Chapter 7
Hermione was bent over an overly large tome, scribbling furiously as she tallied her work with three other books. She was in the common room. It had been a most tiresome day for her and she was in a hurry to wind up her work so that she could seek the comforting lap of slumber.
The fire crackled merrily beside her. Most of the student body was outside. It was still early in the evening. She sucked the end of her quill in thought and coughed immediately. The end was filled with ink! She narrowed her eyes at the offending object for a full minute before she put it down. Ron must have done it. He was shaping to be quite the prankster these days. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had broken up with Lavender. He had to direct his youthful exuberance somewhere, Hermione grimaced.
A soft plop on the cushion beside her made her head turn. It was Harry.
"Where's Ron?" she asked him, not noticing how he looked at her lips in amusement.
"You've got ink all over your mouth," he pointed out and gave her a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes and wiped the ink off with a simple cleansing spell.
"Ron did that, didn't he?"
Harry gave her a half hearted smile this time and nodded. "Yeah. He's downstairs. Trading some dungbombs with a Ravenclaw."
"Ah. Why aren't you with him? Or Ginny?"
At this, Harry's eyes grew tighter around the edges as he looked away. "Ginny and I broke up."
A soft 'oh' of sympathy slid past Hermione's lips and she caught his hand in hers.
"She doesn't want to leave. And to be honest, I don't think I can either. Not that I wouldn't… for her… but I don't think either of us is ready…"
Hermione bit her lip as she stacked her parchments into a neat pile.
Life was difficult, wasn't it?
"Do you really love her, Harry?"
Harry's emerald eyes, his mother's eyes, shone with a strange, intriguing light at her question.
Love…
"I think I do. I've been happy with her so far and we would have… made a good life," he replied thoughtfully.
"I thought you would be more upset about the breakup though."
"I am upset. But not to the extent where I break down," he commented wryly. Hermione gave him a small smile.
"Back when… Every time I saw you, you both appeared like the perfect picture of a united couple. I thought…"
She stopped at the expression on Harry's face. He was staring at her curiously.
"I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you, Hermione."
She frowned in confusion, her puzzlement keenly written all over her plain features.
"I'm not sure I understand what you are getting at, Harry. You've always been-"
Harry cut her off midway before she could finish her sentence.
"You're not happy, Hermione. I… should have…"
She stared at him.
Happy.
She felt like she must laugh.
What a silly notion it was…
"I'll be fine, Harry. These things do take time. I can't say that I've had the best fortune so far but I'll be fine. Don't beat up yourself over it," she mentioned light heartedly, trying to take his mid off the self-flagellation he was intent upon.
The truth was…
She wasn't happy.
But it was to be expected.
Moreover, her existence was bearable.
It wasn't ideal, but she was making do.
Although at times, she wished for a better… something. It didn't matter. She was far too sensible to spend her time bemoaning what couldn't be.
"He's… He's not bad to you, is he?" he asked her tentatively, catching hold of her empty hand in his as he pressed her fingers gently.
There was a sudden rush of something warm and cold within her at the same time. She almost shivered.
"No." She shook her head. It was an honest answer, after all. "He isn't bad. The situation isn't ideal but… he isn't bad."
Harry looked at his hand morosely and nodded. She withdrew from his reach and busied herself with unpacking and repacking her backpack.
Then she remembered something she hadn't spoken to him about.
She turned to face him. The despondency still hung like a malicious vine all over his face.
"You know I saw a dead cat the other day."
He looked at her in puzzlement. "Dead cat?"
"It was all… torn up, ripped and bleeding," she said carefully. Harry's eyes took a look of intent thoughtfulness. "It hung by the ceiling of an abandoned classroom in the east wing."
Harry's eyes were troubled.
"Thomas says it was somehow a sick joke by some demented mind… but I can't seem to stop thinking about it. Somehow, I fell like there is something else behind all this… but I can't put my finger on it."
Harry looked away from her into the merry fire and nodded slowly. "Did you tell someone?"
"Professor Snape." Hermione paused. "He told me to stay in the Tower for what was left of the day. I think he knows something is wrong or at the very least, he feels it."
"Why don't you ask him?"
Hermione raised her eyebrow in an 'are you utterly daft, boy?' fashion and shook her head.
"Do you seriously think he would tell me?"
"I thought you said he wasn't being… nasty to you."
"He isn't. But that doesn't make us friends, does it?"
"He might tell you."
She stared at him for a second.
"You're mocking me, aren't you?"
The corners of Harry's mouth twitched. She hit him on the head with a pillow.
"I'm so glad that my misery amuses you, Harry. I'll be sure to return the favour in future," she commented dryly and huffed.
Harry's eyes grew sober at her remark.
"I'm always there for you. You know that, right?"
Hermione passed him a slight grin. "Yeah, I know. Always there to make fun of me, yeah," she teased him and shook her head. "I'll try to find more about it but I doubt that I will. It bothers me very much though."
"Do we… have to go?" she asked timidly, wondering what humiliation awaited her further.
That day, after class, Snape had asked her to stay behind. She was already fuming within from the suggestive looks a few of her classmates had thrown her way. They had probably assumed the worst. She had groaned inwardly at all the rumours that would ensue following this little… thing.
He had forwarded a letter to her as soon as the last student had vacated the class. It had the Ministry seal on it and Hermione's heart had jumped up to her throat in trepidation. She had almost believed that they had been caught.
But no.
It was only a missive informing them that they had an appointment with the Ministry.
Both of them.
She watched him from where she sat. He was observing her keenly, his dark eyes still cold and empty as Harry had described to her once.
But darkness was familiar.
It did not feel dangerous.
"It is a Ministry summons, Miss Granger."
She nodded and went back to perusing the letter.
"Do you think they know about the…" She caught herself in mid sentence and looked away. She felt so uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
But no matter what, she was not going to say the word 'contraceptive' here in this classroom.
"No. I believe it is routine appointment to check… on the progress."
She noted that his desk had a few nail marks on it. She wondered who had made those.
"Be here tomorrow at eight in the morning."
She nodded in acquiescence. The conversation was over.
Should she leave?
She sneaked a look at him. He had gone back to grading. She stared at his face for a few seconds. Was it her imagination or did her look paler than before? His hands were stained with ink too. Maybe he was writing.
Research.
That reminded of her own research.
Ah.
She wished she could get a peep into his work. It was bound to be fascinating.
"Why are you staring at me, Miss Granger?"
She cursed herself in her mind. It was impolite to stare. Moreover, she thought that the little chat was over and she was free to go. She had most certainly overstayed her welcome and now she had been caught staring.
Yes, that was embarrassing.
"I… um, I was wondering if you could tell me about the cat…" she mumbled and lowered her head. There was no way she was going to let him see her face flushed with embarrassment.
Silence.
"You're lying, Miss Granger. And no, you may not see any of my research."
She looked up, surprised.
Legilimency.
She felt affronted that he had poked around in her head.
She shot him a glare and stood up, leaving quickly so that he wouldn't…
Do what?
He didn't punish her anymore.
No points lost.
No detention.
Still, it was better that she left. For... things.
The Ministry had been rebuilt.
In a new place.
The older location was discarded by consensus. It held far too many bitter memories for the common masses. Instead, a new building was erected just outside London. It wasn't underground. It looked just like any other common building from outside but within itself, it harboured the government for the magical community.
The central hall was decorated with white tiles that varied in colour as people walked on them. Hermione wondered if the colour she walked, purple, was indicative of something. Maybe it had to do with her age. Snape's, she noticed, was grey.
Her small hand rested on his arm and she was distinctly uncomfortable in her position. But, as he had asserted, they had to play the part of a married couple.
Idiotic Ministry.
Something seemed to weigh down on her mind though. She still hadn't forgiven him for poking around in her mind the day before and was making an extra effort to be more frigid but to no avail. He did not notice any shift in her demeanour and that was that.
Oh well.
She had tried.
The receptionist was a blonde witch with red eyebrows. She looked over them as they stepped forward and Snape gave their names to her. Their place of appointment and time was engraved on a piece of metal and Hermione reached forward to pocket it when Snape made no move.
"I'd keep that with myself if I were you. They will restrain you, pending further investigation, if you were to be found without that placard," she commented mildly and her eyes slid to Snape. "Especially you."
Hermione, who was observing the masses gathered around the newly constructed fountain, a dove with an olive branch, thought that her ears must have deceived her. They must have.
Had that woman just…
Ignorance…
She looked at Snape. His face was rigid but there was no indignation in his eyes. If anything, he looked like he had been expecting it. He sneered at the woman in derision.
This for all the sacrifices he made during the war…
She fixed the woman with a distasteful glare. "What is that supposed to mean?"
The woman was taken aback at the sharpness in Hermione's tone but recovered quickly.
"I think we both know what that means."
Meanwhile, Snape's arm was tugging at her gently so that she would move. It annoyed her so she let go.
"You know what, I pity you," Hermione spat. "And never mind what that means, I'd be sure to explain to Minister Shacklebolt about how you treat visitors."
Having said that, she turned away and took his arm once more, keenly aware of how the crowd had watched the entire exchange with something akin to interest and general hatred.
Snape, however, said nothing as they walked to the lifts, ready for their little appointment.
The lift, fortunately, was empty. She felt a cool drift hit her face as soon as she entered it.
He didn't look at her while they waited for their destination to arrive.
She couldn't stop looking at him. His face was unreadable. His eyes… unfathomable.
It did not seem to have affected him.
Was this what he had to go through?
Every day?
Was this how everyone looked at him.
A murderer.
Don't get her wrong, there was no love lost between the two of them but Hermione wasn't the type of person who could stand by when she saw injustice. And the manner in which that woman…
This was how people reacted to his presence.
This was the crux of his existence.
A… guilty man who walked free…
Something shattered in her own heart.
She closed her eyes, opening them only when she heard his voice.
"The little display outside was unnecessary, Miss Granger," he said quietly, not looking at her still.
"It wasn't a display. I think one should always fight for what is right," she replied in a low voice.
When would they reach their destination?
She was starting to feel queasy in her stomach.
"Fight, yes. But hope to win, no. In any case, in people's eyes, you are guilty by association," he said smoothly. "It does no good to aggravate their perception of you. You are smarter than that."
She looked at him obliquely. His face was still unreadable.
Perception of her…
What did it matter?
She did not have a chance to answer him for the gates opened and the announcer apprised them of their having reached the location.
There was an entire wing dedicated to the Ministry's infamous Marriage Law. She could see hysterical women being led out by their friends and family. The men were equally flabbergasted and seemed quite out of place. She supposed these were the people who had only just been informed of their pending nuptials.
The office to which they were finally directed was a large one. It was decorated tastefully, Hermione had to concede. As they sat silently in the waiting room, Hermione thought she felt Snape tense beside her as a bald man walked out. She looked at him curiously. He wasn't someone she knew but as soon as his eyes fell on the couple, she thought she saw his lower lip curl.
He was dressed impeccably. His blue eyes almost twinkled merrily and yet, there was something strange about him. She watched his progress as he walked to them,
"Severus," he said in a tone that expressed familiarity. "It is nice to see you here. With your… little wife, I presume."
Hermione's eyes narrowed at the word 'little'.
She certainly did not like the manner in which that man's eyes looked over her in contemplation.
"Sheridan." Severus's voice was cold was he addressed the man. Hermione was growing to dislike him with each passing moment. "I don't believe we have anything to say to each other."
At this, Sheridan let out a mirthless laughter, his eyes sliding back to Hermione's face.
He was a cunning man, she could tell.
Why was he staring at her?
"Why, I'm sure that we do, after all, Severus. Do accept my heartfelt congratulations on your wedding…. Hermione, is it?"
She was about to open her mouth when she felt Severus's arm wrap around her shoulder.
He drew her closer, possessively, as he stared at the other man with a hard, unyielding expression on his face.
That shut her up.
"It would be best if you left without another word." Severus's voice was low and in it, Hermione could sense the underlying warning.
It was strange how Slytherins confronted their opponents. They wouldn't be forthright with their thoughts. No, they bandied words and phrases with ambiguous meanings that no one could really understand.
And the looks.
The sharp sting in Severus's eye was only too perceptible but it did not seem to affect the other man very much. He, however, did take a step back when he saw Severus's hand hover over the pocket in which he kept his wand.
She wondered what kind of hostility lay between the two but wasn't allowed to contemplate much as, just then, the door opened and they were called in by another young woman.
She thought she saw the man's eyes darken as she and Severus left the room.
It was unnerving.
She eyed Thomas's hands as he rubbed the crushed flower between them. His hands glowed bright orange as she looked on.
Finally, after about two minutes of incessant rubbing, he looked up at her.
"Give me your hands." He placed his palms over hers. She felt a gentle tingle of magic in her outstretched hands and when he withdrew, she could swear she saw magical energies hover over them.
How fascinating.
"Try something now." He pointed at the small stone brick that lay in front of her. She stared at the solid lump for a while before pointing her finger to it.
"Wingardium Leviosa," she whispered quietly. She wasn't sure if it would work. It hadn't so far.
But it did.
She let out a small gasp of astonishment as the brick rose a few feet above the ground and remained static in air. She concentrated all her mental energies on moving it and once again, it bent to her will as if it were a simple thought.
She moved her fingers hither and thither and was overjoyed at the ease with which magic flowed outwards through her hands. She snapped her fingers and the brick landed twenty feet away from them with a loud thump.
"Nice, isn't it?" She heard Thomas's amused voice comment beside her. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she was grinning like an idiot.
"It's brilliant," she said. Her voice was filled with awe and she looked at her hands once more to confirm that she had indeed done it.
It was amazing.
She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. It was one of those rare moments of content.
She still had something.
Magic.
"Are you going to the dance, Hermione?"
At this, her eyes snapped open. She turned her head and looked at Thomas.
The Halloween dance.
"I suppose. Why?"
"Well... If you aren't going with someone, why don't you come with me? It would get those awful girls off my back," he answered lightly and moved his fingers in a pattern. The wing resting before him came to life and it danced to the tune of his fingers. Hermione was mesmerised.
"You know I can't do that-'' she began but he shook his head.
"Oh, come one. I hate to have Pansy pestering me all the day with stupid hints about how she would love to do abominable things with me. Then there's Daphne and Parvati and two awful girls from Ravenclaw who just won't let me eat in peace. And Lavender," he implored, whining about how the world literally worshipped his good looks.
The show off.
Although she did like the term he had crafted.
Pestering Pansy.
She wished he would formulate one for Lavender as well.
"Lavender…" Hermione mused. "You talk as if you dislike all the attention, Mr Perfect."
"You know I do."
She eyed him curiously. He wasn't lying, she knew.
"You know I can't, Thomas," she muttered and gave him a wry smile.
He stared at her.
"Why not? Because of… marriage? It's just a dance, Hermione. We'll be going as friends and moreover, you'll be rescuing me from… them."
He pouted as if the entire world's weight rested on his shoulders.
She let out an involuntary laugh.
"Yeah, right. Because you just can't stand the adoration."
"Really, Hermione. Do you even have to ask?" He chuckled at her question and grabbed her hand once more. "Oh please, please… Please…"
He began to whine again.
So unlike him.
And yet, it gave an oddly youthful air to their friendship.
"Fine." She threw up her hands and rolled her eyes. "But you had better teach me more spells today in lieu of the sacrifice I'm making for you."
He sighed and nodded.
He could be such a drama queen at times.
He was lying beside her.
He was asleep.
With the blanket covering her snugly, she should have been able to sleep. She had another option. She could leave and brave the dark corridors of the castle to reach the Tower and sleep in her dormitory.
But she was weary.
It had been a long day.
She could sense the distance between herself and him.
But the darkness wasn't dangerous. It was the light that brought forth her fears and tragedies.
Thankfully, he wouldn't be in this bed, his bed, when she woke up the next day.
He always left before she woke up.
She turned her head slightly and her eyes travelled over the dark scar that rested on his neck. It wasn't pretty.
His arm was still wrapped around her naked waist.
The unashamed touch of skin against skin was so familiar.
From her perspective beside him, she thought she could see every blemish on his skin.
A few scars, odd discolouration and memories of age.
Age.
Perhaps that was the problem.
And yet, how could it be?
She stared at the ceiling and her attention was caught by a brief, broken shimmer of something. She turned her head and looked for the source. The small bedside table had a drawer. It was open.
She reached for it but she was enclosed tightly in his arms. She bit her lip.
She should let it go.
It wasn't her place to snoop around.
But she was curious. She wriggled a bit, slowly at first, so that he would not wake up. She would have hell to explain if he caught her.
"No," he murmured. Her head snapped to his face.
His eyes were closed.
He was still fast asleep. Her eyes travelled from his face to the firm hold he had on her waist.
She had no leeway.
Suddenly, her frown turned into a small smile. She pointed her fingers towards the drawer.
"Accio," she whispered quietly, hoping it would work.
It did.
Out flew a silver bracelet and landed softly in her palm. The cold taint of the metal made her shiver.
Almost.
It was a beautiful piece. Even Hermione, with no inclination or taste for jewellery, could admire the emerald jewels embedded in it. She ran her fingers over the silver sheen and turned it over.
She could see something engraved at the back. She had to strain her eyes to see what was written therein.
The light around her was dim.
For Lily, the emerald light of her eyes, it said.
Oh.
Right.
Quickly, she banished it to the drawer she had called it from and watched it whoosh through still air. She was getting quite good at wandless magic.
She turned her head away from him and closed her eyes.
Sometimes.
The emerald light of her eyes…
Hers weren't.
Thanks to all who reviewed. I really appreciate them and sometimes they even help guide me in the requisite direction.
Keep 'em coming if you liked the chapter.
