Chapter 21: Penultimate Steps
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Mrs. Weasley was rather taken aback by Hermione's supreme indifference to her lecture. The truth of the matter was, since before the mayhem at Malfoy Manor, Hermione had had almost no sleep at all. She'd had a lie-down in Madam Pomfrey's room for about half an hour, and another in Snape's rooms for even less (she didn't even count the hours she spent shivering on the hard stone floor of the Weasley's phantom shop) so she hadn't really had any rest since they'd got the news Luna had been taken, three days before. In fact, those brief almost naps made her more exhausted.
And a lot had happened in those three days.
Hermione was indescribably fatigued, still aching from hours of torture, despite Madame Pomfrey's care, and emotionally drained in every way it was possible to be.
She put up a trembling hand to stop Molly's speech, which surprisingly worked. She opened her mouth to speak, even as her eyes closed from fatigue. Taking in the sight of everything around her was too much a strain. She swayed on her feet as the words she had been about to say abandoned her, as did her ability to stand upright, apparently. Her eyes flew open as her legs wobbled, tried to lock, and eventually gave way all together as the floor rushed up to greet her.
She was prevented from that painful acquaintance by the quick action of Ron's father. Nice catch, she thought, still unable to get any words out.
"Steady there," he said soothingly. Vision blurring nauseatingly, Hermione let her eyes flutter closed yet again. Her body, rather than going limp, seized up in a fresh agonizing assault.
"Molly, quick!" said Arthur. "She's convulsing!"
The spasms lasted only half a minute, if that, before she slumped boneless into Mr. Weasley's arms. She was relieved to find that they were already on the floor, so there wasn't far to fall, but was mildly sorry that Mr. Weasley's suit now seemed to be spattered with vomit.
"I just need to take the rest of my potions," she said quietly to him. "And sleep." Merlin, but did she need to sleep. She wouldn't even mind making that patch of floor her bed, and Mr. Weasley her sick-scented pillow. The glass phial in her pocket pressed into her thigh, and she thought of Snape's advice. It wouldn't cure the side-effects of the Cruciatus, but it would help. And the Salubrity Solution should aid the internal healing, which was a process that would continue for the next 12 hours, according to Madam Pomfrey.
They wouldn't even let her walk after that, and so levitated her upstairs. She didn't bother telling them that she'd climbed innumerable stairs on the trek from the Hospital Wing to the Headmaster's office with no such assistance. There was no point in making things harder for herself than they needed to be.
They tried to take her to the room she always stayed in with Ginny, but she refused to enter it, insisting that she be taken to the boys. Hermione was surprised to see how easily the Weasleys capitulated. Ron and Harry were asleep, and didn't wake when their two beds were pressed together, and Hermione placed between them.
"Thank you," she told Molly and Arthur, Molly looking close to tears. Hermione reached into her pocket, weakly withdrew the potion, quaffed it in one, and felt the effects almost instantly as a wonderful warm numbness began to creep over her. Ron snorted and moved closer to her unconsciously, spooning her from behind, and Harry turned on his side and curled in slightly, his bent knees now touching hers and his messy hair combining forces with her own wild mane as their foreheads almost made contact. Still clutching Snape's phial against her chest, Hermione finally and quite contentedly surrendered to sleep.
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SS
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The Carrows were avoiding him; that made him uneasy. It wasn't that he missed the horrible siblings, but the fact that they were going out of their way to hide something did not bode well. They likely didn't know he could do Legilimency, but all the same, in the few times they were in each other's company, they wouldn't meet his eye. Amycus had come to him in his office whilst Granger had been there, but Severus hadn't managed to gather much, only that he was concealing something.
However tempting it was to simply order them into his office and force Legilimency on them, it would, alas, reveal his abilities to the Dark Lord the next time he dove into the Carrows' minds, if the siblings didn't tell him directly what Severus had done.
Was their secret something the Dark Lord had ordered them keep from Severus, or was it perhaps something they hoped to keep from the Dark Lord?
Severus left his office. He hadn't bothered to remove the blindfold and deafening charm that Granger had put on the portraits, much to the paintings' dismay. Still, he couldn't linger there. He had to do something. He had coined a message to Granger two hours ago, and she'd yet to respond. He forced himself to think logically. If she had taken the potion he'd given her, she'd be unconscious for several hours.
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HG
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"Oi, Hermione!" the twins greeted.
She smiled genuinely back. "Hello, boys. You don't happen to have a burn salve, do you?"
Hermione had been alone when she awoke ten hours later, a blistering pain burning against her chest. First thing she had done was to remove the necklace that held the silver sickle, but the coin had been unwilling to be separated from her now enflamed flesh, bubbled with pus which caused it to stick. Clearly, it had been burning for some time before she woke.
"You don't create your own line of fireworks without a healthy supply of burn salve," said George, grinning broadly.
"Anything else you need?" asked Fred, waving his wand over her in a manner not unlike Madam Pomfrey.
She prodded her midsection with a finger. It seemed that her insides had stopped squirming in reparation. They had, however, begun squirming with a far more normal pain.
"Food," she replied. The small meal Snape had given her had come up when she had first arrived. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten before that.
"Coming right up. Mum's cooked up a storm for Harry and Ron. No doubt she'll be overjoyed to feed you too."
"I'll pop back to the shop and get that salve," said Fred. "I'll even throw in an 'Eat My Hat' hat, gratis."
Harry and Ron appeared a minute later, bringing food, and sat down on either side of her, looking guilty, relieved, and concerned all at once.
"You should have told us you were that bad off," Ron mumbled in the direction of his feet.
"Mrs. Weasley told us what happened," explained Harry.
Yes, Hermione suspected that she might. "The potion needed tending. That's the most important thing right now. Besides, I didn't know myself how serious it was. Not at the time. But I did go to Madam Pomfrey first thing." Not entirely true, but close enough. Hermione suspected that it was sheer adrenaline and stupidity that had kept her from collapsing.
"Well, she must not have done a thorough job," Ron pointed out.
Hermione shied away from admitting that she'd left before the Healing Matron could finish her treatment. Not it would have made much of a difference as far as the tremors were concerned. Those would just wear off in time. Hopefully.
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Hermione remained in bed for the better part of a week. Fred and George were frequent visitors and made surprisingly fine nursemaids. They were adept at diagnoses and competent with healing charms and potions, and their bedside manner was refreshing. They never did anything to upset her or make things worse, but they always did their best to get her to smile. She appreciated it.
Ron and Harry, however, were her near constant companions. She and the boys closeted themselves away in their room for their private conclave and made plan after plan, contingencies for their contingencies.
They'd lost the sword at Malfoy Manor, so Nagini would have to be killed another way or the sword would have to be retrieved. None of them, however, were eager to return to the place to get it. It was only a short time before she would have to take Harry's blood and add it to the potion, then it was only a matter of killing Voldemort and his familiar…
"I don't imagine it would be that difficult to go face-to-face with Voldemort," said Harry, musing bitterly. "Just walk down the street and the Snatchers will get me. But what about Nagini?"
It was the same problem they had discussed several times before.
"Harry," Ron began. "What do you reckon would happen if You-Know-Who knew his Horcruxes were destroyed? And that Nagini was the last?"
Harry snorted. "He probably wouldn't let her out of his sight."
Realising what he just said, he turned to Hermione and Ron, eyebrows so high it looked as if they were trying to hide in his messy fringe. "Do you think… that could actually work?" he asked disbelievingly. "Just somehow let him know the other Horcruxes are gone?"
"Perhaps, but what if he simply locks Nagini up somewhere impossibly protected? Then what would we do? We'd have made things even worse for ourselves," Hermione pointed out.
As if idly playing with her wand while deep in thought, Hermione let the tip rest on the sickle she had secretly removed from her pocket (she couldn't, for the moment, keep it around her neck while the burn was still healing).
Nagini?
She didn't look to see if she got it right, just sent the message, nor did she feel an answering warmth until a few hours later.
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SS
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Severus was striding down the corridor that evening, his mind in several places at once. Potter. Horcruxes. Granger. The Dark Lord. Nagini. The Carrows. His students. They all seemed to swirl together after a time, each piece impossible to extricate from the other, forming one impossible problem.
He was tempted to take a page out of Granger's book and Obliviate the Carrows after ransacking their minds for the information he wanted. The Dark Lord would be able to tell that a memory charm had been used, but it couldn't be traced back to him. But the Dark Lord would surely assume it...
He had been walking along the passage, cursing softly at his predicament, predicaments, rather, when just in front of him, where the corridor he traversed intersected with another, came Ginevra Weasley at a run, rounding the corner towards him.
When she saw him, she didn't freeze, like most rule breakers caught out after curfew. Instead, she immediately raised her wand, which was already out and ready, and put her back to the wall, poised to defend herself. Severus would have been some species of proud of her reaction had he not been so furious that she would do something so imbecilic in the first place.
His nostrils flared, his pulse quickened, and the blood pounded loud and hot through his body.
"What are you doing?" he hissed. "Do you want to end up like Amberly? Is that why you do this? You have some kind of death wish like your precious Potter?"
The girl's jaw tightened, he could see the muscle working not to speak. Keeping his wand on her, he glanced around.
"Where is the other? You Gryffindors always travel in packs," he snarled.
Still, the girl didn't speak.
A quick Hominem Revelio turned up nothing; the girl truly was on her own. Of all the stupid... She ought to have known better. Didn't Potter and Granger teach the redhead anything? Or perhaps the girl was just a decoy, and the real mischief was elsewhere.
He narrowed his eyes at her, as did she, though she wouldn't look directly at him. She glared at a spot just above his head, unwilling to make eye contact.
Taking points from Gryffindor had become an obsolete punishment, as they were already below zero. Any infraction, minor or severe, immediately merited castigation.
"Detention," he growled. "Since you seem so determined to leave this world, perhaps you ought to go to the Carrows. They'd be more than happy to oblige, as they did with your now dead classmate. And the youngest child, only daughter of the most prolific family of blood-traitors would be quite a prize." Here he let his voice go smoother, more taunting, "Let alone Harry Potter's own girlfriend." Her eyes went wide, clearly thinking that no one knew. And no one did, save himself. If the Carrows or the Dark Lord knew what the youngest Weasley meant to Potter, they would have taken her away long ago.
"Perhaps we can use you to lure the boy back here, hmm?"
"He won't come! He's cleverer than that!" she blurted, then glared again for him having goaded her into speech.
"No..." he continued in that condescending drawl. "He's not. Else he would not have gone after Lovegood..."
This was also news to her, it seemed. Perhaps now it had sunk in that it was her fault. The information she had provided had put Potter in an extremely dangerous situation.
The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly began to prickle, giving him only seconds' warning. Severus disarmed her, Silenced her, and Disillusioned the girl with three slashes of his wand, just before Alecto came round the same corner as Weasley had, looking harried. He hoped the foolish redhead had at least the sense enough to stay still, else she would be seen, Disillusionment spell or no. If Alecto discovered her now, Weasley would be lost forever, of that Severus was certain, and he didn't want any more deaths on his conscience.
"Alecto," he greeted in a dangerous purr. She clearly wasn't expecting to happen upon him, and fruitlessly tried to appear composed. If he hadn't already known she was up to something, this certainly would have clued him in. "Out for a late-night stroll?" As he spoke, he surreptitiously pocketed Weasley's wand and inched his way casually to the girl so that his voluminous robes hid her.
"Or were you perhaps looking for something in particular?" he offered. It had been a stab in the dark, but her expression, like that of a naked woman who has just realised she is not in fact alone, proved his supposition to be true.
He itched to know what she may have lost, but he couldn't risk baiting her further, not now with Weasley right there. Was she looking for something on behalf of the Dark Lord, and perhaps approaching a deadline for finding it? That would explain the search and her stressed appearance. Perhaps the Dark Lord suspected his Horcruxes were no longer where they ought to be and had told her to locate them.
Surely not.
With such an important task, the Dark Lord would surely want a more competent seeker, a person with complete access to the castle. Unless, of course, he doubted Severus' loyalty still...
Severus found he didn't really care anymore. So long as Nagini was killed and Potter got his potion, the truth of his allegiance hardly mattered. There really wasn't anything he could do anymore. He'd ask Granger later if there was anything left he was yet needed for. Else he might just go ahead and let himself be caught.
The sound of the frightened breathing reminded him that a duty still remained, the students. He had to keep them out of the Carrows' clutches. As he was doing now.
He waved a dismissive hand toward Alecto. "Don't let me impede your search," he said, only then considering the possibility that she was looking for Miss Weasley.
Alecto cautiously took her leave, but rather than continue in the way she had clearly been travelling, she chose to back step around the corner, not turning her back until she was out of sight, no doubt. He heard the sound of her footsteps, hastily retreating.
After a minute of just standing there in silence, making certain that Carrow was long gone, he set off.
"Keep to the wall and follow me," he ordered in a harsh whisper. He was aware that Alecto's arrival had rather undermined his carefully crafted taunts. Since he had obviously protected the girl from Carrow, the threat of giving her over to the woman fell a trifle flat.
Walking swiftly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, Severus noticed Weasley didn't even make an attempt to silently slink away from him, indicating that she trusted him to some degree.
At the portrait of the Fat Lady, he handed the girl back her wand. He would let her take off the Disillusionment spell herself once she was safely inside. Her eyes were confused, wary, and even the tiniest bit hopeful.
"I can't have you thinking well of me," he told her with an earnest sigh. Dumbledore wouldn't want that. Unlike Granger, Ginevra would never be able to keep her silence from anyone, especially Potter.
"Obliviate!"
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HG
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"Does it have to be forcibly taken?" asked Harry, doing his best to keep his voice and face free from signs of apprehension. Hermione knew better, of course, knew that Harry could hardly help remembering the last time someone had taken his blood for the sake of a potion. She knew that this must be difficult for him, for all he tried to act otherwise.
"No," she replied gently with a smile. "Freely given will work just as well." She hoped. Harry heaved a sigh of relief and held out his arm.
Hermione was touched at the expression of trust on his face as he looked at her. She looked down at the transfigured knife in her hand, then back to Harry.
Holding it out to him, she asked, "Would you like to do it yourself? That way you'd have complete control." Completely opposite from the last time.
He nodded shakily and took the proffered knife, bringing the steel to the soft pale skin of his wrist.
Holding the blade tightly with a white-knuckled grip, he took a steadying inhalation through his nose, his jaw clenched as tightly as his fist. He let out the breath as he let out his blood, which after a brief moment started to flow steadily.
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Got blood, his sickle read.
Merlin, the hour was almost upon them. Only Nagini stood in the way of Potter facing the Dark Lord for the last time. For it certainly would be the last time, no matter who came out victorious. It would end, one way or another.
No, his mind corrected. It ends for you one way or another. For everyone else, it would be the beginning; either of a new age without Voldemort or of the Dark Lord's complete reign.
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HG
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Flooing to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmeade was impossible, Fred told her.
"But I used the Floo in your shop to get here!" protested Hermione. She needed to get to Hogwarts, and exiting the fireplace from their shop would be the quickest and easiest way.
"And where is the shop?" asked Fred.
"In Hogsmeade, which is where I want to… oh."
He nodded.
"What's the address in Birmingham, then?" she asked, with surprising patience.
Smiling, he replied, "Veal Convention Services, 8th Avenue North."
She repeated it quietly to herself, not bothering to question the odd direction. "And how do I get out at Hogsmeade instead of Diagon alley?" Or, Merlin forbid, some grungy industrial street in a non-magic industrial area.
"George is there now, he'll get you through, nooo problem," he assured her.
"Thanks, Fred. I mean it. You've been…" He and his brother had been a number of things to her that past week, yet she found herself oddly reluctant to verbally admit to her feelings lately.
Like Snape, she thought. It was the sort of thing the Headmaster would do, not her. Since she'd actually witnessed that display of emotions in his office, it made her realise how masked he really was. Perhaps it was her ridiculous and nonsensical attempt to balance things, especially now that things were about to spin wildly out of control. She didn't need her own emotional reactions adding to the pandemonium. That, at least, was the one thing she could do her best to control. Snape had taught her that.
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Just as Fred had said, George facilitated her exit into the correct place from their shop that afternoon. As she had the Cloak and map, she felt confident in using both of them and the secret passages to get her to the potion unseen, despite it being broad daylight.
It was really a matter of waiting. Biding her time here, until so-and-so passed, stopping there until the coast was clear. She kept her face mostly glued to the Marauders' Map, only looking up to keep an eye out for ghosts, who didn't appear on the parchment.
She could have easily avoided the dread siblings Carrow, walking rather slowly on the map by themselves, but some prompt of curiosity urged her to… well… spy. She couldn't help wanting to observe them unawares, on the off-chance she'd discover something, anything, of interest.
It was a very Harry thing to do and she knew it, but follow them she did. And very glad she was to have made that decision.
Brother and sister were snarling at one another when Hermione stole upon them. Neither Death Eater walked easily, Hermione instantly noted, which explained their unusually ponderous progress across the Map.
"Longbottom," said Alecto. "I'm sure he knows where Amberly is hiding."
Hermione's eyebrows rose. Absalom Amberly, hiding? But both Ginny and Luna, even Snape, had said he had died. The Carrows had killed him.
Amycus' sneer was eloquently condescending. "How do you imagine getting him to tell you of the boy's hideout? You couldn't even get anything out of Amberly, and you know Longbottom is stronger. Your Crucios will do no more good on him than it did his parents. You've really bollixed things up this ti—Agh!" he suddenly winced in pain. Throwing a spiteful glance at his sister, he grumbled. "You've made things worse by lying that the boy was dead, rather than escaped. And you've no way of finding out what the Dark Lord wants."
"Verituserum," Alecto suggested.
"If you are willing to explain to Snape why you want him to brew some, be my guest."
"Snape," Alecto hissed with evident bitterness, then turned her evil eye on her brother. "You are the Potions Master now, Amycus. You make it."
He snorted at the possibility. Hermione, who had been unfortunate enough to have the man briefly as a Potions teacher, knew very well that he didn't have the skill for such a complex brew.
Hermione didn't dare follow after and simply let them pass. The last thing she heard clearly was Amycus insisting, "If you don't find him, Alecto…"
Absalom. Alive. And the siblings obviously quarrelling about it. Oh, but this was wonderful news! She had to tell Snape, let him know, ease that guilt that was painfully prevalent during their last meeting.
She hurried to the Headmaster's office.
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"You again," he said unenthusiastically upon seeing her. Actually, 'unenthusiastic' was too polite a word. He seemed outright disgusted. Hermione stopped, stunned, as he stood in the middle of his office glaring down at her.
'Again?' Hermione thought, more than slightly stung. Their last encounter he'd seemed so concerned, almost caring. Now he seemed irritated by her (clearly unwelcome) presence. Oh, buck up, Granger, he's never been a sweetheart, she chided herself.
Hermione reasoned her own questionably tender feelings were making her more sensitive to his usual harshness. But that didn't matter now anyway; she had something important to tell him.
"Absalom escaped. The Carrows didn't kill him. They're lying to cover up that they let him get away. They're hoping to recapture him before the Dark Lord finds out."
He looked at her as if she were speaking Mermish. "What are you babbling on about? You already told me this morning," he said frowning at her, but he softened ever so slightly. "Luckily," he added. "Else I'd have had to answer the Dark Lord's summons empty-handed."
Summons? There was a Death Eater meeting?
And what did he mean, this morning? She'd just arrived at the castle that afternoon. Not only that, but she'd only found out about Absalom herself moments before, how could she have told him any earlier?
She doubted someone Polyjuiced as her had come in to give him the exact same information, which left only one option…
"Oh. Right. Silly me. And, erm…. What time did I drop by this morning?" she asked as if casually.
"Drop by?" he said incredulously, a dangerous intensity in his tone. "Drop by? You say it as if it were a quick visit instead of loitering about in my room all day and then running out without a word of explanation!"
All day in his room? Well, she'd obviously have had to hole up somewhere so she wouldn't run into herself, she supposed.
What was even more obvious was that she'd done something to seriously displease him. "I'm sorry. I really am, but I…" Realising that she couldn't make an excuse for an offence she wasn't aware of having done, she carried on as soothingly as she could. "I need you to answer the question. What time this morning?"
Arms crossed, he glowered at her for a moment before replying. "You woke me about a quarter to six." His voice was deceptively calm and so very cold. Some species of resentment, she suspected, but couldn't be certain.
She glanced at her watch. "Right, then." She approached the desk, searching for something in particular. A quarter to six would mean she'd have to go eleven hours back. She found it, but it was different than the Time-Turner she'd used before. Still, she would figure it out; Snape had already claimed she arrived at that time so she must have done, must do, it correctly. Resolute, she looked back up at him. "See you in a bit. It's time for your wake-up call."
She had just enough time to see his confusion fade to understanding then to a look of sudden wide-eyed fear such as she'd never seen on his face before. He threw out an arm as if to try and stop her and cried, "Wait!" just as she felt the odd yet familiar sensation of going back in time.
Hermione landed at 5:45 quietly. The office was darkened and the portraits were sleeping beneath their blindfolds. She tiptoed to his bedroom, knowing that if she'd survived to 'loiter for hours in his rooms', he couldn't have murdered her for startling him awake. Still, she didn't want to take any chances.
She spied him on the bed, sheets twisted about his legs as if he'd been trying to run away in his dreams. He wore a horrid gray nightshirt, and his wand was in his hand. She would have to get that away from him before she woke him, else she was in for a painful time of it.
Softly as she could, she approached him. He twitched a bit, but he continued sleeping. When she got close enough, she thought she'd gently pull his wand from his hand, but saw, to her dismay, that he had it clenched tightly in his fist.
Grimacing, she made a snatch for it, ripping it out of his grip, which woke him immediately.
He was on her in a second, tackling her to the floor and doing his best to strangle her to death.
"Lu—lu—lumos!" she choked out, trying to provide enough light so that he could see whom he was trying to murder.
It worked.
Sort of.
His immediate reaction was to loosen his hold about her neck, but a moment later, he snarled, tightening again.
"What did Hermione Granger have with her when I found her in the forest after curfew?"
"Night… blooming…." she croaked, coughed, and tried again. "Toadstool."
This time he did loosen his grip. Let go of her neck entirely, actually. The furious expression remained, however.
"What do you think you are doing?" he raged. "I might have killed you."
"S'why I took your wand," she replied, still gasping for breath and rather hoping this would be the last time he tried to choke the life from her. She remembered all too well the time in Myrtle's bathroom when he had tried to convince he was a true Death Eater by strangling her. "Knew it would… take a bit more time to… do it the Muggle way... Hoped you'd realise… before you got the job done." Voicing these two simple sentences had been a painful struggle. She felt extremely light-headed.
He pushed off her angrily and stomped to the other side of the room. Frustrated, he combed his fingers through his hair.
"You hoped I'd realise before I killed you. Of all the…"
He seemed too furious to finish the thought.
She had known he wouldn't kill her, else the future Snape would have been astounded to see a dead woman walk into his rooms that afternoon instead of simply saying 'you again."
Realising that as he might be summoned at any minute, she needed to tell him as soon as possible, Hermione pushed back the blackness that tried to tunnel round her vision and said, "It's the Carrows. They let him escape. I know you said they killed Absalom, but actually they got careless and let him get away." Ouch. Her throat burned. She felt like she needed water, but shuddered at the thought of having to swallow anything. "They are hoping to find him again before the Dark Lord finds out."
Hermione realised at this dizzied moment that the scene she'd witnessed between the Carrows had actually been after their meeting that morning, perhaps that angry tirade had been a result of Snape tattling on them to Voldemort, and their injured state the results of their master's displeasure.
"How do you know this." It wasn't a question. It was a demand for information.
"I heard them under the Cloak," she croaked, painfully trying to draw in air. "Arguing… whose fault it was… he got away…"
Hermione was thwarted in her attempt to explain more by her body inconveniently choosing that moment to pass out.
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When Hermione awoke later, she wasn't on the floor but the Headmaster's bed. She didn't know where he was or if he'd returned from the meeting yet, but judging by the clock on the nightstand, she still had eight hours before her future self would go back in time. Unable to come up with a better way to pass the hours, she went back to sleep.
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Snape was trying to kill her again.
Desperately, she tried to fight off the hands that clamped around her neck, but she couldn't. She was gasping for air, pleading with him to stop. She tried to light her wand so he could see her face…
Hermione was shaken awake from her nightmare.
Her eyes opened and she blinked at him a few times before she realised that a.) He had come back from his meeting and b.) He wasn't trying to kill her after all. 'Of course he isn't," she reproached herself.
"Sorry. Bad dream," she explained, a trifle embarrassed, not looking him in the eye. It wouldn't do to tell the man that he'd featured prominently in her nightmare.
"It was only bruise salve," he said stiffly, putting a jar of paste down on the nightstand. Now that she was more alert, she noticed that his fingers were covered in blue goo. What was more, she could feel the stuff starting to cool on her neck.
She sat up, taking the jar. "I'll do the rest," she stated.
His cheek ticked in strain. "Of course," he bit out, either uncomfortable that he'd been caught red-handed (or blue-fingered, rather) trying to help her, or because he assumed that she didn't want him touching her after what he'd done to her that morning. Which, she had to admit, was sort of true.
But whatever the case, it was clear that he'd gathered well enough what she'd been dreaming about. She felt like she should apologise, but didn't. It wasn't as though she could control what she dreamt.
Trying to change the subject, she almost asked, 'how was the meeting?' before realising that technically she shouldn't even know he'd been summoned, as she'd passed out before he left.
Time trickled by in unbearably awkward silence.
She couldn't stand it any longer. She had to say something.
"I'm sorry!" she burst out.
"You are apologising?" he asked, surprised.
They both knew that really he should be apologising, but he seemed to struggle with the word 'sorry' and she honestly hadn't really expected or needed an apology from him. He'd reacted just as she imagined he would.
"I… I'm sorry for waking you up," she said. "I suppose I could have gone about it better…"
He grunted.
Still at a loss as to how to bridge the gap, she asked tentatively, "Would you mind helping me with this?" She held up the bruise salve. "I don't know if I can do it after all."
It was very weak as far as excuses went, and clearly a lie, but he didn't call her on it. Instead, he took it as it was meant and nodded silently, accepting her peace offering in the form of the jar of salve.
She reached around to hold her wild mane back as best she could. She watched as two fingers of his right hand dipped into the jar, then closed her eyes so as to sidestep the awkward business of trying to avoid his by looking around elsewhere. She was afraid that if he looked into her eyes, she'd give something away. She wasn't entirely sure herself what she felt, but she knew that it was best kept hidden.
Ever so gently, he began to smooth the salve into her skin. She relaxed, trying to focus on the feeling of the glutinous substance and ignore completely the movement of his fingers. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but she could do nothing about her heart, which was banging away like a drum in her chest as if treacherously trying to get his attention, when that was the last thing she wanted.
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SS
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He could feel her rapid pulse in her neck as he applied the salve. She was putting up a brave front, once again trying to spare his feelings by not offending him, but he knew how much he frightened her. Understandable, after he'd nearly killed her that morning. Now she was going to face her fear just to prove to him that she trusted him.
He got the message, loud and clear, and was humbly grateful and yet at the same time repulsed. He should have just let her do it herself, as she clearly was uncomfortable.
"You don't have to be afraid," he told her.
"I'm not," she replied instantly, though her voice was shaky and breathless.
He shook his head. Gryffindors. Never would admit to fear even when the proof of it was beating a steady tattoo against his fingertips.
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HG
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"What time is it?" she asked once the massage had stopped, and she could no longer feel his breath on her face. She needed to be out of there by the time her other self came rushing in to tell him the now old news.
Snape removed his pocket watch and reported the time, but not before giving the open timepiece a brief but appreciative stroke with his thumb. It was clearly a sort of ritual, as the gesture came easily to him, and appeared to give him some comfort. It was the closest thing to affectionate she'd ever seen him be. Perhaps the watch held some sentimental value for him, like Harry's did. It was tradition, was it not, for a wizard to be given a pocket watch when he came of age?
"Four thirty four," he reported curtly.
She thought curiously that although it seemed she hadn't contacted Harry and Ron for hours, in actuality she, in another part of the castle, was using her galleon that very minute to send them a message.
But she didn't have time to muse about this, as she needed to hurry and get out before she ran into herself. It would be cutting things close, though. No wonder Snape had simply said, "You again," when she entered his office that afternoon. She would have only just left. She hastily stood and looked around for her accoutrements for stealth.
She found the Cloak and snatched it up, ready to fling it over herself the moment she found the map. Except it didn't seem to be anywhere. Frowning with impatience, she started her search again, and was about to get on her hands and knees to see if it might have accidently found its way under a bed or desk, when she eyed her erstwhile Potions teacher with suspicion.
"Give it back," she said, holding out her hand.
He raised an impertinent eyebrow, and had the audacity to say, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"I can't navigate the castle during the day without it." She began tapping her foot impatiently and gave him her best 'Head Girl' look, for all that he'd ruthlessly stripped her of that title and position when he'd become Headmaster. "I need it to check on the potion," she added pointedly.
He snorted bitterly, and pulled the desired parchment from the pocket of his robes and grudgingly handed it back to her, but not before several moments' hesitation. She snatched it from him and heaved a sigh of relief.
If he cared to give it a glance, he would probably see two Hermione Grangers at large in the castle. In fact, it was some wonder that she hadn't noticed that herself when she'd first arrived. Granted, she'd been focussed on negotiating her way through the castle to the potion (which she hadn't even reached), but she had quickly sought Snape, and found him in his office. She wondered now what she would have done had she bothered to check the nearby bedroom on the map only to find herself.
Well, it didn't matter now anyway. Presently, the most important thing was to leave before there was two of her in the same place at the same time. He might very well get suspicious and kill one of her for being an imposter. She thought briefly of explaining the situation to him, but not only did she not have time for an adequate explanation, but she needed him to react exactly as he had, unsuspicious in giving her the time she'd need to go back to.
She winced, remembering his look of horrified comprehension when she'd used the odd Time-Turner. He'd known at that moment that she was going back to wake him up to give him the news, and that he would nearly kill her in the process.
No wonder he'd tried to stop her.
Oh well, too late for that now. It had all already happened, and she wasn't going to change it.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," she intoned.
As the ink began to spread, she hastily searched for herself, locating her other position to determine how much time she had left.
Hermione swore aloud (one of Ron's ruder words) as she saw that she was already on her way up.
Snape looked at her oddly and craned his neck to try to see what on the map had distressed her, but she hastily folded it up.
"I have to go!" she cried, and messily donned the cloak and dashed out of the room, out of the office altogether, down the revolving staircase and into the deserted corridor.
She made it just in time. Hidden by invisibility, she pressed herself against the wall, reopened the map, and held her breath as she watched (and heard) herself dash by and ascend the spiral staircase.
Hermione followed her double, waiting outside the Headmaster's door until she saw her name disappear. Meanwhile, she pressed her ear against the door to listen.
"You again," she heard his stiff muffled greeting through the wood.
"Absalom escaped. The Carrows didn't kill him. They're lying to cover up that they let him get away. They're hoping to recapture him before the Dark Lord finds out."
"What are you babbling on about? You already told me this morning." A pause, and more quietly, he almost reluctantly added, "Luckily, else I'd have had to answer the Dark Lord's summons empty-handed."
"Oh. Right. Silly me. And, erm…. What time did I drop by this morning?"
"Drop by? Drop by? You say it as if it were a quick visit instead of loitering about in my room all day and then running out without a word of explanation!"
Ah. That's why he had seemed so cross with her.
"I'm sorry. I really am, but I… I need you to answer the question. What time this morning?"
Bitterly, he replied, "You woke me about a quarter to six."
"Right then. See you in a bit. It's time for your wake-up call."
Hermione slipped in to see her other self disappear into the past as Snape looked on in impotent dismay.
Hermione felt horribly guilty for all she'd put him through that day.
She pulled off the Cloak. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd gone back in time until you told me just now."
It occurred to her rather belatedly that it might be a bit of a shock to see her again so immediately after she'd vanished in time.
He simply looked at her and groaned, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are very trying on the nerves, Miss Granger."
Trying to make light of things, she remarked, "Well, it wouldn't be the first time I'd gone back in time and spent nearly a whole day in your office." Looking back, it was the most absurd of coincidences.
He snorted, but his eyes remained closed. Hermione thought that might have been almost a snort of amusement if he hadn't looked so exhausted.
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SS
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"Why was Absalom taken in the first place?" she asked quietly.
Severus sat down, altogether undone by the bizarre day the girl had foisted upon him. A day that couldn't end soon enough. It was only after he'd given her an explanation that he realised he'd even been talking.
"Before today, I thought he had been just another unfortunate student to receive detention. It wasn't until this morning that I learned the Carrows were trying to use the boy to get information on the father."
The girl frowned perplexedly. "Why didn't they just ask you?"
"The task was given to them, not to me." He added after a moment, "And they do not know I can do Legilimency."
"The Gryffindors all know you can," she admitted guiltily. Severus was well aware that the first thing Granger had done after Dumbledore's death was to tell her house mates not to meet his eye.
Unable to do it any other way, the Carrows had been forced to attempt to torture it out of Amberly.
"I thought it a detention gone bad; that they had been excessive in their duress and killed him, but, as you pointed out to me, the boy had managed to escape, probably through the help of some classmates." Here he gave her a pointed look. "The Carrows had been so ashamed and afraid that they had concealed the whole business by claiming the boy died."
"Wouldn't that be worse?" Granger asked. "Losing something permanently rather than perhaps just temporarily?"
"Death under torture is something the Dark Lord understands," he explained easily, for all as if this were an informal lecture. "The Carrows had been forgiven, especially since they'd put forth that they'd done their best and found that the boy didn't seem to know anything in any case. He was of no use, so his death was immaterial." Of course, rather than tell the Dark Lord themselves, they'd had Severus relay the message, so that their master wouldn't look in their minds and find their story was untrue. Except thanks to the girl sitting across from him, the lie was uncovered.
"Poor planning, they found," he concluded. Severus couldn't help but grin, perhaps a bit vindictively, at the hated pair's punishment, but quickly wiped it away when he saw the girl was watching him. She saw this and smirked in kind.
"I can assure you, I don't have any great sympathy for the Carrows. What goes around, comes around, they say." Her expression held a triumphant spite that matched his own. Yes, the girl had every reason to despise the Carrows, and had suffered greatly; not only at the end of Alecto's wand.
He himself was looking forward to quite a few people getting their comeuppance. Wormtail topping the list). He took another glance at the hard determined lines of Granger's face and added Bellatrix as a close second.
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Severus had accepted her invitation to join her in adding the blood; the final step to the potion.
It was a smooth addition, no steaming or bubbling or, Merlin forbid, an explosion of any kind. The entire brew glowed slightly as Granger stirred in the blood, and it settled finally, changing colour to a muddy crimson.
Granger stared at it for a time, seemingly dazed. "I can't believe that's it." She exhaled, but it was far too quick to be a sigh. It was almost as if someone had dealt her a blow to the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.
Blinking rapidly, she added, looking up at him, "Thank you, sir. I really don't know what I would have done without your help."
He didn't know how to reply to this, so he didn't.
"Are you going to bottle that?" he asked rather brusquely.
This snapped her out of whatever reverie she'd been lost in. "Yes, of course."
She'd come prepared and had brought a large phial for the purpose. Before she ladled the potion into it, Severus snatched it from her hand and tapped it with his wand to add an Unbreakable Charm on the glass, so it wouldn't be lost by accidentally getting smashed in a bag or pocket, only to find that the charm was already firmly in place.
The girl smiled up at him as he handed it back. "When you carry around as much as I do in a bag, you put Unbreakable Charms on everything. Started doing that in first year after an ink bottle ruined an essay for Transfiguration and a library book. Madam Pince was not pleased…"
The grimace proved that the memory was still a painful one.
The moment she corked the bottle had a sense of finality to it, and they were both silent for a time.
"I guess… this is it then," she said uncertainly. Severus noted that she would not look directly at him, making him wonder if she were hiding things from him yet, even at this late stage. He was just about to reach out and force her to meet his eye when something stopped him.
She'd proven to be a trustworthy ally; he didn't need to force anything from her. Granger had always come to him with unwavering honesty about everything. If she didn't share it, it was because she didn't need to.
This secret, whatever it may be, was hers to keep.
He nodded respectfully. "If there is anything else I can do, you know how to reach me."
The sickle which he'd stuck into the upper portion of his pocket watch went everywhere with him.
"There is one thing you might do if you think you can do it safely." She repeated, just to be sure, "If."
"What is that?"
"The Sword of Gryffindor. We took it to Malfoy's in case we had the opportunity of killing Nagini."
"It's still there," he enquired, though it came out more of a statement.
"I'm not sure where it might be moved to, but we left it there, yes. If you can't, it's all right. The only other Horcruxes are living, so we can use the killing curse."
Severus was not at all deceived by the matter-of-fact tone of voice, the off-hand suggestion of using an Unforgivable. Putting aside the fact that one of the Horcruxes resided in her best friend, the thought of her casting the killing curse held as little appeal to him as it obviously did her, even if it was just a snake.
Though Severus doubted anyone could consider Nagini just a snake…