As always, thank you all for your lovely reviews! I am the worst at responding to everyone personally, but I always read all of them. They totally make my day, especially when I'm laughing at work for no reason. And I have to say, I think "Snapple" is my new favorite nickname for Snape!
He was suddenly transported to 20 years in the past, sitting his N.E.W.T exams. There was a paper in front of him, and a quill in his hand, and he knew a question had been asked, but he wasn't quite sure what the answer was. Theoretically, the discussion being open-ended and presumably there wasn't a right answer, but was certain there was definitely a wrong answer and he was pretty sure his answer was it.
His silence seemed answer enough. He watched her deflate, shoulders dropping a moment as she chewed her lip again, "Right. Okay"
He blinked, "I didn't..."
She lifted a hand at him, "You don't... You don't have to say. Its alright. No one just completely gives up their life view in a week"
He huffed in irritation, "Stop saying it's alright"
She froze, turning a narrowed gaze on him, "And what exactly should I say, Bast? It's deplorable that you can stand here talking to me, and generally having a pleasant conversation with one breath and in the next be thinking about killing me? Because in spite of everything I've done, and said, and tried to change... There's still you. And people like you. Who actually believe I stole my magic, and don't belong here. Who think your world would be better off if I was dead than from a background you haven't even tried to understand. It's NOT alright, but bugger all if I can figure out how to change your mind"
He frowned at her, "At least that's being honest about how you feel"
She gave a bark of laughter before sneering at him, "Ah, yes. Because that's what you are. A beacon of truth in an otherwise darkened world"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't want you dead"
She glared at him, "Well, that makes it all better, then"
"I just don't know how you fit into this world. Or if you even do," he admitted, "And I spent the last three quarters of my life learning that you don't"
"Oh, I'd be willing to believe you've spent the entirety of your life learning that I don't belong here," she replied bitterly, stalking back out of her room. He followed her closely, just barely catching the door to the office before it closed on him.
"Granger, everyone I considered a friend growing up was a Death Eater," he explained, closing the door behind himself and locking it, "It's familiar. Its comfortable. It was as close to home as this place was"
She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging them tight above her hips, face closed off once more, "All I hear is how homicide makes more sense to you than accepting diversity into your homeland"
He shook his head harshly, "It wasn't always like that"
"But it ended up like that. And you didn't try to leave. You just...stayed. And you would go back, given the chance," she countered, brushing a hand under her left eye.
He let out a breath, "I wouldn't...not to kill. I would go back to be with the people I knew. To enjoy the conversations, and the camaraderie"
"The murder, the rape, the destruction..." she mocked, and he felt impatience surge up inside of him, cresting over his confusion and anxiety.
"Like you're so much better," he snapped back, "You talk about us like we're antiquated, archaic, inconvenient. We spent generations creating this world, and protecting it, and you walk in and want to change it. Make it something we don't even recognize as our own anymore"
"I'm not trying to take anything!" she exploded, "I'm just trying to fucking survive! I have nowhere else left to go, Bast. The wizarding world IS my world. This is it. This is all I have. All I want is to carve out a little place to live, and request a little dignity while I'm at it. I don't think that's so much to ask for"
"And where are you carving that little place to live? Right now, you're living in an ancient house on ancient lands that don't belong to you, playing Lady of the Manor to a group that you had to literally imprison to get to live here," he sneered in return.
They glared at each other coldly, him with fists at his sides, her with chin tilted up, eyes blazing a bright amber color at him. The silence between them drew out, and he gritted his jaws together angrily at her stubbornness. Finally, he watched her take in a deep breath, letting it out through her nose.
"I need to find that child, Rabastan. And I intend on bringing him back here," she said, voice carefully controlled.
"I think that is something we both agree on," he conceded.
"I need you to come with me to help me identify his family, but I also need to know you won't turn against me at the first sight of a Dark Mark," she admitted. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Family comes first, Granger. I promise you I'll help you find the child and bring him back here"
She nodded, "After that, the choice is yours. You can return to being a Death Eater if you want. Just know I'll turn you over to the Aurors the second I know you're back with them"
"I wouldn't expect anything different," he answered evenly. She nodded briskly again.
"Well, if we're going to do this, we're going to need help," she said, turning back to the desk, grabbing a spare piece of parchment and scribbling a note onto it. Walking to the window, she cracked it open and whistled. A smoke colored Great Owl swooped into the room, circling around once before landing on the back of her chair. She smiled at it gently, rubbing her fingers down it's chest.
"Hello Orion," she cooed at it gently, the bird ducking it's head down to rub against the back of her hand. She gently tied the scroll to it's leg, giving it a treat off her desk before ushering it back out the window.
Sealing the aperture closed again, she turned back to Rabastan, "There are two people I trust not to spill my secrets"
"Let me guess, Potter and Ron?" he returned with a bored tone. She grinned at him, lips curling deviously.
"No. They're wonderful, and we have secrets we'll take to the grave, but if I want those two gossips to keep something quiet they require a wand oath. No, the first I just sent an owl to. The second is where we're going next," she replied, crossing the room to grab a jacket off the coat hanger in the corner. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"And how do you propose we get there without anyone seeing us leave?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Are you a wizard or not?"
Rabastan sighed, "I am, but I have it on good authority I would not be able to apparate anywhere on these grounds"
She chuckled, "That is true. There is, however, a perfectly good fireplace right here"
He turned to look at the low burned coals, and then back at her, "I thought the only floo connected fireplaces were in the receiving room"
"Well..." she hedged as she tucked the two pictures into her pocket, "The only LEGALLY connected fireplaces are in the receiving room. This one may or may not be connected to another place"
"And I thought you Gryffindors were all about following the rules," he answered dryly. She laughed at him, genuine amusement crossing her face.
"Am I the first Gryffindor you've ever talked to? Because I'm pretty sure the whole lot of us are excellent at finding reasons why we should break rules," laughter dying down, but amused look remaining, she beckoned him over, grabbing his hand in her own, "I'll take you with me"
They stepped out on the other side into an over-crowded storage room, stacked high on each side with boxes. It was dark, and cool, with dim light filtering through dust particles that hung in the air. She sneezed once next to him, waving her hand in front of her face to clear them away. Not releasing his hand, she tugged him behind her to the front of the room, and out into a just as crowded shop.
The shelves were lined high with brightly colored products, and the noise of children, parents and loud toys filled the air, making an overwhelming cacophony. He watched her flinch a little at the sound, but she wound expertly through the aisles, bringing him to the register where she dropped his hand. A young, blonde, frazzled appearing woman stood behind the till, receipts in one hand and product in the other.
"Afternoon, Verity," Hermione greeted her warily. The woman spared her a short glare, before pointing wordlessly at the staircase behind them. The brunette nodded briefly, before turning back to Rabastan and jerking her head in the direction the assistant had pointed.
The stairs spiraled upwards, leading them from the barely controlled chaos of the shop below into to an expansive flat. As soon as they crossed the threshold into the living space, all sounds from below ceased, and Rabastan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"George?" called out Hermione, walking across the entryway towards the kitchen. Rabastan lingered at the doorway, uncomfortable in the unknown dwelling.
A head of red hair popped out from a hallway just beyond the kitchen, "Hermione?"
She smiled at him, reaching out to hug him as he stepped more fully into the living space. Rabastan noted he was shorter than Ron, and leaner, but shared the trademark Weasley coloring. As he pulled away from the younger woman and turned towards Rabastan, wide grin on his face, Rabastan's eyes were drawn to the left side of his head where there was only a scar where an ear should have been.
"George Weasley," came the succinct greeting. Rabastan took his hand, shaking it firmly, before introducing himself as well, "So, what brings you two to my humble empire?"
"We need your help and your discretion," came Hermione's answer, and the redhead favored her with an intrigued look.
"Hermione Granger needs help and discretion. My day just got decidedly more interesting," he answered, excitement evident in his voice, glancing over his right shoulder as if looking for someone. The was half a pause before he turned back to Hermione, smile a touch dimmer, "How can I help?"
Hermione pulled the two photographs out of her pocket, turning them over to George, before pulling out one of the letters as well, "These arrived in the post today. No return address, no signature"
The red head frowned slightly as he looked down at the pictures. Lifting the one of the boy up he waved it, "Is this...?"
"We don't know," she answered honestly, "But we need to find out"
"Do you think...?" he asked thoughtfully, and Hermione shook her head.
"Honestly, it could be either," she finished his thought for him. Rabastan raised an eyebrow at their conversation, clearing his throat to remind them of his presence. Hermione blushed for a moment, giving him a mildly embarrassed grin.
"George and I lived together briefly after the war," she replied in explanation, "You know, between poverty and having more money than one person could ever hope to spend"
"So, what exactly do you need from me?" asked George, eyes lifting back up to Hermione's face. She sighed, running a hand through her hair before pulling the two pieces of parchment out of her pocket and handing them over as well.
"I need to know where the letters came from. I know you were doing some locator charm work not too long ago, including tracing items back to where they'd last come from. I was hoping you might be able to do the same on the papers"
He nodded, "It's some prototype charms, but I can see if it brings up any answers. If it was owl post, it might take a day or two to trace back, though"
She nodded in return, "That's fine. The sooner the better, but we don't need to leave immediately"
"Anything else?" he asked, and she grinned at him mischievously.
"Well, I was thinking it would be best if we traveled the muggle way to start with," she answered. George's returning grin was so wide Rabastan was certain it was going to crack his jaw.
"Oh, really? That should be great fun," he answered, walking across the room to grab a contraption off the coffee table.
"Mmmm," she answered, nodding her head, "I suspect it will be a complete delight. I do, however, need your particular, expertise in securing the appropriate documents"
"Consider it done," answered George, waving her over towards a blank wall.
"How soon do you think you can have them back?" she asked before she smiled at him. The apparatus flashed, and she stepped away, beckoning Rabastan forward, "Muggle camera. We need your picture"
He nodded silently, taking the place she'd stood only moments before. The bright light blinded him, and George glanced down at the camera before nodding, "Should only take two or three days to get them together and test them"
"Test them?" asked Rabastan. George looked up, flashing him with another brief smile.
"Well, muggles are very particular when it comes to their identifications. Wouldn't do any good if I made them and they couldn't pass snuff, would it?" he responded airily before sharing a conspiratorial smile with Hermione. She reached over and patted his shoulder.
"Obviously, this needs to stay quiet," she said. The smile fell off his face, and he nodded, expression serious for the first time since he'd entered the room.
"You keep yourself safe, Hermione. No running off on some half cocked plan to save the world," he replied. She nodded solemnly.
"I promise"
George turned to look at Rabastan, eyes narrowing, "I'll hold you responsible if anything happens to her"
Rabastan raised his hands in front of his body, sardonic tone, "As I understand it, you would be standing in a line to murder me"
George laughed again, "Well, I'm pretty certain Roddy would be at the head of it"
"Or Antonin," Rabastan mumbled in response. In spite of missing an ear, the red head cocked his head and nodded sharply at the reply.
"Oh, excellent. More archaic threats implying I'm incapable of caring for myself," came Hermione's waspish reply from behind them. George shrugged and smiled at her again.
"A lot of people care about you. You're just going to have to accept it"
She sighed irritably before reaching over to hug him again, "A lot of people care about you, too, you know?"
He nodded mutely into her shoulder before releasing her, "I'll send word when I'm done"
"Thanks George," she answered, before turning back towards Rabastan, "Let's go meet our next little friend"
He followed her back down through the chaos, and through the floo into her office. As they exited on the other side, she paused to brush the soot from her clothes. A throat from across the room caused them both to freeze, looking up at the intruder.
"And exactly how long have you had an unregistered floo in your office, Hermione?"