They ate in silence. His sense of smell returned over the course of the meal, and by the time he took his last bite everything tasted right again. She cleared the table with a flick of her wand, then checked on the baby. He was just wondering if he would be left to sit in the kitchen by himself all day when she returned and put the kettle on.
"I suppose you're wondering what happened."
He looked at her, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he said, "Yes."
"What do you remember?"
"I remember Flooing from the Leaky to Rosmerta's."
"They were waiting for you at the Three Broomsticks. Death Eaters."
"I assume they weren't there for a chat," he said dryly, rubbing his bald head. There was a bit of downy stubble, like five o'clock shadow on his scalp.
"They'd decided you were a traitor. When you fought back, it convinced those that had been waiting and watching."
"So I'm out."
"You're out."
His first feeling was relief, but it was quickly followed by dread. If he was out, if he was no longer a spy, he was no longer useful. He would have to run. If he returned to Hogwarts, the children of Death Eaters would be used to kill him; if he didn't return to Hogwarts, there was no place that he could hide that the Dark Lord wouldn't track him to.
When Granger touched his head, he jolted so hard that he almost fell out of the chair. She put her other hand on his shoulder, though, and it was the work of a moment to have his head down between his knees. The panic faded with the urge to vomit.
"A section of Hogsmeade was torn apart by the fight that followed. Madam Rosmerta and others from the village came to your defense. All three of the Malfoys are in Azkaban, and a few others but mostly the Death Eaters escaped."
"Why aren't we at the castle? Why aren't we at Spinner's End?"
"They're watching for you at Spinner's End. I checked it—the wards are still intact," she said. He scowled down at his feet even though she wouldn't see it; he didn't like that she'd been able to check (let alone known that he would ask about) his house. He didn't like that he was thankful to her for checking on his house. "And we're trying to keep a low profile, so going to the castle would be a bad idea."
"Why a low profile? I'm a dead man anyway."
"No, you're not," she said, and the sharp conviction in her voice would've surprised him if she hadn't been making a habit of popping into his office to talk at him randomly over the last few years. "Voldemort is dead."
He waited for the burning pain that flared from his Mark whenever somebody used his name. It didn't come.
Severus yanked back his sleeve, not believing that he hadn't noticed it. Yet there it was. His forearm. He hadn't noticed the unblemished skin before because his elbow had been in such awful condition that it distracted him, but there it was. The Dark Mark was gone.
"It's gone," he said. He hadn't meant to say it aloud. She rubbed a gentle circle on his back with the hand he hadn't realized she'd left there, and then moved away before he could shake her off. It was quite obnoxious that she knew him so well.
"With the Mark gone, it's all but impossible to prove beyond a doubt who was a Death Eater and who was not. The Ministry—Dumbledore as Head Mugwump, at least—wants you hidden away to serve as a reputable witness when they finally capture them. They want them in Azkaban legitimately. Permanently."
"How did the Dar—Voldemort die? How did Potter…?"
"We were in Diagon Alley. Once the fight started in Hogsmeade, Death Eaters attacked there too. Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at Harry, but it knocked them both to the ground. We dragged Harry back into Fred and George's shop. He was out for not even five minutes, and then he fought his way past Mrs. Weasley back to the street. Voldemort had been surrounded by Death Eaters, but he did the same thing and they met out in front of Ollivander's."
"And?"
"And Harry did what he always does. He tried to disarm the guy who was trying to kill him."
"Ah, the great and powerful Harry Potter," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"He's still unconscious," Granger said, frowning at him.
"Again, the great and powerful. A Killing Curse on anybody else would have them dead."
"It didn't actually hit him," she said, exasperated.
"Whose baby is it?" he asked, changing the subject.
"The baby's name is Grace. She's Professor McGonagall's niece's daughter."
"And you are caring for her because…"
"Because she's an orphan. Her parents were in the pub when the Death Eaters attacked you, and when they came to your defense they were killed."
More debts he could never repay.
