from his private potions stores, and he held it out mutely to Hermione. She took it and studied the small amethyst-colored bottle, struggling to read the script on the label.
Minnuere Annis - CAUTION - One drop per ten years.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and pinched her lips as she mumbled skeptically up at Severus, "Minnuere Annis potion? Why have I not heard of it?"
"Well, you saw something similar in action, if only by accident," Severus shrugged. "When Crabbe attempted the Aging Potion and failed, he shot himself back in time by mistake. I invented the Minnuere Annis Potion as a controlled method of doing what he did by chance. I've only used it a few times, in the course of testing the recipe. Once the drinker ages themselves backward, the effects last approximately twenty-four hours, so it is quite strong. If you drink too much…" he shrugged and winced. "I wouldn't want to find out."
"So, you're going to have me make myself a five-year-old, like Crabbe did?" Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise at Severus and stared down at the purple bottle for a moment, then back up at him. She shook her head, confused. "What will that help?"
Severus sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "No, silly girl," he said. "You're not going to age back. I am. I shall make myself the age of a Hogwarts student - your 'friend,' and we shall get your shopping done quickly. It's actually a less obvious disguise than Polyjuice, since it's not assuming someone else's distinct, recognizable identity."
"But what if someone recognizes what you looked like when you were young?" Hermione asked anxiously, even though her own head was swimming with wonder at the thought of seeing a teenaged Severus. He quirked a little smile at her.
"I carry myself rather differently now," he informed her, "and I shall dress in a way that renders me unrecognizable from my eighteen-year-old self. I shall look positively Gryffindor in nature. Now, off to bed with you. It's past midnight and we need to take care of all this Diagon Alley business in the morning, if you please. I don't want to wait; not with all the turbulence in the world at the moment."
Hermione lay beside him in bed that night with a stormy mind, unable to sleep. Harry was alive, and probably Ron, and probably most everyone else. But someone was missing an ear, and Mad-Eye Moody was dead. Tomorrow she and Severus would attempt to secure her school supplies before the Ministry was overthrown by a silent army of psychopaths bent on eugenics and genocide.
And, for some childish reason, all she could truly think of was, 'I wonder what he looked like at eighteen.'
She got her answer the following morning. She had finally fallen asleep, though not until perhaps four o'clock, and so she was deeply unconscious when he violently shook her shoulder around eight o'clock.
"Hermione."
"Umph." She rolled over, away from the shaking and the firm sound of her name, desperate to sleep some more. "No, Severus… sleep…"
"Hermione. Let's go, please."
There was something different in his voice. It was still relatively deep, still a harsh clip, still carefully pronounced. But there was less grit to it, less growl. It was more smooth, less touched by age and wear and exhaustion. When she realized that, Hermione's eyes flew open and she slowly, carefully turned in the bed until she was facing him.
She gasped, pulling her fingers to her lips in shock as she took in the sight of him. "Severus…" she whispered, her voice cracking in disbelief. His mouth - his foreign, yet familiar mouth - quirked up in a self-conscious, crooked smile, and his cheeks colored.
He was still tall, though perhaps two inches shorter than he was in his mid-thirties. His slick black hair had been pulled back with a band into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, though stray strands fell around his face, framing his angular countenance in black wisps. He was thin, much thinner than he was when she'd met him, and his body was almost awkward in its lithe, jutting slenderness. In his face, this meant sharp cheekbones and a sculpted chin that made his thin lips appear severe and dark on his pale skin, and made his prominent nose stand out ever the more. His pallid complexion was smooth and free from blemishes, but nearly colorless. His onyx eyes, piercing and deep, were exactly the same as she knew them now.
He was handsome, in an odd way, but endearingly ungainly, too. He was scarcely a model of Grecian beauty; he was no Viktor Krum or Cedric Diggory or any other conventionally attractive male specimen. But Hermione felt an odd twinge of love for him, seeing him how he'd once been.
She sat up straighter in the bed and took in the clothes he'd Transfigured out of his own normal robes, and she could not help but quietly giggle. He was wearing dark denims, slim cut, with his normal dragon-hide boots, and a navy blue jumper rolled up to his elbows. He looked… sexy.
"Get dressed," he commanded her, after she'd had her fill of staring at him, and Hermione jolted. She looked him in the eyes and was utterly confused by the simultaneous familiarity and strangeness of him. She just nodded and quickly rose from the bed, dashing to the bathroom to relieve herself, wash her teeth, and pull a brush through her hair. She got dressed in a loose red tunic and denims of her own, and pushed on a pair of brown loafers before yanking her hair into a quick loose braid down the middle of her back. She grabbed her purple expanded bag, glancing inside to ensure her money was in it, and nodded at Oddly-Young-Severus.
As they made their way down the staircase, she heard his newly-smooth voice say, "Don't call me by my name. Call me 'Silas Whitebeam.'"
"Silas Whitebeam," Hermione repeated with a firm nod. "And are you a Gryffindor, Silas?"
"Not a student at Hogwarts." He shook his head at her in frustration, as if it were obvious why that were an illogical thing for her to ask. Seeing her frown, he continued, "There will likely be other Hogwarts students in Diagon Alley this time of year. If anyone asks, I study at Durmstrang. You met me through Viktor Krum."
"Oh. That makes sense, I suppose," Hermione nodded vaguely. They stepped out his front door, and she watched as Severus spent a few moments murmuring wards to protect the house. They walked down the street for a few moments until they reached the Apparition point.
"Side-Along, then," Severus said firmly, and it was odd to hear his teenaged self be so bossy, for Hermione had never seen any teenaged boy so self-confident. She just nodded mutely up at him and snaked her arm through his. Then they vanished with a small crack, and she was squeezing and contorting for a moment before they landed neatly in a small side pulloff beside Broomstix in Diagon Alley.
Hermione brushed herself off and shook away the nausea, glancing up once more at the odd, boyish face of Severus' younger self. "Right, then," she said resolutely. "Let's go… erm… Silas."
The first bit of the shopping adventure proceeded without a hitch. Hermione got a new set of standard Gryffindor robes from Madame Malkin's without incident; indeed, no one seemed to notice Severus at all, let alone greet him or ask who he was. They moved on to Flourish and Blott's, and Hermione briefly said hello to Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan, but otherwise went about her own business of getting the textbooks she was going to need for her N.E.W.T.-level classes. They got the quills, inks, and basic parchments Hermione was going to need.
Severus started to gravitate toward Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, but Hermione hissed at him that Professor Slughorn would have all the Potions supplies she would need for her seventh-year lessons, and she managed to keep him out of the place. But then he reminded her that she needed an advanced cauldron, and she rolled her eyes as she followed his too-enthusiastic teenage form into Potage's Cauldron Shop.
Teenaged Severus' lithe, skinny form moved gracefully through the shop, carefully eyeing the cauldrons on display.
"Hello, there, my boy!" Madame Potage exclaimed, seeing the great interest with which Severus was examining her wares. "How might I help you today?"
Teenaged Severus flicked his eyes up boredly to her and said, "We require a good copper cauldron. Brass handles and feet. Heavy. Hammered exterior; half-inch thickness."
Madame Potage raised her bushy blonde eyebrows in pleased surprise. "You know quite a bit about cauldrons, don't you, my boy?" she grinned. "I've just the one, over here. One moment!"
She dashed off to fetch it, and Hermione turned angrily to Severus.
"That sounds very expensive, Silas," she huffed.
"Copper cauldrons, particularly good-quality copper cauldrons, brew potions far more quickly and effectively than low-grade pewter version," he shrugged. She knew he must be right; after decades of experience brewing thousands of potions, of course he would know precisely which cauldrons were best. But she scowled,
"I haven't the funds for something like that, Severus."
"Allow me to purchase it for you, please."
She frowned even more deeply. Severus was not a wealthy man. Hermione knew that well enough. And as Madame Potage came back out, holding the shining copper cauldron aloft triumphantly, Hermione had a sinking feeling about the price.
She was right - forty-eight Galleons for the thing - and she fought Severus once more briefly about purchasing it before he quickly plunked a sack of Galleons down on the countertop to shut her up. Madame Potage counted the coins and handed him two back, and he slickly put them in his pocket and carried the heavy copper cauldron under one arm as they walked from the store.
"Thank you, Silas," Hermione hissed through her teeth as they walked back out into the Alley.
"Your gratitude sounds rather disingenuous," she heard young Severus sneer, and she could see him smirk even though his back was to her.
"I feel guilty, is all," she admitted. Then she paused, for she saw Luna Lovegood walking toward her. She hadn't seen Luna since she'd Disapparated from the Infirmary at Hogwarts the night of Dumbledore's death, and it was terrifying to lay eyes upon someone who knew the truth about her.
"Oh… hello, Luna," she mumbled softly. Severus wisely took a few steps away from them.
"Hello, Hermione!" Luna thrust her arms around Hermione, shocking her with an embrace, and then the blonde-haired girl turned and said to Severus, "Oh! Hello, Professor. You look very young today, sir."
Severus' mouth dropped open for a solid beat of shocked silence, and Hermione gasped a little. She grabbed Luna's wrist and asked,
"Luna, how did you -"
"Oh, it's the eyes," Luna nodded. "No matter what people try to change… one can never escape the eyes. How are you, Hermione?"
Now it was Hermione's turn to be stunned into silence. She shook her head firmly as if ridding herself of a stray fly, and then she swallowed heavily. "I'm… we're… we are well, thank you. How are you, Luna?"
"Well, obviously I was very sad when Professor Dumbledore died," Luna said sadly, flicking her pale eyes toward Severus rather deliberately, "but I'm afraid I don't know enough about it to be anything more than… just sad. But my father and I have spent a wonderful summer on the hunt for Milsertgerams. They're these little mice-like creatures, you know, but they can fly, too, and they eat the soul of the house as they burrow through it, and then fly away and deposit it into another house…" She trailed off then, looking rather dreamy. She glanced back at Hermione. "Will the two of you be going back to Hogwarts this year?"
"Erm, yes, we will." Hermione nodded. "Luna, it's very, very important that you not tell anyone about…" Hermione flicked her eyes to Severus, then back to Luna, who smiled mirthfully and nodded emphatically.
"Of course, Hermione. But, you know, I'm afraid Ginny Weasley's already told just about everyone who would listen. She sent owls to her friends about it and everything. I hope this school year isn't too rough for you because of it. But I will always be your friend. And, Professor…"
She turned to Severus, who glanced anxiously around to ensure no one was listening. It was very strange for Hermione to see Luna address the teenaged Severus as 'Professor,' but Luna seemed unfazed.
"I am not sure if I'll ever know all the details, sir, or the truth at all. But I know you're not a murderer, sir."
Wispy-faced Severus pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Luna, and he clipped rather sarcastically, "Thank you, Miss Lovegood. Your confidence means everything to me."
Hermione felt a deep sense of dread in her stomach as they bid Luna farewell, and then Disapparated back to Spinner's End. She felt confused by it all, by the way that no one else in all of Diagon Alley had seen through Severus' disguise of youth except for Luna.
She was confused when they started to undress for bed later that night and she watched with fascination as Severus stripped off most of his clothes and, still under the effects of the potion, revealed his young body to her. It was confusing because, although he was visibly the same age as her, Hermione felt dirty and wrong for looking at him that way.
She turned away from him as she got her own pajamas on.
"It's still me, you know," she heard Severus murmur. "This is me at the same age as you."
"I know," Hermione nodded. Then, feeling guilty, she admitted, "I don't like it."
"I was a stringy little thing, I know -" Severus began self-consciously behind her. Realizing he'd misunderstood her, Hermione whirled around. She shook her head emphatically.
"That's not it," she insisted. "You're very handsome like this; you're always handsome, Severus. It's just… you're a boy. I fell in love with you as a man. It confuses me. I'm sorry."
He quirked a little smile at her and nodded, pulling a t-shirt on. It was loose and hung on his bony frame, though Hermione had seen it on his older self before and it was usually more snug.
"You're very right," he said at last. "When I looked like this, I was just a boy. But you're not just a girl, Hermione. Me at this age, and you at your age… we would not have been peers. Me at thirty-seven, and you now. That's more equal, strangely enough. I feel odd this way, too, standing beside you. I feel… not enough."
Hermione smiled as warmly as she could manage and walked over to him. She stood before him and thought about snaking her arms up around his neck, thought about kissing him. She licked her lips as she prepared to do it, wondering if he would taste differently as a boy than he did as a man.
"I imagine I taste the same," Severus assured her with a smirk, and Hermione realized with a jolt that he'd used Legilimency on her. She felt her cheeks color and actually raised her hand as if she were going to slap him, but he caught her wrist and brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should not pry. Your mind is yours."
All of a sudden, Hermione's vague sense of curiosity about him turned into a fiery want, and his young self abruptly appeared very appealing to her. She felt a ripple of desire shoot through her, a spike of moisture between her legs.
Before she knew what was happening, her flannel pajama pants and her knickers were gone, and her t-shirt, too. His clothes soon followed, and they were madly kissing one another as they flopped naked onto the bed. He pinned her down as heavily as he could manage with his skinny body and she reached behind his neck to free his hair from its little ponytail.
"You taste the same," she whispered fiercely, when he broke away to drag his lips down her neck, over her collarbone, to suckle a bit at her small breast. His slender fingers, which felt so familiar but not as calloused as usual, worked their way between her legs and pulsed and twisted until she clenched desperately around him.
He cast a Sterility Charm on her and drove his cock into her, and Hermione smirked a little as she realized she did not feel as full as usual. Perhaps, she realized, some men were not completely done growing there at eighteen.
"Ungh… feels too good… I'm sorry," Severus moaned atop her, and he crushed his mouth onto hers as he bucked his hips a few tips and spilled himself inside of her. Hermione smiled happily up at him, at his beautifully familiar onyx eyes as he shivered and recovered.
The next morning, the grey light of dawn and the soft pattering of rain awakened her.
She groaned and turned in the creaky bed, pulling the tattered quilt around her more tightly as she looked upon Severus' still-sleeping form. The potion had worn off and he was back to his normal self. After she'd been staring at him for a long while, his smoky eyes cracked open and he murmured drowsily,
"Had your fill of the old man in your bed, Miss Granger? Enjoying the view of the grey hairs and the fine lines and the dark circles?"
She stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. "I love you, Severus Snape," she said firmly, "with all your imperfections and with everything that makes you perfect. I love you. I fell in love with you just as you are, and you're mine just like this, so you'd better -"
She was cut off rather firmly when he rolled her onto her back and latched his lips passionately onto her neck. Hermione closed her eyes, and shut her mouth, and decided to let their actions do the rest of the talking.
"Hermione."
He startled her when he came striding through the front door, and upon his face was the same look of anxiety he always wore when he came back from meetings with Death Eaters. There was never good news after such meetings - only terrible ideas that were getting steadily more frightening with each passing day. Hermione frowned.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, standing slowly in the sitting room. Severus tossed off his traveling cloak and threw it haphazardly onto the rack by the door.
"You need to go to the Burrow. Immediately," he said. "I would never ask you to compromise your safety, and I shall come with you and Disillusion myself to protect you, but… they must be warned, or Potter is going to be captured and killed, you understand?"
Hermione felt a pit of dread in her stomach. Today was the day of Bill Weasley's wedding to Fleur Delacour. Before the end of the school year, she'd been invited, but had naturally assumed that invitation had been revoked in the wake of Dumbledore's death and the discovery of her affair with Severus. She shook her head in confusion.
"I can't go there, Severus; they all hate me now. They see me as an enemy. I…"
"Hermione, Rufus Scrimgeour is dead. He's just been tortured and killed at Malfoy Manor because he refused to give up the location of Harry Potter. But you know as well as I do that the boy is in Ottery St. Catchpole, and there's a group of Death Eaters headed there in a few hours for a bit of raid to celebrate the fall of the Ministry. If they capture Potter, they will take him to the Dark Lord, and he will be murdered. Then any hope, any hope, for defeating him…"
Hermione nodded quickly, feeling nauseated. "I understand," she whispered. Then, glancing down at her sweatshirt and denims, she shrugged and said absently, "I don't have a proper dress."
Severus sighed roughly, sounding irritated, and snatched his own black traveling cloak off of the hook by the door. He held it aloft and pointed his wand at it, flicking and swirling the tip about for a few moments and murmuring incantations. Gradually, the cloak began to shrink and shift and warp. It was no longer a cape; it was now a trim dress.
He shoved it into Hermione's hands, and she stared down at it in distracted wonder. She'd no idea he could tailor so well. She tossed off her sweatshirt and yanked down her denims and pulled on the dress he'd made, tugging it into place and staring down at the way it seemed to fit her perfectly.
It was wool, the same black material as his traveling robe, and nipped in at her waist before drifting out into a 1950s-style flared skirt. The neckline curved modestly around her chest and there were equally conservative cap sleeves, a detail which made Hermione smirk a bit.
"Jewelry?" she asked Severus vaguely, raising her gaze to him. He huffed and rolled his eyes impatiently, grumbling,
"We are rushing there to warn the fools, Hermione, not to socialize." But he hurried to point his wand at the empty water glass on the coffee table and transfigured it into a dangling crystal pendant on a silver chain. Hermione pointed her wand at her own trainers and changed them into simple black pumps, slipping them onto her feet. She dashed up the stairs and grabbed her purple expanded purse. As they hurried down Spinner's End to the Apparition point, she murmured to Severus,
"What exactly am I telling them? And who shall I tell?"
"Find Molly and Arthur Weasley as soon as you get there. Try to get them to speak with you privately. Tell them that the Ministry has fallen and that Death Eaters will be there in a matter of hours - that everyone must leave at once. Then come back here. I will follow you. You must not be seen by a Death Eater, Hermione. They know you're with me, and if you're seen at the wedding, then my credibility is completely compromised, you understand?"
They paused near the Apparition point, and Hermione frowned. "Then why don't you disguise me with a Potion or something so that I'm not recognized?" she demanded.
Severus sighed impatiently. "The Order must be able to have confidence in you," he said firmly, "and so you must show your face to them. It's a difficult, complicated balancing act, being a double agent, Hermione."
"I'm not a double agent!" she cried, but as he stared silently at her, she realized that she rather had become one, just by association with him. She nodded minutely. "Let's go."
The giant tent that had been set up on the grounds of the Burrow was rather hideous, Hermione thought with a grimace as she walked cautiously through its opening. It was as though a purple-hued candy shop had vomited on the interior of the tent. Certainly, it was not to Hermione's taste.
"What are you doing here?"
Hermione shut her eyes and sighed lightly. She had been very much hoping that the first person to spot her would not be Ginny Weasley, but there the red-haired girl was, standing in her bridesmaid's dress with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Hermione.
"Please, Ginny," Hermione said, "it's very important. I need to speak with your parents."
"My parents?" Ginny cocked her head to the side skeptically and scoffed. "They're rather busy. Sorry. There's a wedding today, you know."
Hermione frowned. "Where's Ronald? Harry?"
Ginny snorted. "Right. Like I'm going to let you anywhere near them right now. I want you leave, Hermione. I don't know why you've come, but I want you to leave. Now."
Feeling thoroughly irritated now, Hermione snatched Ginny's arm and dragged her roughly to the corner of the tent, ignoring the other's girl's vocal protests. Hermione whirled around and cast a wandless Muffliato around the two of them.
"Listen to me, Ginny," she hissed hastily. "Voldemort's taken over the Ministry of Magic. Rufus Scrimgeour is dead. In a few hours, Death Eaters are going to come here and hurt people. Everyone needs to leave - to scatter. You understand? Go get your parents. Now."
Ginny looked horrified for a brief moment, and then she furrowed her eyebrows angrily and demanded, "And how is it that you've come about this information, Hermione? Severus told you, is it? Or did he kill Scrimgeour himself? Like he killed Dumbledore?"
Hermione could take it no longer. She let out a feral growl, and she reached out to clutch desperately at Ginny's shoulders and shook the other girl in frustration.
"He had to kill Dumbledore! Don't any of you understand? He had to! To save all of you ungrateful bastards! Dumbledore ordered him to do it - oh, it's complicated, Ginny, but… please, please believe me! I've been with him, alone, for months now… Severus is not evil! He's on our side; don't you understand? Why can't you all understand that he is braver than any of you!"
Hermione felt hot tears burning in her eyes now, and she saw shock cross Ginny Weasley's face with every word that she spoke. Ginny's pale eyes went wide and her lips parted as Hermione continued frantically,
"He made me come here to warn all of you! Even though you all hate him, hate me, hate us! I'm sorry, Ginny - I'm not sure what I could have done differently. There's nothing at all Severus could have done differently. He's always acted so selflessly in all of this. To a fault, I should say, at the expense of his reputation and to the point of being almost universally reviled. But he doesn't care, don't you see? He wants the same thing as all of you!"
There were tears in Ginny's eyes now, too, and a guilty expression crossed over the girl's face. Her bottom lip trembled a bit as she whispered quietly,
"I - I'll go get Mum."
She took a step back from Hermione and walked away, out of the tent, with her eyes staring numbly ahead as if she'd just received a great shock. Hermione slumped into a chair at a table and put her head into her hands, to hide the tears she could no longer hold back. After what felt like an eternity, she heard,
"Hermione?"
She looked up to see Mrs. Weasley standing above her, dressed in simple dark purple robes, her hair bound up neatly, beside her smartly-dressed husband. Arthur was staring down at Hermione with a deep frown wrinkling his forehead. Behind the two of them was Ginny, her pale face splotched red from crying. Hermione knew she must have told them everything Hermione told her.
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Hermione began in a cracked whisper, "I'm very sorry to interrupt the wedding. I know I'm not exactly wanted here."
"It's always very good to see you, dear," Molly Weasley said kindly, but her face looked terribly sad, and more than a little reticent.
"I - I've come to convey a warning," Hermione nodded, "that the Ministry has been quietly overthrown by Death Eaters. They will be here in a few hours for a raid. Please, you must send everyone home and take down the tent. It isn't safe here. I'm sorry."
"And you were told this… by Professor Snape?" Arthur Weasley raised his eyebrows expectantly, turning down the corners of his mouth. Hermione knew what he was thinking. His own daughter was only a year younger than Hermione, and the man was horrified at the thought of a girl barely older than Ginny with a man like Severus Snape. But Hermione just nodded resolutely.
"Mr. Weasley, you must understand that everything - everything - Severus has done up to this point has been on Dumbledore's orders. Everything."
"He sliced off George's ear," Ginny piped up behind her mother, and Hermione sighed.
"He was actually protecting him... from a Death Eater who was trying to kill Remus Lupin," Hermione insisted softly, and she saw Molly Weasley swallow heavily. Hermione flicked her eyes between the three of them. "He didn't mean to take off George's ear. He felt badly for it." She paused and watched as Molly and Arthur looked at each other for a long moment. Molly nodded firmly.
"Arthur, dear… quietly circulate around, then, tell everyone the wedding's put off until a safer date. Then go find Ronald and Harry and send them to -" She paused and stared down at Hermione, pursing her lips. "It's not that I don't trust you, dear, but Severus Snape is a very accomplished Legilimens. Arthur, come with me."
She ushered Mr. Weasley away to prevent Hermione from hearing any more sensitive information, leaving Hermione alone with Ginny. Hermione sighed heavily and put her head back into her hands.
"I should leave now," she murmured to Ginny. "I suppose I'll see you at school. It's to be mandatory, you know, for half-bloods and purebloods to attend. Muggle-borns shan't be allowed."
Ginny squared her jaw. "Then how would you see me at school, Hermione? Special dispensation for the girlfriend of Professor Snape?"
Hermione scowled. "No, Ginny." She shook her head. "My mother's a Squib, and her mother attended Beauxbatons. I've only recently discovered it." She said the words very deliberately, pronouncing each one carefully and flicking her thick eyebrows up at the girl she'd once called her friend. "I'm a half-blood."
"Oh, you are, are you?" Ginny said.
"Didn't know you put much stock into blood status," Hermione mumbled, pulling herself up from her chair and smoothing her black wool skirt. "I really should go now. Goodbye, Ginny. Stay safe." She started to walk away, but felt Ginny's fingertips touch her arm gently. She turned round to face the girl and sighed when she saw the look of concern in Ginny's eyes.
"Are you safe, Hermione?" she asked matter-of-factly, and Hermione nodded. She was not entirely sure if that was true, if she was honest. She was actually probably in grave danger, but, then, they all were. They were all likely to die at any given moment on any day now, and Hermione was just as safe as any of them.
"I love him, Ginny," she said honestly, "and he is a good man. Please remember that. Not everything you see is what it seems. Not everything you hear is the deep truth. And not everything a person is what they want to do. You understand?"
Ginny nodded gravely. "Goodbye, Hermione. Thank you. Thank you for warning us."
Hermione nodded curtly. She strode quickly from the decorated tent and out into the meadow, kissed by the warm midday sun. She Disapparated to Spinner's End and landed hard upon the street there. A moment later Severus appeared beside her, his Disillusionment Charm having worn off during transport.
"How much did you see? How much did you hear?" she demanded as they strode back to his house, for there was a steely look in his eyes that she did not quite recognize.
"Everything," he answered.
Hours later, Hermione sat staring at the dancing flames in the fireplace, her heart thumping nervously in her chest. It would be done now, she knew - the Ministry was officially Voldemort's now, and any attempt to raid the wedding at the Burrow would have come and gone. If Severus had been suspected of sabotage, they'd have known it by now. She sipped absently on a hot cup of rooibos tea, setting the rattling cup and saucer down when she realized how badly her hands were shaking.
"Thank you," she heard Severus murmur from the chair opposite her. He raised his eyes from the book he was reading - a thick tome on the use of chili peppers in Potions-making - and dragged the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip. Hermione shivered and whispered,
"For what?"
"For… defending me," Severus clarified rather self-consciously, shifting in his chair. "I appreciate your loyalty."
Hermione just nodded silently and stared down at her trembling hands. "I love you, Severus," she insisted, her voice cracking a little.
"And I you," he promised, closing his thick book and setting it down on the coffee table. He pushed himself up from his chair and glided smoothly until he stood directly in front of Hermione. He extended the palm of his hand to her, and she placed her own hand in his delicately, pulling herself up until she was standing up against him.
"It's going to be all right," he told her, though they both knew it was an empty pledge. Nothing was certain to be all right, and very little was likely to be all right. But it didn't matter. She was shaking and knew her face was pale. She had sat, too worried about her friends to do anything but sip tea and gaze into the fire for hours.
So it didn't really matter if there was any truth to what Severus said - that everything would be all right. What mattered was the way he put the palm of his hand flat against the small of her back and pulled her snugly against his own body. What mattered was the way his other hand cupped her cheek and turned her face up to his, the way his lips descended to hers and pressed gently with a spicy-sweet kiss.
He pulled his wand from the inside of his frock coat and pointed it at his old record player, making a few flicking and dragging motions until he'd arranged a vinyl record to start playing. The static-rich sound of cello, violin, and piano filled the little space, and Hermione felt a swell of calm come over her.
Severus pulled her right hand up in his left and she put her own left hand on his shoulder. He encouraged her to sway a little to the music, the same lackadaisical sort of dancing they'd done in the corridor outside Slughorn's party months earlier. It was soothing and comforting and warm and wonderful, Hermione thought. She rested her head against his chest and felt the little buttons of his frock coat against her cheek, felt the thump of his heart beneath the thick wool, the rise and fall of his chest with each steady breath. She let out a happy little hum against him, quite forgetting how anxious she'd been just minutes earlier.
"I meant it," she murmured against his sternum. "You are a good man. I know sometimes you don't want to be thought of that way."
"I don't mind if you think of me that way," Severus admitted, letting out a low chuckle that vibrated deliciously through Hermione's cheek. She felt him kiss the top of her head, and then he said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what sort of man I really am anymore, anyway. I don't suppose it truly matters."
"It matters." Hermione nodded, his little buttons scratching at her cheek. "It matters."
They swayed in silence for long minutes, through one song and then the next, never breaking away from each other. His hand held hers, gently and securely all at once, and his feet moved in a carefully rocking circle, expertly guiding Hermione around the tiny space in a slow pattern. She felt his palm nestled securely in the small of her back, and she sighed again peacefully.
"How am I going to get to school?" she wondered absently. "I don't know if I ought to ride the Hogwarts Express alone these days, but I can't very well show up to school with you."
"You shall have to take the train," Severus told her, a twinge of regret in his voice. "Anything else would be far too suspicious. You'll be fine, Hermione. You're a brilliant witch. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. Any time I've hovered with you has been more for my own peace of mind than for your actual safety. The reality is that you don't need me to protect you - you are qualified to protect yourself."
Hermione felt her feet stop moving of their own accord, felt her face rise up to look at him with wide-eyed surprise. Severus Snape did not compliment people. He simply did not. Certainly not to the extent that he'd just done to her - to tell her that she was 'brilliant,' that she was 'qualified' and 'capable.' His affirmation meant more than any words Hermione had ever heard. She saw his cheeks color a bit at the way she was staring at him.
"I am very much in love with you," she said rather fiercely, and she meant it more than she could properly express. Severus quirked up half his mouth into a pensive, sly smile.
"Well, that's a relief to hear." He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers carefully. His right hand pressed the small of her back more tightly against him. He smiled against her mouth and murmured, "Because unrequited love makes for a good Victor Hugo novel, but a rather terrible reality, you know. I'm very glad to hear you love me back, Hermione Jean Granger. Otherwise, I should feel very lonesome indeed, drowning in you all the time as I do."
He kissed her then, warmly and gently, his tongue caressing her mouth expertly as he sighed into her body. And Hermione was no longer afraid of anything - not of Voldemort, or of school, or of death itself. She had Severus, for as long as she had him, and that was enough.
The Hogwarts Express felt very empty. Well, it didn't feel empty, Hermione realized. It was empty. None of the Muggle-born students were allowed to attend school this year, and some of the half-blood students' parents had made excuses for why they were unable to attend. Attendance was mandatory for anyone with sufficient blood status.
Hermione took a seat alone in a compartment and used her wand to direct her trunk up onto the rack overhead. She stared out the window onto the platform at King's Cross and watched students boarding the train, noting the looks of dread on so many parents' faces as they bid their children farewell.
Even Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy looked strained and unwell, and Draco looked less than ecstatic about returning to school, she noticed. Pansy Parkinson looked quite pleased with herself as she scrambled aboard the train, as did Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and the Greengrass girls. Ernie Macmillan looked anxious, and Hermione noticed that his friend Justin Finch-Fletchley - a Muggle-born - was gone.
Neville Longbottom's grandmother had a look of rage on her face as her grandson ambled onto the Hogwarts Express. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt when she saw Augusta Longbottom's steely face. She could not imagine that woman's life - having seen her own child tortured into oblivion by Bellatrix Lestrange, then raising her grandson up into another war.
Ginny Weasley boarded with Luna at her side, but she would be the only Weasley at Hogwarts this year. Ron was with Harry, who was now Undesirable Number One.
Hermione wondered anxiously where Harry and Ron were, knowing that they had almost certainly begun to hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes. She wanted to help them - she knew she could help them, but had no way of reaching them. She twirled her wand absently in her fingers and sighed anxiously as the train rumbled out of King's Cross, and she ignored the nervous way the parents on the platform waved goodbye to their children.
There was a gentle knocking upon the compartment in which Hermione sat, and she glanced up to see Neville Longbottom through the glass. She flashed him a weak little smile and beckoned for him to enter. He did, a worried frown on his face, and he sat opposite her, clasping his hands together anxiously.
"Erm… hi, there, Hermione," he began softly, and Hermione tried to smile again.
"Hello, Neville." She thought about asking him how his summer was, but realized that was a ridiculous question. So she just waited for him to speak. He'd obviously come here for a reason.
"Is - is it true, Hermione?" Neville's kind eyes looked pained as he winced and pulled back a little.
Hermione pursed her lips and nodded. She didn't need to ask him to clarify. He wanted to know whether or not she was in love with Severus Snape. Hermione debated whether or not to tell Neville any more. Luna knew the truth, and Ginny. But, of course, she couldn't go round telling everyone who would listen that Severus was on the side of Dumbledore and wasn't really a Death Eater. That would undermine his ability to maintain appearances with Voldemort, to continue any measure of effective double agency - to stay alive.
Naturally, Neville had always been an ally, a very important member of Dumbledore's Army and the child of two martyrs for the Order of the Phoenix. But Hermione knew she couldn't tell him too many details. It would open up too many questions; it would overcomplicate matters. It would make everyone weak and susceptible. So all she said was,
"Neville, I sincerely hope you know that I am not an evil person. I would never - never - run off an evil person. That's truly all I can say about it. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, all right." Neville nodded skeptically and looked as though she'd deeply wounded his feelings. Hermione shut her eyes for a moment, remembering how in their third year, Neville's Boggart had been of Severus. He was more afraid of Severus than of anything else in the world. Even if she told him the truth, it wouldn't matter. Neville would always fear and hate Severus. Thus, compromising lives for the sake of Hermione's own friendship with Neville would be foolhardy and reckless. She would simply have to accept that Neville would not trust her, that he would think ill of her.
It was, after all, what Severus had had to do for years now - he'd had to endure glares and jeers and whispers all in the name of the cause. Now it was Hermione's turn.
She watched as Neville silently made his way from her compartment out into the corridor of the train, and she leaned her head sadly against the window, watching the world fly by her.
She thought back to the last night she'd had at Spinner's End, when Severus had been lying beside her in the lumpy bed with the tatty old quilt.
"It is not going to be pleasant," he'd said, "Amycus Carrow is going to teach a course on the Dark Arts that teaches students how to hex and curse one another. Alecto's Muggle Studies course will focus on the 'disgusting' and 'lesser' nature of Muggles. Oh, and it is to be required."
Hermione had tucked herself into his bare chest and frowned deeply. "They're all going to hate me," she had murmured thoughtfully. "I shall have no friends at all."
"Miss Lovegood, at the very least, seems friendly still," Severus had noted with a little flick of his eyebrows, "though we shall have to see how she holds up. You'll just have to do without friends, I'm afraid."
Hermione stared out the train window, pressing her palm to it and watching as dewy fog gathered on the cold glass around her warm skin. Outside, raindrops lashed at the train as they headed north. Hermione's chest ached as she remembered how Severus had moved to hover above her.
"I will do everything I can," he had promised, leaning down to kiss her softly, "to protect everyone. All of the students, the teachers… you, most of all."
"You're only one man, Severus," Hermione had reminded him sadly, looking up into the sharp, deep black eyes above her. She'd brushed her fingertips over his collarbone and he'd shivered and said,
"I'm the only man who will be in any position to do anything at all. I will do everything I can."
Severus climbed the stairs of the Headmaster's Tower and stalked down the Gargoyle Corridor, feeling rather sick as he did. He should not be here, not under these circumstances. If he were to come down this corridor, it should be to visit Dumbledore in his office and receive instruction… not to usurp him. But here he was, standing in front of the stone gargoyle that had greeted him as a visitor for decades whenever he had come here. Now, it greeted him as its master, sweeping aside regally to grant him entrance.
"Administer… password, Headmaster…" The whisper was ghostly and distant, and when Severus turned back to the gargoyle, he frowned to hear it take advantage of its rarely-used ability to speak. He pulled out his elegant black wand and pointed it at the gargoyle's back, murmuring,
"Le sang est du sang."
"Thank you." The gargoyle closed the entrance behind Severus as he trotted silently up the steps. He swept into the large circular room, so familiar to him, and noticed two things straight away. First, many of Dumbledore's whirring silver instruments were gone, though Severus had no idea to where they had vanished. The space was more empty than he was accustomed to seeing it.
The second thing he noticed was Albus Dumbledore himself, hanging in a large portrait directly behind the Headmaster's desk. Severus paused in the threshold of the doorway and swallowed heavily. This wasn't really Albus, he knew; it was just a rendering of him, just a painted version of himself that Albus had trained over the years to mimic his mannerisms and opinions. But, just the same, it was eerie to see the old man's face staring back at him again.
'Severus, please...'
Severus shook his head firmly and strutted briskly into the office, tipping his head up with feigned confidence. The portrait of Dumbledore said nothing at first, just smiled a little at him over his half-moon spectacles and folded his hands patiently upon the purple robes he would wear in perpetuity. Severus put his wand down upon the desk and glances around the room rather anxiously. The other headmasters' portraits were all staring at him now, having roused themselves from real or pretended sleep. Most wore an expression of skepticism, but Phineas Nigellus Black looked warmly receptive, and Edessa Skandenburg glanced up from her embroidery to give him the smallest hint of a smile.
"Welcome, Headmaster Snape," said the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, and Severus felt sick again.
"Why did you make me do it?" Severus demanded without pretense. He'd heard the real Albus tell him dozens of times. He wanted to hear it from the painted version. Portrait Dumbledore's pale eyes crinkled as his kind smile broadened, and he said softly,
"Because you could not truly do it, no more than Draco could. The difference is that your clever workaround was a fulfilment of duty to the light, not the sale of your soul to the dark. Your loyalty and courage shall be rewarded, Severus."
"I don't want a reward," Severus shook his head and slumped into the chair behind the desk, staring up at the portraits. "I want peace."
Portrait Dumbledore chuckled gently. "Ah, yes. Peace. Peace would be splendid. Fight for peace, Severus. It is a most noble pursuit."
"Damned good to see a Slytherin in here once again," he heard Phineas Nigellus Black intone from his portrait, and Severus pinched his lips as he turned up to the pureblood enthusiast. He just nodded politely, not wanting to cause an uproar by disrespecting former Headmasters straight away. Besides, he may need the support of the portraits' secondary locations. It seemed most unwise to make enemies of any of them.
"I am ill-suited for this job," Severus mumbled to Portrait Dumbledore after some time of sitting contemplatively in his chair. "What am I intended to say at the Opening Feast? 'Welcome to Hogwarts! This year, we offer you a bolstered curriculum featuring hateful propaganda and practical lessons on maiming one another. Detentions this year shall not consist of cleaning cauldrons with no magic - oh, no, you silly children. This year, shall you cross your teachers, you shall be receiving the Cruciatus Curse. Therefore, I advise you to mind your damned manners.'"
"Wilt thou truly say such things to the pupils?" Above Severus, the Renaissance-era portrait of former Headmistress Edessa Skandenburg glared at him with horror on her brushed face. Severus rolled his black eyes up at her.
"No; I shall not actually say that, Edessa. To do so would be giving fair warning, no? But of course that is the school now. I'm simply honored and flattered to lead such a place."
"I had always understood you to be a ruthless disciplinarian in your lessons, Severus." Armando Dippet, who had himself been known as a very strict Headmaster, eyed Severus carefully. "Use that personality trait to your advantage - the school shall now a more ordered place than it was under Dumbledore, to be certain. But you must surreptitiously keep any true cruelty from coming to the students here. It is your duty as Headmaster."
"There is only so much I can do," Severus began impatiently, but then he stopped and rested his face in his hands. He raised his onyx eyes to Dumbledore's portrait and moaned softly, "I am tired, Albus."
Dumbledore's portrait chuckled a little. "So you must be. But, alas, the road ahead is long and winding, and you must gather your strength, Severus."
"And how, precisely, do you expect me to interact properly with Minerva McGonagall this year?" Severus demanded hotly. "The woman believes me to be a cold-blooded murderer! How am I to be amicable with her?"
"You aren't." The portrait of Dumbledore shook his head, and his painted beard swayed regally. "Minerva is unfortunately misinformed, but nothing can be done for that for the time being. But you shall cope with her presence, and she shall cope with the changes, for you and she have the same goal in mind - the safety of the students here."
Severus sighed heavily and turned his chair away from the portraits. He unfurled a few scrolls on his desk, a list of new students, and began absently perusing them. He had no further wish to converse with dead painted people tonight.
The Start-of-Term Feast felt significantly more solemn than usual, and the Great Hall was much more sparsely populated. Severus could feel the glaring eyes of students - most especially of Gryffindors - upon him. They did not know he was responsible for his predecessor's death. All they knew was that they did not want Severus Snape for their Headmaster. They seemed even less enthused when Severus announced the appointments of the Carrows to teaching positions and very briefly warned that discipline would be more strict than in years past. The Sorting Hat ceremony was a bit awkward when there were far more Slytherins sorted than was proportionately normal. But soon enough, most everyone in the Great Hall was tucked into their meals, enjoying the feast while engaging in droning, buzzing conversations.
Severus picked at his steak-and-kidney pie for a while, flicking his eyes up every once in a while to watch Hermione. She was sitting alone, ignored by Longbottom and Ginny Weasley and others at the Gryffindor table that might have normally been friendly with her. She was paging through a thick book and nibbling upon a dinner roll, and she looked rather dejected. Severus felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she was being ostracized from her House-mates because of him, but it ultimately it simply made him angry with the other Gryffindors for being so ignorant.
He was jarred from his reverie when Alecto Carrow said from beside him, "House Elves make a damned good kidney pie here. I'd forgotten."
"Yes..." Severus looked at her with an expression of boredom, taking in the way Alecto had yanked her strawberry blonde hair into a plain ponytail and had donned dark brocade robes. She was an unsophisticated, piggish little woman, but she looked as intimidating as her brother. Severus pinched his lips. "I do hope you find the food satisfactory, Alecto."
The witch guffawed as she slurped on her pumpkin juice. "Oh, Severus. Have you always been so pleasant, hmm?"
Severus ignored her and turned back to his own food. A moment later, though, Alecto tapped his shoulder, and Severus flinched at the contact. He scowled at her and watched as she chewed a large bite, swallowing before she murmured,
"That one. Granger. What is she doing here? I thought she was a Mudblood."
Severus felt a shiver of hate course through his veins for Alecto, but he kept his face impassive. He glanced down at Hermione and shook his head calmly. "She is not," he said. "Squib for a mother, from what I understand, with relatives who attended Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Dolores Umbridge confirmed last week that her documentation was not forged."
"Hmph." Alecto nodded but sounded skeptical. Then she smirked and leered, "Still keep her for your pet, do you? Bellatrix told me you've got the girl's cunny all wrapped up for yourself."
Severus wanted to vomit, but he just blinked his stony eyes and said, "She is mine, Alecto. Do what you will with the others, but leave that one untouched."
"Of course, Headmaster." Alecto let a little edge of playful petulance come into her oily voice, and then she chuckled in her throat. "Wouldn't want to damage your goods. But, you know, Bellatrix says the girl is a close friend of Harry Potter. Is that true?"
"Miss Granger is thoroughly estranged from her old friends," Severus confirmed. "They utterly rejected her in the wake of Dumbledore's death, once it was discovered she was an associate of mine. And, anyway, Alecto, you should remember that Bellatrix is - mercifully - not the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Her personal grudges have no bearing here. I am telling you to stay away from what is mine, you understand?"
Alecto nodded, more seriously this time. Severus knew he was feared by many Death Eaters for his magical abilities and nearness to Voldemort, and he played that up now as he sat up straighter in his chair.
"I see the younger Weasley girl," Alecto noted, "but where is her blood traitor brother, the one who is friends with Potter?"
"Ronald? Oh, spattergroit, I am made to understand," Severus said with a casual air of boredom. He had received a formal letter from St. Mungo's confirming a diagnosis of spattergroit in Ronald Weasley, explaining that the boy would not be attending school for the foreseeable future. Severus knew full well that the letter was a fake, that the boy was not ill, but he'd filed it away just the same and kept up the ruse.
"Hmph," Alecto said again, swigging ungracefully at her pumpkin juice. She said nothing else for the rest of the feast, fortunately, but Severus was still left with a terrible pit of dread in his stomach after speaking with her.
For more than twenty non-consecutive years, Severus had made his home in the dungeons of Hogwarts - first as a Slytherin student, then as Potions Master, and finally as teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was therefore a preposterous notion that he would take over Albus Dumbledore's private chambers. He had shuddered at the thought. Beyond the inconvenience of moving all his personal items from the Dungeons up to the Headmaster's Tower, there was the issue of sleeping in the bed Dumbledore had occupied for forty years. So, he simply did not make the move. He left the Headmaster's private quarters untouched, and he moved straight back into the Dungeon chambers he'd occupied for the past fifteen years.
Tonight, when he walked into the antechamber of his rooms, he sighed heavily, feeling quite exhausted. It was too early to sleep, but too late to wander the castle, so he sank into an armchair and pointed his wand at his fireplace. "Incendio."
He flicked on his Wizarding Radio and listened for a while, but in between songs, there were Ministry notifications that left him feeling more unsettled than ever.
"Good evening! This is Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. Your Ministry would like to remind you that all Muggle-Born inhabitants of Britain are required to submit to Ministry headquarters immediately for private consultations regarding their individual futures. In the next several weeks, notices will be issued to those who have failed to attend. Members of the Magical community, it is all of our obligation to ensure that the Muggle-Borns among us are properly registered with the Ministry, so please do your part and kindly encourage any known Muggle-Borns to turn themselves over - hem, hem! - to meet with a Ministry representative… sooner rather than later! Thank you, and goodnight!"
Dolores Umbridge's grating, terrible squeak of a voice faded, and the radio gave way to a sweeping piano sonata. But Severus had heard enough. He flicked his wand at the radio again and it shut off, cloaking the room in silence. Severus sat staring at the fire for a long while, until behind him there was a little pop. He turned curiously over his shoulder, and felt his eyes go wide when he saw Hermione standing in the middle of the room. In her right hand was his brass pocket-watch - her Oraverit - and she was swaying a bit as she recovered from Apparating into the room. Severus rose smoothly and put his slender fingertips on the back of the armchair, trying to drink her in.
She was wearing a simple nightgown, coral stretch cotton that reached her ankles and had little cap sleeves and a trim of lace around the sweetheart neckline. It was nothing provocative, but after many days apart from her, Severus found himself suddenly thirsty for her. Her caramel-colored hair hung around her face and shoulders in loose, messy curls, and Severus wanted to bury his fingers against her scalp. He swallowed heavily and said the opposite of what he was feeling.
"You shouldn't have come."
She looked a little hurt at that, and she chewed her lip. "I know. I told Parvati and Lavender I was going to take a long bath in the Prefects' Bathroom… and I think I may have mumbled something about needing to stay up in the Common Room to start working on an extra essay for Professor Binns… I don't know. It sounded unbelievable even to my own ears. I'm rather a terrible liar."
Severus frowned. "You should go back," he said firmly, fighting against his own instincts. "It isn't safe for you to be sneaking about to be with me."
Her chestnut eyes swam with tears as she said, "This place isn't safe at all, Severus, whether I sneak about with you or not. I feel much safer in your room than anywhere else. I know that much."
He nodded hesitantly. "Come here." His voice was dry and cracked a little, losing its characteristic smoothness in his want for her. She obeyed him and stalked gracefully across his rug, stopping when she stood before him as her little fingers reached up to work at the buttons on his frock coat.
"I'm not just your lover, you know," Hermione murmured, staring at his sternum determinedly. Severus frowned a bit in confusion as she very slowly unfastened his buttons, but she clarified, "I'm with you. In every way. This is an enormous, inhuman task that's been set before you - to keep everyone in this castle safe while maintaining a believable image of wickedness. It's insane, really, to ask it of anyone. But you are so undaunted, Severus, and really rather stubborn. You'd never ask for help, I know. But I am offering it just the same. I am here. I am with you. I am not just your paramour, your little 'girlfriend.' I would be your companion, your confidante, your partner in every way. I would everything that you would have me be."
Severus felt a deep ache in his chest then, a physical pain as she spoke. He had not realized until just now how deeply his sense of solitude ran. Deep into his bones, he was a cloistered, lonely man. It had never bothered him until just now, until he realized that somehow Hermione would have to get back to Gryffindor Tower and that he wouldn't wake with her beside her as he'd done for those weeks at Spinner's End.
She pushed his frock coat from him and he shook it off until it landed with a quiet thump upon the floor, letting her go to work on the buttons on his white shirt. His hands reached up and took her face, and the pads of his thumbs glided under her eyes.
He wasn't sure what exactly to say to her. He wanted to thank her for her support in the awful tasks assigned him; he wanted to accept her offers of help and tell her that she was the most capable ally he could ask for. But somehow the words were lost in his chest when he looked at her face. In her wide amber eyes, though, he could see that she knew. She knew that he loved her, that he was grateful for her. He didn't have to say anything at all, so he didn't. He just leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, softly as he possibly could, and sighed a little.
His shirt was gliding off of his torso, and then he felt her fingers at his waistband, working on the buttons of his trousers. Severus absently kicked off his dragon hide boots and let his fingers drift down Hermione's cheeks until they came to rest upon her shoulders. He gently pushed the cap sleeves of her stretchy nightgown down over her arms and urged the garment downward until it pooled at her feet like liquid. Her small, perfect breasts were bared to him, and he could not stifle the small grunt of want in the back of his throat.
"So beautiful," he murmured against her mouth, once he had the presence of mind to kiss her again. "You're very beautiful."
They moved toward the bed, at one point stumbling mid-kiss so that Severus had to grab Hermione's waist and keep her from falling. He paused and slid his hands around her, one arm tucking beneath her knees while the other cradled her back, and then he lifted her up smoothly into his arms. He was not the most physically strong of men, but Hermione was a small woman. She squealed quietly when he swept her up, and she stared up at him with heat in her brown eyes.
He placed her very gently upon his duvet and hovered above her, returning to the task of kissing her. She tasted like honey, like vanilla and caramel, and he moaned softly when she slipped her tongue around his mouth as if in search of something. His thumbs hooked inside the waistband of her knickers and pulled them slowly down - she lifted her bum to help him - and then he tossed them aside carelessly. He did the same with his own black boxer briefs, revealing his rather insistent erection to her.
Severus thought back to when he'd barrelled into Hermione in his eighteen-year-old body, how he'd only been able to last a few moments with his rapid pace and sensitive organ. Now as he looked down at her smooth skin, kissed by firelight, he wanted to be slow and gentle. He wanted to feel her. He needed it, after a night like tonight.
Perhaps, he thought distantly, nearness to Hermione might help soothe the pain of being The Headmaster Who Turned Hogwarts Into A Dark Arts Academy. He frowned a bit as he lay beside Hermione and rolled her over to arrange her so that she was spooning with him. She sighed contentedly and tucked her body into a comfortable position, as if she were lying on her side to go to sleep. Severus stared down at her for a long moment and reached his slender fingers out to trace the outline of her slightly curving form. Down over her ribcage his fingers drifted, then past her slim waist and the little swell of her hips, and then they trailed off down her thigh until he couldn't reach anymore. She shivered and said softly, "Can… can you perform the Breviter Sterilitatem? I haven't my wand, nor the confidence that I can do it wandlessly."
Severus nodded, though she could not see him. As he reached gently around her and rested his palm on her belly, summoning his magic from his solar plexus, he leaned down and kissed the skin beneath her ear. She shuddered again, first at his kiss and then at the dull vibration inside her when his protective spell coursed through her body.
It would not do to put a child in her, of course, for so many reasons Severus couldn't begin to count them. So he put all the force he could into the spell, into protecting her from himself and what his body could do to her.
He kept kissing her neck and drew his hand up to her breast, palming it gently and tweaking her nipple with the calloused pad of his thumb. She whimpered a little and murmured, "Oh! That feels… mmm, Severus."
Her breathless enthusiasm sent a twitch through Severus' cock, which pressed and throbbed against the small of her back. He shifted a little and grunted quietly at the feel of her skin. "I want to please you," he growled smoothly into her ear, his low voice sending a palpable shockwave down her spine as she shivered. He nibbled for a moment on her earlobe and kept massaging her breast, pushing his cock against her back rhythmically. "Tell me how to please you, Hermione."
"Ungh, just…" Her voice had risen in pitch and was soft, panting, as she squirmed against his hand and quivered at the sound of his voice. Severus smirked, adoring his effect on her, and he lathed his tongue down to bite very gently at the skin between her neck and shoulder. Hermione cried out desperately, her own hands gripping the duvet in little fists. "You're doing just fine."
"What about this?" Severus asked, his voice a silky, low grumble as he moved his hand down from her breast to nestle between her thighs. She moaned urgently and nodded frantically and parted her legs a little to make it easier for him to touch her.
Severus' cock was screaming for attention, throbbing and aching almost painfully, and he rubbed it against Hermione's back as his own breath quickened in his nostrils. She was wet already when he snaked his fingertips around her folds, and her swollen entrance grew even more sodden as he stroked her. She arched her back, pushing her bottom against him, and Severus groaned with unquenched thirst.
"Do you like it when I touch you?" he asked, his once-smooth voice becoming throaty and gravelly as his arousal increased. His fingers danced around her clit and curled inside of her, and she nodded frantically again.
"Yes…" she moaned. "I like it."
"Tell me you love me." Severus wasn't sure quite why he said that. He'd been intending to come across as the more dominant sexual partner, the one who had the ability and experience to guide their encounter. But instead he unexpectedly found himself burying his face in her neck, his head spinning as he smelled fresh spring rain on her skin. He growled and pushed his cock against her back and almost spilled himself as her walls clenched around his fingers. He whispered again, "Tell me you love me, Hermione."
She suddenly whirled around, still recovering from her orgasm, and pushed his left shoulder down so that he was lying on his back. She tossed her right leg over his hips quickly and aimed the engorged tip of Severus' member at her sensitive entrance. As she sank down onto him, she stared into his eyes and said deliberately,
"I love you, Severus."
It was almost too much. He wrenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth and hissed, trying desperately not to finish straight away. He tried to ignore the way she was grinding her hips onto him, the way she'd linked her hands with his and was squeezing his fingers and palms for support. He tried not to focus on her gentle, swaying rhythm or the way she was tight and warm and wet around his shaft. But he couldn't tune any of it out, and he said quickly,
"Slow down. Please, Hermione, slow down. It'll be over too soon."
He cracked his eyes and looked up at her, expecting a smirk or a triumphant giggle or perhaps a look of disappointment. But she just nodded solemnly and eased the way the was moving on him, stilling her hips for a long moment to give him a bit of a break. Severus breathed deeply and looked into her eyes - beautiful pools the color of chocolate - and he let out a few rickety breaths.
"What have I done?" he asked shakily, and a look of confused hurt crossed Hermione's lovely face. Severus shook his head, realizing he'd been cryptic, and clarified, "What have I done to possibly deserve this? A witch like you - a masterpiece of a human - with a creature like me? What have I done to earn you?"
"Oh, my prince…" Hermione smiled weakly and began rocking against him again. She started chanting his name as she moved, and she guided his hands up to fondle her breasts. Then it truly was too much, and Severus could not control the way his body exploded with satisfaction. His seed spilled up into her in warm volleys that sent bolts of pleasure through his veins straight to his bones. His ears rang and his cheeks went warm and his head spun, and then a few moments later she was beside him, panting quietly.
"I should go back," she said into the stillness of the room.
"I wish that you would not," Severus admitted, though he knew full well that she must. "But ensure that you Disillusion yourself on the way back to Gryffindor Tower, if you please. I've instructed the Carrows not to use any Unforgivables on you, but it would be best not to push the limits of that command, eh?"
Hermione nodded mutely and rose, pulling on her knickers and yanking her nightgown down over her head. She started to make her way toward the door, and Severus reached for his wand to ward it behind her. Hermione turned back near the doorway and murmured,
"Please remember what I told you. I'm with you."
He nodded resolutely and quirked a sad little smirk at her. "You may very well be my only true ally," he affirmed, "but you'll do, Hermione Granger."
She reached for the door handle and smiled peacefully. "Goodnight, Severus." The door opened and then shut behind her. Severus lay back down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.
"Goodnight, Hermione."
