A/N: As always, your alerts, favs, and feedback on this story are so deeply appreciated. Thank you immensely for your encouragement and interest.
I'm thinking this story will wind up being roughly 30-32 chapters in total before we're (finally!) done. After such a long haul, it's nice to have an exit in sight.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox and own none of her associated characters. No money, just fun.
Chapter 25: Inevitability
Severus had turned the cramped, drab Parisian flat upside down, only to put everything back into place with an exasperated flick of his wand after twenty minutes or so. His search efforts had turned up nothing, which wasn't exactly an automatic motive for alarm. There was comfort to be had in knowing Hermione didn't regularly leave a trail behind her that might lead unwanted intruders to discover another one of their hideouts. She and the rest of them had plenty of enemies to contend with, after all.
In this case, however, Severus needed to locate her whereabouts and, having searched her flat extensively to no avail, he knew he would be riding this adrenaline rush to the bitter end. If it was the last thing he did on this godforsaken earth, he would find Hermione.
She'll turn up, he tried to reason with his heightening paranoia as each excruciating minute passed. She has to.
Then again, if Hermione had already been snatched by the enemy, there would be no telling what level of heinous activity her abductors might be doing to her at that very moment. The harrowing thought sickened Severus to the point of nausea. He quickly staggered to keep upright in the centre of Hermione's bedroom, wishing away the severe punch to the gut that had hit him out of nowhere, and pressed on.
Having recently ascertained inside information that their underground safe haven was now a target of the Dark Lord's, Severus decided that that would be the last location he searched on a short list of probable places he might find her. Second to Hermione's and Miss Lovegood's flat was the safe house—the cause's last pit stop before London—and, as far as anyone was aware, including Severus, no one aside from their own knew of that highly classified location.
Hopefully, that would still prove to be the case.
In his pounding, nerve-wracked heart, Severus wanted to believe that he would enter the safe house soon to discover Hermione safe and unharmed, if not a tad shook up, but the pain twisting his insides into knots suggested otherwise. Your instincts can be wrong, you know, he reminded himself during these fits of uncertainty. He exited Hermione's flat, his heavy Glamour still in place as he proceeded down the nearest empty Parisian street, his worried mind running a mile a minute.
Severus would have ran himself—he wanted to Disapparate right then and there—but, with the city now crawling with Death Eaters, even after the attack on their hideout by the Bulgarians, Severus couldn't afford to perform magic so close to the enemy.
Thus, he walked, his stride brisk and wide, and made his way towards the nearest underground platform, Hermione his (hopefully) final destination.
Hang on, Hermione. Please... Wherever you are, hang on. I'm coming.
"And you're certain she was headed here?"
Unfazed by the intense interrogation she had fallen under, Luna merely offered a slow nod of acknowledgement. "Yes, sir. That's correct."
"How many followed?"
"At least a dozen or so. There was no time to count numbers, I'm afraid. It was rather chaotic, you see; lots of spells being cast and people screaming and what have you..."
"How is it that you're here and she's not?"
Luna didn't react to that unreasonable line of questioning. Instead, she cocked her head sideways and, to Severus's growing distemper, made a considerate study of him before returning an answer.
"I'm not sure, sir. Perhaps they've been delayed—"
"Miss Lovegood, did it not cross any of your minds to go back out and search for her?"
"Sir, I need to attend to those here that have fallen under my care—"
"Be that as it may, one of your own is missing," Severus cut in, staring down his hooked nose at the dazed-looking witch.
"With all due respect," Luna returned in an unaffected, collected tone, "it's not just Hermione who's missing at the moment, sir. There are many others out there as well."
"I'm fully aware of the fact, Miss Lovegood."
"Well, I know you care for her a great deal, so I just wanted to—"
"I'm not interested in your commentary, Miss Lovegood." Severus made a point of rounding his shoulders. "I'm trying to ascertain the facts."
"Certainly, sir. My apologies."
With a burdensome sigh, Severus rubbed his forehead and replied, "I shall go back out and search for her myself, though I'm at a bit of a loss as to where to even begin."
Aggravated to the point of hurling a curse, Severus stepped away from the corner where he had cross-examined Luna, though she hardly seemed affected by the wizard's frustration with the situation. She stepped forward as Severus tersely turned his back to leave, hands clenched at his sides. The swarm of Muggle-borns crowding the small sitting area stepped aside for the frightening, long-nosed man like the parting of the Red Sea, forming a clear path for him to stomp through.
"Sir?" Luna called after Severus before he had reached the entrance; he immediately turned on his heel, his impatience apparent by his tense stance. "Might I suggest you stay the remainder of the night and resume your search efforts in the morning? The sun will be up in a matter of hours, and you've been searching all night as it is—"
"No," came Severus's biting reply; appraising the tense atmosphere the room had suddenly fallen under, he lessened the severity of his tone by adding a formal "thank you," though he hardly deemed it necessary.
Many wide-eyed stares watched Severus Snape press past them, his grim gaze fixed on his ultimate aim. Each was aware of who the controversial, dark figure was in their midst and seemed rather intent not to get in his way.
An unexpected uproar from those closest to the entrance brought Severus's exit to a halt, however. Several people screamed and leapt back to make room for a herd of witches and wizards who unexpectedly surged upon the scene, flying through the entrance to the safe house panting and gasping and some crying out for help. For a few nail-biting seconds, there was mass chaos, with people stumbling and tripping over one another to duck out of the way.
Severus had withdrawn his wand from beneath his sleeve but, within seconds, discerned that they had nothing to fear. Thankfully, the flock of intruders weren't any of the Dark Lord's cronies but their own. He held his breath and scanned multitudes of faces for any glimpse of recognisable curly hair and large, brown eyes.
Not catching sight of Hermione, Severus inched closer to the entrance, pushing those who weren't aware of being in his path out of his way as he cut to the front. There, he was unnerved to still not have spotted Hermione amongst them.
"Where's Hermione Granger?" he demanded, jaw clenched and sharp eyes catching a considerably tall, handsome young wizard directly in front of him.
The Frenchman—Armand—was hunched over and trying to catch his breath, eyes fluttering wildly about his surroundings. He peered up when Severus addressed him, however, and eyed the man strangely, at first, puzzled by the inquiry. He glanced behind him a moment and, when his and Severus's eyes met a second time, his expression had morphed into one of dread.
"She - She was right behind me," he choked out, the complexion draining from his stunned face.
That was all Severus needed to hear. He tore past the younger wizard blocking his way, demanding that everyone "stay put", and hurdled through the magical opening without a second's hesitation more, landing on the other side and completely unaware of what might await him.
Severus stepped into a darkened woodlands on the outskirts of the French countryside, his wand raised and prepared to strike. His senses were prickling with trepidation as he surveyed the area around him for any signs of unrest; but, the place was quiet as could be. Eerily so.
Evidently, no one was lurking about—or so it seemed—so Severus chanced lighting his wand. He waited another few seconds, half expecting someone to leap from behind a bush or a nearby tree to whirl a curse at him, though, to his good fortune, no such duelling erupted.
After concluding that he was, in fact, alone, Severus gave the woodlands a second thorough scan, this time picking up on a couple subtleties that raised his blood pressure a couple notches. The hairs on the back of his neck, too, rose to attention as he began trailing what appeared to be track marks in the dirt. They looked to have come from someone who had recently been scurrying through these parts, either in chase or in flight.
Hermione.
Severus accelerated his pace, following the trail two strides at a time, eyes frantically searching for any glimpse of the missing witch. He soon stumbled across slash marks that had been hacked out of trees. The bark was still smoking from whatever blasts—curses, rather—had been hurled recently. Whoever the individual was, he or she had hit the wrong target in pursuit.
Hermione.
Severus gave his wand a hasty wave to determine the spells used in these hot spots, and Dark Magic answered his morbid curiosity. It would appear that things were as grisly as he had feared, but Severus forced one foot in front of the other, adamant not to think the worst until—unless—he stumbled upon it with his own eyes.
If she was dead, you'd be dead, too, his unsteady conscience reminded him, his survival mode kicking into high gear as he heightened his search. Apparently, his and Hermione's tie by way of the Unbreakable Vow hadn't been severed—yet—and there was some relief in that notion, at the very least.
It doesn't mean that can't change!
To be sure, Hermione may not be dead but there were curses far worse than death one could succumb to, particularly if one's life ended up in the wrong, sinisterly-inclined hands, and that petrifying possibility pushed Severus forward at full tilt. His wand repeatedly made grand sweeps of the thick, dense woodlands in his wake, his shrewd senses probing for any glimmer of Hermione amongst ever increasing darkness and uncertainty.
Damn it, Hermione! Where are you?
Moments later, Severus nearly tripped over what he thought to be a tree stump; but, as the toe of his boot slid over the lump of what, in actuality, was a leg, Severus came to a standstill. He swirled around, wand aimed at the ground and ready to blast whatever was there to smithereens. Instead, he uncovered a still, male figure lying face down in the dirt. He didn't appear to be breathing, but Severus wasn't about to chance finding out whether he was alive or dead. He immobilised the unidentified, middle-aged person at once and rolled him onto his back with a jerk of his wand.
One of them, he gratingly surmised, wincing at the overpowering whiff of blood that assaulted his nostrils; the unfortunate soul seemed to have gotten himself caught in a Bombarda blast, for most of his face was gone, making his identity nearly impossible to detect without casting a spell.
Severus's heart began to pound faster, and not for the wretched servant of the Dark Lord who had gotten the ending he undoubtedly deserved. If one of the Dark Lord's spies has been in these woods, he considered with growing apprehension, then there might be others...or one of our own...
In haste, Severus moved on, but not before levitating the corpse under some bushes, scattering a large pile of dirt and leaves over the fiend's lifeless body, and casting a charm to ward off the stench of rotting flesh to any foreign passers-by. He Accio'ed the dead wizard's wand into his hand as well and took off, uncertain of which direction to go.
Hermione, where the bloody hell are you?
Severus circled the area one...two...three times, expanding his tracks with each round as he delved further and further into the foreboding forest, scouting for any detection of movement. It would seem that whoever this now lifeless pursuer was, he had acted alone or without aid, but that still didn't help in deducing where Hermione's whereabouts might be.
Not even the occasional hooting of an owl or the sight of a squirrel scampering up a tree could be detected or seen, only the frequent, desperate rasping of the wizard's own breaths. Severus's fierce heart rate, on the other hand, was drumming so loud in his ears that he was certain it would burst through his chest at any moment.
Hermione, where are you? Please, show yourself!
By now, Severus had lost sight of any footprints to help him track. Silence and hair-raising shadows bore back at him from every angle, nothing else viewable for as far as he could squint with his eyes.
For many more minutes, Severus pursued Hermione, though it was more like trying to catch a glimpse of smoke amidst a black hole, until a scrap of something a short distance away caught his eyes, with thanks to the light his wand had provided. He instantly moved closer to more closely inspect his discovery: a small, torn piece of fabric which looked to be from a pair of jeans or a jacket, entangled in witch-hazel. Severus excised it, turned it over with his spindly fingers, and tore around the enclosure, paying no mind to the scratches and scrapes he amassed for his fervent determination.
Severus glanced around, expecting to encounter nothing but the same tall oaks and massive bushes that had been obstructing his path for the past fifteen minutes. What he discovered caused his thrumming heart to drop into the pit of his stomach like a ten ton weight.
"Hermione!" he hissed aloud, piercing the silence with his cry of distress.
Severus's outburst sounded far louder to his ears than it actually was. Still, his knees betrayed him, buckling at the sight of her and sending him crashing to the ground.
No! Don't leave me! No, no, no! Don't you dare fucking leave me!
Driven by hysteria and fear, Severus scrambled on his hands and knees towards Hermione's seemingly lifeless body, which lay face down on the ground in the same position as her dead pursuer several paces back. His trousers caught on dirt and debris, and his hands bled from earlier scratch marks, but he paid none of this any mind.
NO, NO, NO!
Hermione didn't appear to be breathing. Severus rolled her sideways and pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, relieved beyond measure to discover a pulse; it was slow but sure and steady, nevertheless.
"Hermione? Hermione!"
There was no response, prompting Severus to uncover whatever damage might have been done in the aftermath of the witch's attempt to outrun her attacker. There appeared to be no missed spells around the area—no chunks taken out of trees or holes in the ground, nor smoke—and yet, though Hermione didn't appear to be harmed, she had been knocked off her feet somehow and was out cold. Her wand lay under her unfurled right hand, hidden in the shadows. Severus snatched it up and tucked it away in his coat pocket for safekeeping.
Please, don't go. Don't go. You can't.
The temperature was frigid and dropping fast, and, knowing he couldn't afford to waste much more time examining Hermione's injuries from here, Severus did another swift scan of their surroundings. There were no foot tracks to be found around the perimeter that might suggest someone else was lurking in these parts, so Severus threw his cloak over an unresponsive Hermione, scooped her limp form up into his arms, and lifted her gently and effortlessly from the ground.
It was dismaying how she didn't respond to being carried. Even a whimper would have sufficed at that moment.
"Hold on, Hermione," Severus whispered in desperation as they headed back to the safe house, he carrying her all the way, his sore legs working tirelessly to reach sanctuary.
Severus had noted a few razor-edged cuts on her cheeks and hands, which might indicate that she had physically struggled in trying to get away, and he prayed he wouldn't unmask anything more incriminating once he was able to give Hermione the proper look over she needed.
Soon enough, they were back at the invisible entrance, and, after throwing a hurried glance around them to ensure that they weren't being followed, Severus made a couple graceful waves of his wand, muttered the necessary password to enter the safe house, and passed through to the greeting of dozens of horrified onlookers. Several individual gasps and cries from the Muggle-borns erupted, and it was only then, upon closer inspection and under better lighting, that Severus realised the Hermione Granger he cradled in his arms looked far worse than he had originally gathered.
Don't go. You can't leave me.
Although his heart felt as though it was being compressed too tightly, Severus forced composure, as well as a controlled, blank expression, and hastened past the horde congregating closer, insisting with short, curt instructions that everyone leave him to attend to Hermione in peace.
Halfway down the cramped, low lit hallway that led to a series of beds, Severus realised he was being followed. He rounded the corner and stepped into the magically expanded room and wheeled around to shoot down the person tiptoeing up from behind; it was never a smart move to creep up on a keen wizard like Severus Snape, and he intended to make the idiot lament that stupidity.
"Your assistance isn't necessary, Miss Lovegood," he snapped at the former Ravenclaw who had foolishly followed.
Yet Luna didn't so much as jump or rear back. "I have potions in my bag that might be of help, sir?"
As though she didn't comprehend the gravity or urgency of the situation, Luna sauntered past him to an unmade bed at the far end of the room. "Bring her over here," she instructed Severus with her back turned. She began rummaging through an oversized pouch that had been tucked underneath the bed, humming to herself as she ferreted around for said potions.
Severus lingered by the doorway, however. It wasn't that he didn't trust Miss Lovegood—she had proven herself an exceptional potion-maker in his classroom for five years; better than most of her peers, to be honest, including some of his own Slytherins—but, whatever Hermione's injuries consisted of, the probability of Dark Magic was a strong hunch, and that wasn't a subject someone like Luna Lovegood would have thorough knowledge about combatting.
Yet, unlike Luna, Severus had virtually nothing on his person that might be of aid save for his wand. Spell work would diminish whatever dark curses might have been used to strike Hermione down, but she would surely require more than just spell magic to make a full recovery.
Issuing an incensed sigh of defeat, and with a disgruntled face, Severus approached Luna, making sure to erase the displeased expression he bore before she turned around to face him. She patted the empty bed next to the one she had staked out as her own, a small, reassuring smile etched upon her pale, tranced-like face.
"You can place her here."
Severus laid Hermione down on top of the covers, his nerves crawling out of his skin when the unconscious witch didn't so much as turn her head or flinch. His instincts told him that none of this bore well for her unknown condition. Even if she was out cold, her face might make a minuscule wince or she might even mumble something in her state of unconsciousness; but, there was nothing.
Please...
Severus ignored Luna a moment to run a diagnostic check and wasn't at all surprised by the information his wand collected: Dark Magic was at play. What did give him pause for consideration was the type of curse Hermione had been evidently struck by. All the blood drained from his already ashen countenance, his restrained expression giving way to panic and an even greater sense of urgency than before.
"Can you rid her of it?"
Severus's eyes fluttered back into focus. Luna was staring at him with curiosity, though her round eyes were somewhat hazy. Severus reigned in his emotions and drew his eyebrows together into one fierce line.
"I shall do everything in my power."
"I have an awakening potion. It should bring her round—"
"No." Severus halted Luna's efforts to get closer, forcing the phial in the witch's hand back to her chest. "I don't want her to awaken in this state, Miss Lovegood. It would only put her in a great deal more of distress."
"Then something to alleviate her discomfort, perhaps? Something for her head?"
"Do you carry anything for internal bleeding?" The question was brittle and tightly put forth; Severus knew full well what Luna's answer would be.
Luna frowned, puzzled. "Oh, I'm afraid I don't carry anything of that sort; but, I might have some—"
"Bruise-healing paste?" Severus motioned to the markings on Hermione's cheeks and hands. "Something to get rid of those cuts."
"Oh, yes, that I do!" Luna's eyes brightened as if from a dream and she fished about in her pouch a moment for the proposed ointment.
Severus readily left the girl to see to that task and began brandishing his wand up and down the length of Hermione's upper body, muttering a counter curse under his breath, the language of which was nefarious, chilling, and forbidden. If Luna was startled to hear the words dripping from Severus's lips, she remained silent about it.
Minutes passed without any change in Hermione's condition, though Luna had begun her work on her friend's cuts. Severus paused to run another diagnostic check, hoping for a sign of improvement.
"Sir?" Luna interrupted the disgruntled man's efforts; she had pushed back Hermione's hair to inspect a ghastly bruise that ran the length of her neck. "I think Hermione may have been splinched in the back..."
Severus wordlessly levitated Hermione off the bed in order to turn her over onto her stomach so that they could inspect the area. Luna tugged Hermione's blouse up to her shoulders and, sure enough, there was an enormous purple blemish covering most of her back and shoulder blades. Luna saw to healing it with the bruise-healing paste whilst Severus reduced the swelling with his wand.
It took only moments for Severus to piece together what had most likely led to Hermione's injuries. Her attacker had hit her in the back but not before she had sent a Bombarda over her shoulder to take him out. The curse she had acquired, one that Severus had certainly read about and even seen used in his odious dealings with Lord Voldemort, led to internal bleeding and, ultimately, death. Once hit by the life-threatening spell, the victim was rendered powerless, unconscious, and thereby unable to stop its fatal spread through the body. One couldn't wake themselves in order to ward off the injury or to call for aid.
If I hadn't found her straight away...
It was sobering to realise the cause had come exceptionally close this night to not only losing one of their own but two. For Severus, though, this bleak probability paled in comparison to the remembrance of the oath he had sworn to protect Hermione, no matter the cost. Tonight, he had almost broken that promise, failing not only Hermione but himself and her parents.
And there's the probability that you might lose her still...
Severus swallowed such foreboding contemplations and hurried to finish his diagnostic check, resuming the counter curse in the hopes of reversing Hermione's internal damage, never speaking to Luna as he worked over her for the next gruesome three hours. Luckily, Luna smartly didn't seek to interrupt him again.
The unlikely duo worked on in silent unison, Severus reverting back and forth between repeats of the counter curse and checking Hermione's prognosis, which steadily improved as the hours wore on. Meanwhile, Luna tugged Hermione out of her grimy clothes and situated her comfortably beneath the covers, speaking to her on occasion as if she were awake and alert.
Only once Severus was certain that all traces of deterioration were successfully eliminated and reversed did he finally pause to stand upright and wipe at his brow, acknowledging the pounding headache that had been brought on by interfering in such Dark Magic for an extended period of time. His measures had drained him considerably, causing unsteady posture and the frequent want to sit—collapse, rather—into a nearby chair; but Severus had pushed past the brink of his own exhaustion, praying that his efforts would work in Hermione's favour. Thankfully, they seemingly had, though the witch had yet to awaken from her plight.
Luna, highly attuned to Severus's needs without him so much as uttering a word, softly and calmly pressed phials for the treatment of headaches and replenished energy into Severus's hand when he was through. She graced a taken aback Severus with a sweet smile, unlocked eyes to drape another cover over top of her friend—now naked save for a pair of knickers—and lightly patted the wizard's arm in parting.
"I must check on the others. I'll be back."
Severus eyed Luna Lovegood as the peculiar blonde swayed out of the room, realising how sorely mistaken he had been about his former student. Yes, she was a bit of a flake and highly strange for certain, but Luna Lovegood was also a capable young woman who could infer exactly what a person needed, whether it was healing potions or the comfort of being alone with his thoughts...and his witch.
Severus marginally inspected the potions the former Ravenclaw had handed him before taking a large swig of each. The energy potion revitalised him almost instantly, sending a shiver of awakening down his spine and through every nerve in his body.
Severus peered down at Hermione, inert and ashen-faced but alive. Alive. There was no telling how she might feel once she awoke, but, for now, a knackered Severus slumped onto the bed by her side, intent on remaining with Hermione until she chose to open her eyes. He gingerly rearranged her so that her back was propped against his chest, his wiry arms bundling her close, with his nose properly nestled into a handful of her maddening curls.
"I'm here, Hermione," he murmured into her knotted tresses; she smelt of a cold, harsh winter but also of her, providing Severus deep consolation as his heart rate, at last, slowed to a stable rhythm. "Hang in there. You... You can't leave me. Don't you leave me all alone..."
The silence that followed was deafening. The distraught, greasy-haired man holding vigil over Hermione reacted by squeezing her tighter to him, never letting her go until the wee hours of the morning when he, too, succumbed and allowed himself to sleep.
"Severus?"
Severus's eyelids popped open. That voice—her voice—was too overpowering for even desperate need for sleep to ignore, causing his heart to skip a beat. He soaked in the familiarity of those frizz-filled curls somewhat obstructing a dainty nose dotted with freckles and a hazy pair of brown eyes that, at present, were awake and staring up at him, both confused and seemingly gladdened by his presence.
Hermione!
Severus nearly catapulted out of bed. He flew forward from the bedpost he had been braced against to grasp Hermione by both arms. His drowsy conscious realised Hermione had finally awoken, and he embraced her with such power and strength that the small woman was forced to shove and push against his chest in order to catch her breath.
"Severus!" she gasped, eyes flashing wide with shock. "Too tight! Too tight!"
"Are you all right?" he hounded, ignoring Hermione's rasps for air as he pulled back to fervidly examine her for any problems. "How's your head? Do you feel sick at all; dizzy; light-headed?"
"For goodness' sake, Severus," she was barely able to respond, half laughing and half gasping, "I'm all right! I'm fine! Calm down!"
"Do you not remember anything from last night?" came his growl of retaliation, studying her now through a pair of beady, concerned eyes.
"I... Oh!" Slowly, the comprehension of the time from when she had last been awake dawned on Hermione's face; her mouth opened and shut several times, her tongue leaping to catch up with the memories that now spun before her. "Yes! That - That man—one of them—had been following us for some time! The others had fallen behind or been taken down by ours and... OH MY GOD!"
Hermione suddenly jerked out of Severus's arms, her voice turning high-pitched and hysterical like a switch. Around the couple, several others slept soundly in beds or on transfigured air mattresses on the floor; but, Hermione was unaware of their presence, caught up in a delirium of alarm that had come on without warning.
"Where are the others? Are they all right? Where is everyone?"
"Easy, Hermione, easy!" Severus tried to sooth the feverish witch, who fought tooth and nail to be brought back to his chest; her abrupt cries began stirring some of those around them. "Everyone's all right, Hermione. Shhhh! They're safe; you brought them to safety."
At last, Hermione's erratic breathing began to level out. Severus was grateful to have speedily calmed her down, for he really didn't appreciate the idea of anyone else waking now and butting into their much-needed exchange. He hadn't seen Hermione in ages—he hadn't spoken to her privately for what felt like decades—and there was so much to catch up on and discuss.
So, so much...
"What about Luna?" Hermione continued blabbering on, this time lowering her voice an octave or two. "And her lot—"
"They made it, Hermione. They arrived shortly before you did. Everyone's safe. You're safe."
Severus paused to allow Hermione time to process where they were. Her eyes had finally begun to take in the room, drawing awareness of the many others still asleep. Finally, her petite frame shuddered and released a heavy sigh.
Only once her head came to re-nestle beneath his chin did Severus chance asking, "Can you tell me what happened; or, what you remember?"
For a moment, he wasn't entirely sure that Hermione was going to answer him. She had gone rigid in his embrace, and, for a considerable pause, she offered up not a word nor moved an inch within his embrace.
After a couple excruciating seconds ticked by, however, she situated her head against Severus's chest and reared back so that she could stare into his eyes. Her own had turned pensive, yet open.
"We were ambushed," she began delicately, hoarsely, taking a moment to swallow. "I... I still don't know how our secret location beneath the Catacombs was uncovered. We'd been so, so careful, Severus; every single one of us—"
"I know," Severus interrupted, holding her gaze steady. "I snuck into the Shacklebolt Estate the other night. Never you mind the details," he added at the sudden wave of worry that crossed over her expression. "I didn't come up with much, but I came across a file...on you. It happened to include the whereabouts of your meetings with the Muggle-borns. Somehow or another, he and his spies discovered the location; they've known for some time, apparently. I wanted to come and warn you but..."
"Is that..." Hermione piped up when Severus went abruptly still and quiet. "It that why you're here?"
Her soft irises, trusting and unassuming, thoughtfully searched his own, and Severus couldn't prevent himself from echoing a strained sigh of relief. She looked well; grossly pale and shaken up, of course, but all right.
She's alive. She's all right.
"Yes," Severus responded and inclined his face closer to hers, ignoring the occasional snores of those around them, all of whom were—thankfully—still dozing. "I feared I might be too late to warn you or to stop the attack being planned and..." A muscle in his cheek went taut but he pressed on, with a resolute tone, "Unfortunately, I was too late, and you nearly paid with your life. I failed you, Hermione, but, I promise, I'll never fail you again."
Hermione started in Severus's arms and blinked hard. "Severus, you haven't failed me."
"Yes, I have—"
"No," she insisted in a stern whisper, tossing her head back and forth and laying a hand on the man's arm, her slim fingers clutching at his frock coat, "you're here, Severus. You're here. And that... That means everything to me. Everything."
Hermione brought her flushed countenance to his chest, hiding her face in the stiff fabric. Her frame issued a shudder when Severus gathered her into his protective fold again, one hand slinking into her curls whilst he burrowed his nose in the top of her tresses. They held firmly to one another for a long while, neither issuing another word until they felt they could do so without breaking down.
"How..." Severus started, stopped, and then tried again. "How have you been feeling?"
"All right," she muffled into his coat and shrugged, her conveyance entirely unconvincing, though Severus concealed his knowing smirk behind her hair. He repeated the question again, much to her wonderment. She leaned back in his arms to meet his eyes, her brow now heavily furrowed. "I feel fine, Severus. I mean, things have been extremely hard here and all, and I..." She paused, giving a faint blush. "I've missed you an awful lot, but I'm hanging in there. Honest."
Severus brushed a light hand over a couple curls that hung in Hermione's eyes, pushing them back and tucking the strands gently behind her ear. He seemed to hesitate a moment, torn between touching her elsewhere or, perhaps, saying something. Then his hand grazed in a slow motion down her neck, over her exposed sternum, and across her stomach. His rough, though warm, fingers lingered there, his palm pressed delicately across her skin. It caught upon a certain jagged scar she had obtained years ago, and Hermione recoiled slightly as his curious fingers began to trace its outline.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his sincere apology felt in those enthralling, moonless eyes. "I didn't mean to..."
"It - It's all right," Hermione stammered, and her tone was questionable. "I just... I forget sometimes about it and it's... I hate it."
"I understand, though," Severus took a moment to review what little naked flesh of the witch's he could appreciate, what with the sheets flanking her, "I think you carry nothing to be shy or ashamed of, Hermione."
To his private comfort, Hermione's slight, shamefaced frown transformed into the faintest but most genuinest of smiles; a loveliness he hadn't seen in eons and realised then and there that he had sorely missed. Deeply.
A healthy glow formed across Hermione's cheeks as well, livening them both as they proceeded to snuggle closer to one another for warmth and solace.
"Hermione," Severus cleared his throat, a sudden determination to get out what had been worrying him sick for almost two months gravely on his mind, "there's something I need to ask you..."
"Yes?"
Severus attempted another clearing of his throat that sounded more awkward than the last. "When you stayed with me at Spinner's End, there were many times that we..."
"Yes?" Hermione pushed when the man then halted to blush profusely, hooded eyes half hidden behind his curtain of limp hair.
After a befuddling pause, Severus sucked in a breath. "I was a fool, Hermione. I was so caught up in...well, in you that I never stopped to consider that we... Well, we never..."
"Yes, Severus? What is it?"
"We never used protection."
Hermione's pupils dilated before his eyes. "Oh!" she let out, rosy cheeks fading. "Oh..."
The stillness was so thick that Severus could hear the irritable thumping of his own heartbeat over and over again. He forced himself not to speak, however; to allow the young witch a proper moment or two to process the idiocy of their blunders.
Granted, he had wracked his brain over such a dense mistake on his part ever since Lucius planted the mental note in his brain weeks ago, and yet, in the end, Severus had come up empty. There were simply no excuses to be had for such a lapse of judgement. He had admitted to Hermione that he loved her, of course, but that didn't pardon not taking the necessary precautions when they had had the chance. Every single time! Sure, he could chock it all up to a damaging combination of stress and exhaustion, but, still, none seemed too defensible in his mind.
It didn't help matters that Hermione's initial shock soon wore off, altering to grim reticence, and Severus hardly knew what to make of the change. He was normally an expert at reading people's thoughts and emotions, particularly Hermione's, and yet, here and now she had suddenly turned cryptic and unfamiliar.
"I... I never considered that myself," she softly confessed, her hand slipping from his chest to his shoulder.
"I, at the very least, should have, so you needn't blame yourself."
"I don't blame either of us, actually."
Severus held his breath. "Hermione, it never should have happened. Again, I should have protected you, and, once again, I failed to do so..."
"Severus, no; please don't." Hermione inched closer until she was practically straddling the wizard's lap. "We were both entirely thick-headed, yes, but... I also never considered it an issue because... Um, well..."
Severus inclined his head to hers, the lines straining his face markedly intense. "Hermione, what aren't you telling me?" His heart was pounding harder in his chest, his mind fearing the worst was yet to come.
It seemed to take a prolonged period of time before Hermione would look Severus in the eyes. By then, he was ready to shake the truth out of her if he had to.
"I can't ever get pregnant, Severus," she admitted to him, and then tears began to form. "I - I'm not able to...ever..."
Severus reared back and blinked several times. Had he actually heard her correctly?
"You can't conceive?"
"N - No..." She bit her quivering bottom lip and explained, her voice shaking with emotion, "In - In my fifth year, when I was struck in the Department of Mysteries, Madam Pomfrey spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what curse Dolohov had used on me. We never figured out what exactly the curse was, but, from all the diagnostic tests she ran, we uncovered that one of the after effects of the curse was...infertility."
Severus hardly knew how to respond. On the one hand, he felt an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders; a weight he had been carrying around in secret with tremendous guilt and remorse for a number of agonising weeks. Remarkably, he and Hermione had managed to get off 'easy', considering the enormity of their terrible oversight, and confirming that he hadn't wound up getting the witch pregnant spelled relief on a level that Severus couldn't quite put into words.
Yet, the wealth of tears manifesting in Hermione's eyes shattered his already fragile heart. Yes, there was immense alleviation in knowing they had 'dodged a bullet', so to speak, but, for someone as naturally nurturing as the woman now trembling in his arms, there was equal tragedy in learning of Hermione's delicate circumstance.
Uncertain of how to respond or to comfort her, Severus chose to ease Hermione against him and hug her close, one hand, again, placed comfortingly on the back of her head. "You're relieved?" she surprised him by putting him on the spot after a pregnant period of silence ensued, in which she stifled a few sobs into his shoulder.
"I confess, I... I am." Severus partly regretted telling Hermione the truth, but lying to her was a misfortune he had done too many times before. "I didn't know the extent of Dolohov's curse, though, and I... I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly, I am."
A quiet sniffle later, "Does it change your mind?"
Severus turned his head. "What?"
"Do - Do you not love me anymore?"
"Of course I do," he growled in defence, fingers fisting around bits of her thick hair.
"Be - Because it does alter things, Severus..."
Severus took a brief moment to contemplate Hermione's words before concluding rather assertively, "Not to me, it doesn't." He waited for Hermione to peer up at him, which she did so with uncertainty, before adding, "We haven't won this war, Hermione, and there's still the real possibility that we may ultimately lose this fight. I couldn't conceive of us, acting like the two sex-deprived fools that we've been, bringing an innocent child into this godawful, bloody mess we're in, accidentally or otherwise.
"None of you—not even Potter—deserved to be thrown into battle well before your childhoods were over. I couldn't live with myself if I brought a son or a daughter into this hell with us. Could you?"
Slowly, Hermione nodded, her eyes still glassy and watery. "I understand," she whispered and, without another word, rested her head on Severus's shoulder again, his atop hers.
From thereon, and for the next precious hour or so, the two held a little tighter to one another, considering all that they had lost and, at the same time, stood to gain if this war was won. Neither expressed aloud what that particularly meant for them, but, despite the lack of communication, a nonverbal understanding had been reached in those few precious moments together.
"Severus?" Hermione addressed him as others began to wake, knowing they would soon be forced to put their personal wants aside once more. "It will all be over soon...won't it?"
Severus nuzzled his nose well within Hermione's locks and kissed the top of her head, stating in a faint murmur, for her alone, "With any luck, yes."
NAGINI, THE DARK LORD'S LAND-STANDING FAMILIAR, IS DEAD!
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named declares the cause of death "foul play" and believes his snake was poisoned by someone working on the inside.
Turn to page 2 for a timeline outlining the events that ultimately led to Nagini's reported murder.
Severus merely glimpsed the Daily Prophet's latest headline in passing on his way to the fridge, glancing sidelong over a Muggle-born's shoulder as the girl, who couldn't be any older than Hermione, read the front page at the kitchen table.
The welcoming news sent a jolt of electricity surging through him as he crossed the room to snatch up a carton of milk. Nagini was dead. The plan had worked! Not as rapidly as Severus would have liked, but, still, that perilous task was now complete.
His last Horcrux is no more.
This incoming report would certainly explain the raging pain his Dark Mark had raised the previous night. After tending to Hermione, and then passing out for nearly an hour, Severus awoke to another bout of the Dark Lord's rage. He had assumed it was simply another one of the maniac's ruthless attempts to unnerve and break him down. He had maintained his own magical methods for lessening the pain since they had begun, but the Dark Lord was still capable of inflicting a great deal of pain, and last night had been one of the more searing incidences Severus had experienced, the worst since his cover had been blown almost two months prior.
With Nagini finally out of the picture, that leaves him truly vulnerable. Severus's momentary smirk of triumph faltered. Now to take him out before he creates anymore bloody Horcruxes.
Severus took a gradual sip of his glass of milk, his frown steely and unwavering as he stared towards the empty hallway adjoining the kitchen, his ears alerting to other members of the Light who were presently waking and preparing to greet the day.
The battle to end all battles would come swift and furiously now. He and Hermione, like so many, would have to be ready to meet the inevitable when it arrived.
"POTTER!" someone shouted from down the hall, causing Severus to abruptly reach for his wand; soon thereafter, his stance relaxed, though his mind had turned to another problem. "It's Potter! He's here! He's here! Come see!"
The Muggle-born seated at the table leapt out of her chair and pounded out of the room. The safe house was suddenly buzzing with activity, with people bypassing the kitchen to assemble into the sitting area at full gallop, all curious to catch a glimpse of the latest arrivals, including the infamous Harry Potter, though very few seemed to know his of his true identity. The movement had planned it that way, hoping his reemergence might entice and rally supporters to their cause.
Severus didn't join the others, however. After peaking into the hallway and finding the sitting area now filled to capacity, his worries turned to Hermione. How would she fair seeing Miss Weasley for the first time wearing Potter's genetic makeup, right down to his lightening bolt scar? He tensed at the how poorly this might go down and rushed off to retrieve the fragile witch, but he hadn't gotten far before he ran right into her. She was patting her way towards the sitting room as well, though she had been one of the last to leave the comforts of her bed.
"Hermione, perhaps you should—"
"Gin - Ginny's here?" she faintly inquired; she was hugging herself and leaning sideways to see past Severus's towering frame.
"Yes, she and the others just arrived. I wasn't expecting them until later this evening or even tomorrow."
Cheers and rallying cries of 'Potter!' and 'the Boy Who Lived!' repeated themselves over and over, reverberating down the narrow corridor to where Severus and Hermione stood, the darkened atmosphere around them otherwise quiet and tense. Hermione looked on with hesitation and apprehension, seemingly unsure about taking another step closer.
"Would you prefer not to see her right now?" Severus pushed as gently as he could, knowing that that was probably best.
Hermione forcibly shook her head, however. "No, I do want to see her..."
"It may not be such a good idea, Herm—"
"Hermione?"
That voice—that bloody voice—prompted the hair's on the back of Severus's neck to rise. No matter how many times he may remind himself that Potter was no more, he would never get used to Miss Weasley so successfully filling those shoes.
He twirled around, thereby giving Hermione a proper view of the person who had called to her. When Hermione's gaze met her addresser's, her mouth dropped open in amazement. There, creeping cautiously down the hall, was Harry—Wonderful Harry...—with the same messy dark hair, round glasses, and fierce green eyes she remembered, though, at the moment, they were reflective and searching. He swallowed and inched closer, and Hermione had to force the reminder that this wasn't her closest and dearest friend. That friend was long dead, and he wasn't coming back.
He isn't coming back...
Yet this was Harry, right down to every quirk and mannerism, even his half-cock grin which he carefully offered her. Hermione's knees became unstable. She staggered back a step and was caught by Severus's arm which had seized her around the waist. She leaned into him, gripping his shirt for balance.
"I - I can't do this," she whimpered under her breath, too low for the approaching Harry to hear.
After gathering her strength, Hermione spun on the scene and ran, adamant to get as far away as possible. Severus met the imposter Harry's eyes and, though the uncanniness of him put the spy on edge, he inhaled deeply and cast his differences with the dead man aside. No, this wasn't Potter, no matter how eerily like him his imposter was.
"I feared it would be too much for her," Harry—Ginny—whispered sadly. "Perhaps..." He turned around, eying a couple of the dawdlers who had followed him down the hall, and they each quietly retreated to give him and Severus proper space. "Perhaps, if she was to see me as myself, she might take this better?"
Severus nodded in agreement, his mouth set tightly. "That would be wise, Miss Weasley." Giving Potter's lookalike a probing look over, he tossed his head towards an unoccupied room further down the hall. "Why don't you go alter yourself in there? I'll bring Miss Granger round shortly."
The young man nodded approvingly and slipped past Severus into the small room as instructed, the two long ago adversaries not meeting eye to eye in passing. After the door was softly shut and warded from within, Severus went in search of Hermione.
A/N #2: Just one more important exchange worth having before the beginning of the end to this dark tale can unfold...
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