Song for this chapter: Derniรจre Danse by Indila
SPOV
To say I was surprised to be owled by Albus Dumbledore again after the entire potions position debacle would be an understatement. Yet on the first day of being fully open at the apothecary an owl with a letter bearing his crest did in fact appear. I had just opened the shop for the day so business hadn't picked up yet so I stood behind the counter staring at the letter long after the owl had departed. Why would he be writing me now?
I could hear Hermione puttering about in the back of the shop and I considered calling her out to have her with me when I read the letter but I thought better of it. There was a chance that the letter would be inflammatory and I did not want to add stress to her if I didn't have to. I took a deep breath and told myself to stop assuming the end of the world was always coming as I broke the wax seal on the back and pulled the letter out of the crisp envelope it was sealed in.
Severus Snape,
I don't imagine you're terribly keen on seeing an owl from me so soon, but I hope you will at least consider meeting me for a drink and a bit of discussion at the Hogs Head today at noon. It will be much to short a time to send a second letter, so I shall simply wait at the pub until one and if I have not seen you I will have my answer.
Albus Dumbledore
"Who sent you mail?" Hermione asked distractedly as she carried a box of finished Wolfsbane potion in single doses out to stock on the shelf to hopefully be sold today.
"Dumbledore," I grumbled as I set the letter aside and focused my attention on her.
"What does he want?" she asked and though her face did not betray her worry I heard the slight tightening of her voice that gave her away.
"Apparently he would like to speak with me over drinks at lunch time," I explained. "He did not give me any more information. He likely wanted my curiosity to overpower my frustration with him."
She remained quiet for a long time. First she remained focused on stocking the potion to the shelf, but then she turned to look at me and traced her finger thoughtfully over her lip while she quietly thought about what I had said. I could see many different scenarios flitting through her mind as her eyes tracked what I could not see. Eventually she simply shrugged and crossed over to stand beside me at the counter and lean her head on my shoulder.
"Will you go?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I am curious. But then again I am also suspicious and irritated."
"It's likely he wants something from you," she said with a nod. "But that puts you in a position of power, and he'd have trouble trying to manipulate you. I don't suppose it could hurt to hear him out."
"I suppose you are right," I sighed, but then our first customer entered the shop with a gentle tinkle of a bell and the conversation was over.
And so a short bit later I found myself walking into a dingy pub that I admittedly found I felt out of place in wearing my tightly buttoned black clothing with a silken cravat. I had taken pains to craft an image of stone, but I hadn't considered what a less than savory place we would be meeting in. I stood out. I shook such thoughts from my head and approached the table in the back corner where I could see Dumbledore sitting. He stood out as well, but for different reasons with his flamboyant purple robes.
"You came," he said as I took the chair opposite him. "I admit I thought I'd spend an hour here by myself being stared at by my dear brother and then I would return to the castle."
"I came," I replied somewhat sharply. "What is it you want?"
"Ah yes, you are still irritated with me," he said without losing any of the twinkle in his gaze. "I thought you might be. Rightly so of course. Firstly I would like to ask your forgiveness. I made a rash decision after we last spoke."
I remained silent. I'd rather he grow uncomfortable and continue than admit that I wanted to hear more.
"You see, I was a bit startled to see Hermione with you when you came for your interview," he went on after a bit. "I shouldn't have been of course, but it is difficult for me to forget that she is a necromancer. I immediately began to worry over her influence over you and decided on the spot to deny you the position that you were applying for. It was an unintelligent choice and I apologize for that."
"I don't see what would have changed your mind now," I said stiffly. "It isn't as if you have suddenly learned that someone removed all of her memories of necromancy."
"No, you are right. Of course I know about that as I did the spell work myself," he said with a tight smile. "I of course immediately regretted being as rash as I was, but it took some time for me to swallow my pride and admit I needed to ask you if you would still consider the position."
"Ah, so you've not had any other applicants," I said quietly, an evil smirk trying to tug at the corner of my mouth. "And I imagine the school board is breathing down your neck about filling it in the short time you have left before term starts."
"Yes," he admitted after a pause, and finally a bit of the twinkle in his eye was extinguished by his irritation with me. "So tell me will you consider it, or shall I tell them I will be teaching the classes while we scour the continent for someone else that is qualified and still interested in teaching."
"I will think about it," I said. "If and only if you answer some of my questions."
"Of course," he said a little too quickly, revealing just how badly he needed me in this position.
"Why on earth did you remove as many memories from Hermione as you did?" I snapped. "Do you have any idea the damage you wrought, and the work it took to restore her to her former self? Or even to that of semi-sentient?"
"I only took what I thought was necessary," he hedged.
"Why did you think it necessary to take everything?" I shot back immediately.
"I didn't take everything," he said and he looked honestly confused but I didn't believe it.
"Don't play stupid with me," I grumbled. "You were in her presence after you did what you did. You saw how she was. It took ages to get her beyond simply being an empty vessel, and even then it was only the beginning. It was just a bit ago that she uncovered the last of her memories."
"All of them?" he asked, and his eyes constricted slightly in fear.
"Everything but the necromancy," I corrected. "She has no interest in uncovering those memories so I am sure whatever spell you cast will hold. But she wanted the others back so we fought for them. I cannot fathom why you would take her childhood, her parents, her friends, her past, all of it but me. Why?"
"I wasn't sure what was dangerous," he said carefully. "You seemed the only subject that I could trust would not send her straight back to necromancy."
"You are truly an idiot if that was your actual thought process," I hissed quietly. "If there were one piece of her past that is intrinsically linked with necromancy it's me. She delved into the art for me. She didn't even realize what she was until I told her."
He seemed shocked to hear that and sat back in his chair seeing me in a new light. I could see his mind turning, wondering if I was one as well. I could almost read his thoughts trying to gauge the possibility of so many necromancers living at once when they were so rare. I was angry with him but I opted to put his mind at ease just a bit.
"I of course only knew what she was because of how deeply I have delved into the studies of the dark arts. If I hadn't read the Munich Manual already I would have had no idea." I said quietly. "Not like you. I can't recognize a necromancer from experience because I am not one. That is someone that only you will ever share with Hermione."
"What?" he gasped, and I had to hand it to him, it was almost believable.
"Don't play coy with me," I groused. "You named a spell that you could only name if you had absorbed the contents of that book rather than reading them. Like my wife. You recognized the markings of a necromancer where others would only see a grave robber because you could feel kindred magic pooling in the earth near your home. You know what she is because you see yourself in her spell work."
"You've gotten it all wrong," he said quietly. "I suppose I can see how you've become so confused, but I must correct you none-the-less. I am not a necromancer."
He held his hands up when I went to argue with him, and I fell silent even though I'd like to shout to the high heavens about his lying.
"You misunderstand because there is a piece of my past that is not common knowledge," he went on softly. "Everyone knows of course that I defeated Grindewald all those years ago, but only a few know that it was painful because he was also my lover. Even fewer, measured only by himself and myself, know that our relationship was tainted with the darkness of his magic. His necromancy. I knew the name of that spell because he spoke of it to me. He told me of it like he told me of many others. I know what I know about necromancy not from reading a book, but from seeing it performed by a man that I fancied and hearing him rhapsodize about it."
I wasn't sure anymore if he was lying. He seemed to be entirely honest, and though his face had look honest before while he was lying there was something about this that wrung true. It was possible that it only had that ring because he had loved the man and not because he was a necromancer but I couldn't be sure. I was at a loss for words.
"Do you have more questions for me," he asked when I did not speak.
"If I take this position will you allow my wife to live with me?" I asked.
"None of the faculty spouses live in the castle," he said with a shake of the head. "However she would be allowed access to visit you when you are not on duty, and you would be permitted to leave up to three nights a week to be with her in your own home."
"I will need to speak with her before I make any decision," I said quietly as I stood from the table. "I will send you an owl by the end of the week."
"I hope you will not hold my knowledge against me Severus," he said quietly, stalling me from turning to leave. "I admittedly have a soft spot for bad boys, and it got me into quite a lot of trouble with Gellert all those years ago, but I do not believe that makes me a dark wizard."
"Nor does the use of ancient magic to save the wizarding world make Hermione a dark witch," I seethed as I folded my arms tightly over my chest. "The sooner you admit that the sooner I will consider forgiving you for the harm you have done."
"You didn't really say that to him did you?" Hermione asked lazy as she lay back against me in the bath.
"I did," I said lowly, not wanting to disturb her lassitude when she seemed so close to sleep despite the water we sat in. "I do not regret it."
"I imagine he regrets the position he is in having to cater to you to fill his staff," she mumbled as she tucked her head under my chin and sighed.
I reached forward to brush some of the bubbles that had gathered on her chest away as it looked like she was going to breath them in at any moment. She hummed her approval when my fingers grazed her collarbone and I was amused by how much she reminded me of a kitten in that moment.
"This is talk for another time," I whispered as I leaned my head back against the back of the tub and let my eyes drift closed.
"Mhm," she hummed and the two of us silently enjoyed the quiet warmth of our shared bubble bath.
