Chapter 21
As certain dark things are to be loved.
Perhaps there is no absolution.
She ticked another sentence on the parchment, stayed still for a minute and looked out of the window.
Would there be repercussions to defiance of the law?
Obviously.
Penalties. Fines. Summons and Public Chastisement.
Prison sentences.
She scratched off another sentence in the revised essay.
But did she really care anymore?
It was painful.
She shut her eyes.
'I cannot guess what flowers lie at my feet,
But in the darkness guess each of them sweet.'
What a strange thought.
Why would she remember those dead lines from so far away…?
"Um, Hermione?"
She looked up to see Harry gazing at her with concern.
She pressed her lips into a reluctant smile.
"What?"
His eyes trailed down to her half finished essay and then the empty seat across her. As if deciding, he deposited himself into the vacant chair and leaned forward.
"What is it?"
She arched her eyebrow.
"What's what?"
He drew a long breath.
"You… You haven't spoken to me in the last three days. You've skipped classes and meals. You sit in this corner of your beloved library and pore over books but I can see that you're not really reading. There's something going on. Something's terribly wrong with you and the world around." He scanned her face. "Will you tell me? Please?"
A stormy whirl of images flashed past her… Thomas scratching the painted table… An eerie image of a corpse… The tingling sensation of fear… Her husband's pale shadow as he kissed the other woman…
She blinked.
What could she have expected, after all? For this to be a marriage of mind and heart? For him to stay true to her?
A schoolgirl's foolishness.
"Hermione?"
Harry had extended his hand and touched hers. The faint warmth of a consoling touch felt alien.
She looked at him.
And withdrew her hand.
"Harry." She looked away. "Please, I just want to be left alone."
He looked as if he would protest.
But she saw something flicker in his emerald eyes as he nodded slightly.
"In your own time then," he said.
She gave him a brief shake of affirmation and watched as he left the enclosure.
Her husband hadn't sought her in three days.
It was… painful.
She squeezed the slender quill in her hand and look out of the window.
It was raining.
Her creased face looked more worn out than ever, he thought as he sipped coffee.
"Severus," Minerva addressed. "This is not… favourable. I have reports, from all over the country… They're regrouping. It seems that we had been mistaken about his forces outside the country."
His dark eyes gazed at her concerned face silently and a vein twitched in his jaw.
"What does Kingsley say?" he asked.
Minerva bit her lip.
"He's trying… his best. There haven't been any widespread attacks, nothing that would attract attention or create fear among the general masses… Perhaps they want to catch us unawares… I don't know." She sighed. "Even we at the Order have very little to go on really… except for some sporadic incidences and this ominous shadow that looms over us… We haven't any informants, no idea of the whereabouts of these… people. And yet…"
Severus looked at the musical box lying on the mantelpiece.
He hadn't seen Hermione in three days. He wondered if she was okay. She was still in the castle, he knew. Haunting library daily…
What happened with Fiona was…
"I am tired, Minerva. I do not have energy for this… The burden of secrecy that we both carry, relating to Dumbledore's wishes, is heavy enough…"
"I know. But you and a handful of others are all I have left…"
It was strange that Minerva's sitting room had a Muggle clock. It ticked.
And ticked.
He had always hated clocks.
"I understand the need…" He closed his eyes and sighed. "But I do not wish to be a part of this anymore. I will hold my last promise to Dumbledore, as will you, but other than that… I'm afraid that I haven't the energy left."
Minerva smiled wanly.
"I see your point of view, Severus. And I respect it," she said in a steady voice. "I shall convey your answer to the Order…"
He tilted his head in assent and got up to leave.
"How's Hermione doing?"
Something melancholy stung his heart.
Strange.
"I'm sure she's well."
Minerva raised her eyebrows.
"She hasn't attended her classes. "
Severus's hold on his wand tightened as he responded curtly. "She has her reasons, I'm sure."
Minerva did not wish to let it go.
"I will take your leave now." He bowed slightly and exited the room before she could reply.
He needed to see her.
She counted the number runic faces that she had marked on the marble bench and waited a while. She was about to reach for her wand when she realised something. Exhaling sharply, she looked around and pressed the middle rune with the tip of her finger as she murmured a silent incantation unto herself.
A faint white light shot through her skin and enveloped the runic figures. She moved back a bit and closed her eyes.
She had sent Thomas a message saying that she was ready to help him.
Now all she had to do was wait for his response.
So engrossed had she been in her spell casting that she had completely missed the silent onlooker standing near the front entrance. He, however, had not missed her.
The sound of quick footsteps approaching startled her and she threw her robes over the runic pieces in a hurry.
It was him.
Her jaw tightened.
"I…" His eyes trailed down to her robes scattered over the marble bench and he looked at her face hesitantly. "I need to speak with you, Hermione."
"I don't think there's any need for us to speak," she answered.
For a moment it looked like he was deeply annoyed.
But he stifled it.
"Hermione, I…" He looked away, contemplating a fern on the ground. "It was…"
No more words were forthcoming.
"Professor." She stressed her syllables and drew up her chin. "I am tired. I am tired of all this. I don't care if the Ministry throws me into Azkaban for defiance. But I am done being your 'wife'. After what I saw in the… I know that there is no hope for us. You simply do not care for me as a husband should. And if that drives you away, then it is only natural."
Yes.
Only natural.
She swallowed stinging tears unto herself.
He stood there, unspeaking, unfeeling, as a wax statue would.
She could touch his silence.
Perhaps this was the best time of all to end it, for once and all.
What had she to lose?
"I was mad, devastated… I will not lie to you. It has only been three days after all… but then I realised, you don't love me. You cannot. I am but a girl, too young and plain and even if that weren't so… you would always love a memory." She could feel salty tears cover the lower lid of her eyes and turned away her face. "You are entitled to your choices and even though I resent that… what happened three days ago, I don't think I have a right to judge you or demand answers. We were forced into this union."
A brief drift stung her face and she was forced to look down.
He stood right there, a few feet away from her and looked on, silently.
"Hermione…"
Her name.
It sounded beautiful on his lips.
She thought she saw something flicker in her coal black eyes but it was gone the next moment.
"You're mistaken." He scanned her face awhile before turning to the marble bench. He sat on the other edge, her robe filing up the vast expanse between them, and leaned back.
It was so painful.
Mother, I am in pain and I cannot help it.
"What are these?" He picked up one the many runic pieces she had used to contact Thomas.
"Runes."
Her mind was foggy. She did not want to let him know… and yet… She was so tired.
"So I see." He removed her robe from the rest of the marble bench and gathered all the pieces in his hands. "What were you doing with them, if I might ask?"
"Studying," she said automatically.
Again, lingering in the deep blackness of his obsidian eyes, she felt lost.
He did not believe her.
For a moment, she almost forgot her sadness.
He spread them on the bench and made a quick motion with his fingers.
A bright golden glow suffused them.
"To whom were you speaking, Hermione? Why the need to use runes?"
And I have loved him.
"It doesn't concern you."
She got up to leave, she had no reason to stay really… she had said all that she wanted to, there was nothing left.
But he caught her hand and pulled her back.
"Answer me," he said, a silent threat lingering on the edge of his tongue.
She felt revolted.
"Why? Why must I answer you? I have made it pretty clear that you have no claim to me anymore. You are free to pursue any woman you desire and I ask no questions of you regarding the incident three nights ago. I am no longer your wife. And even if I was, you would have no right to demand answers of me!" She jerked away from him and stormed off, fuming.
He didn't follow.
He did, however, arrange the runes into a specific pattern and cast a silent spell over them to recreate her message.
His frown deepened as he read the text.
Thomas.
Doing something was the key, she reflected.
She did not want to die, of course. But compared to her existence in the present, death would be a respite.
The Room of Requirement turned into a blue room, something almost similar to her favourite aunt's living room.
Strange.
She had not been thinking about this particular room at all.
She hadn't the time to contemplate any further for just then, the door creaked open and he entered.
Thomas.
"Can I call you Tom?"
He leaned against the closed door, amusement shining in his grey eyes as he tilted his head in affirmation.
"I take it that you have decided to help me, after all," he said quietly. "In a manner that does not involve taking my life."
"Did I really have a choice?"
"No."
She exhaled deeply and sat down on the nearest chair.
She tapped her fingers on the table and looked at him.
"How do I know that you weren't lying?"
He watched her silently, intently, before he went down to sit on the couched located near the only window in the room.
"You don't. But can you, can any of you really afford to take the chance?"
She mused over his words, all the while very much alive to the fact that it would be treacherous.
"The best bet is to kill you now, before this gets out of hand. Both the sides want you dead, in one way or another. You really have no one."
"And yet, the very fact that I am still alive… that you haven't told anyone of this tells me that you will not harm me anymore…"
He sounded so sure, so very confident that just for the heck of it, she would have liked to throttle him.
"That could change, you know," she warned.
"And why should it when I intend no harm to anyone… I only wish to preserve my life."
And gain Voldemort's powers while doing so, she added in her head.
"Why shouldn't we just tell the Order… they would know about the whereabouts of this corpse if it indeed exists in this castle… it would be so much easier."
Thomas… Tom… frowned.
"No. I don't believe they would."
"Well, someone must have taken care of it… they must… know."
"I expect nothing short of an Unbreakable vow, Hermione… to conceal the whereabouts… No, I don't think there are easy answers to this problem."
Hermione looked at him curiously. He seemed a bit sad.
"Why can't we tell anyone else? Others will be affected too and there are people more capable than me in handling this… who would be really good at this. Why am I the only one? Harry, Ron, Neville… they're all involved."
"They would never trust me," Tom replied. "No, listen to me Hermione. Secrecy and speed are of paramount importance. There is no time to lose. Not anymore."
He looked outside the window and frowned once again.
Hermione thought.
Again and again.
There was this strange sort of… numbness, what with all the events…
Resolve crept into her, like slow poison.
"Fine. Let's do it."
She stood up and walked over to him.
"Do you have a plan?"
He nodded.
Severus parted the heavy fabric of his office's window curtains and looked out. The opening was enchanted to look as if the room was above ground.
Minerva was right.
He needed to get out there and figure out what was happening.
It might be too late otherwise.
And Hermione… She had sent a message to Thomas. The boy had never returned for the next term… There was something really strange about him.
He had to speak to her again. This was not going well. But he had little to no leverage over her. Not after his own actions…
A brief knock on the door brought him out of his musings.
A visibly agitated Minerva entered, apparently panting from her long walk down to the dungeons.
"We are unable to contact the Ministry, Severus. None of us knows what to do."
Beads of sweat lined her wrinkled face as she collapsed into the nearest chair.
"I don't understand, Minerva."
"The Floo network's been blocked for some reasons. The owls would not venture beyond the boundaries of Hogwarts grounds. All our methods have failed. I cannot contact the Order members."
"Patronus? Scrying?" he asked.
"None."
A shadow settled over his heart… it was as distinct as the one he had experienced on the Halloween night 18 years ago…
"The wards?" he questioned her again.
"Intact. But they won't hold on for very long, we both know that. The ancient measures of protection were shattered in the last battle. We have only those that we put up after the war."
Severus squeezed his eyes shut.
Why was there no absolution for him?
"When was the last time you contacted anyone outside the castle?" he enquired again.
Minerva pressed her lips.
"It was in the morning. Severus, I fear the worst…"
Severus's jaw hardened.
"And so should you." He clenched his fists. "We cannot leave the castle. The first thing to do is to ensure the students' safety."
Minerva nodded and stood up with lines of resolve forming in her old face.
"I am getting rather old for these challenges."
Severus gave her a brief nod. "As am I, Minerva. We will take them down to the hidden chambers that we had ensured would be added to the castle when it was rebuilt. It should not take more than an hour. Let the older eighth year students remain in the Great Hall. We will need to hold a consultation an hour from now. I will make sure that students from my house reach the chambers. You must inform the other heads of houses."
Minerva left immediately, her tartan robes swirling behind her in urgency. She still had lots of strength, he would give her that.
He had very little time.
And with no inkling of what was to follow, he felt trapped.
He had to hurry but before he did anything else, he had to see Hermione.
He assumed that Minerva was still briefing the teachers on the situation at hand. It had only been ten minutes since she left his office, after all.
He felt sick as he walked up the well traversed path to the Gryffindor Tower.
Neville Longbottom was just leaving the Portrait.
"Mr Longbottom," he called. "Is Hermione inside?"
Neville looked confused for a moment but he answered.
"No. I don't think she's inside. Maybe at the library."
Without a word, he turned and walked down to the library with quick footsteps.
Where was she?
The library was empty and for some reason, he knew she wasn't there.
Where could she be?
Fifteen more minutes had passed as he ran to an fro across the most likely places he could have found her.
She seemed to have vanished.
Fear settled in the pit of his stomach.
He couldn't lose her.
"Severus."
It was Fiona.
She seemed breathless.
And worried.
He did not have time for this.
"Severus, I… What is happening?"
She had moved closer by now. He could notice hazy tears forming around the corner of her eyes.
She was weak.
"Fiona, I believe that the Headmistress has informed you of the circumstances we find ourselves in. There is no more to be said. You need to make sure that the students are safe and return to the Great Hall in half an hour."
He made to leave but she caught her hand.
"I want to go with you."
Carefully, but not too harshly, he disentangled his hand from hers.
"I have my own affairs to take care of, Fiona. I must go alone."
He was worried.
Hermione was nowhere to be found.
"But…" she protested.
He shook his head and took off in the opposite direction.
He had to take care of his students first.
And then, find his wife.
God forbid that any harm should come to her.
Hello again. Guys, I am really really sorry for the delay.
Again, I feel like I am losing touch. tell me if u want me to stop and discontinue the story.