A/N: I feel almost tearful as I post this, the penultimate chapter of our story. This project has been a part of my life for nearly two years now, and knowing that I have no plans to write more fanfic at this point (other than, in the future, to finish Owned), it feels like the looming end of something. I have enjoyed more than you know sharing this story with you all, and your comments are my reward for the hours and hours of writing.

Now, let's get on with it!

Transcendent Quality of Remembrance

Chapter 25

Stay, tell me the story again
How it all fell apart in the end

Hard to Believe – by David Hodges

10 July, 1998

Evening darkened into night, and the oil lamp set before her on the desk burned on. Hermione wrote her heart, every memory she had been denied by the Lethe Elixir, and this pouring out of remembrance, tinged as it was with her emotions, was truly a labour of love. As she wrote, in rich, evocative detail, she became more convinced that her husband's behaviour with her, so gallant and unguarded, so receptive and unrestrained, had been a direct result of his belief that she would remember nothing. The realisation tore at her, making her want nothing so much as to tell him—convince him—that she loved him utterly, would love him always, would be bereft without him.

She wrote; she stared at the wall as she considered how to phrase something; and when her hand began to cramp, she crept down to the kitchen and brewed a pot of tea, carrying it back to her room and resuming her project, fortified by the contents of the teapot. Even so, when the rays of dawn filtered into the attic room and she wrote her final words, it was with a weary hand, and she was able to fall onto Severus' pillow and sleep, knowing she had written all the truth she knew about her love for him.

She would worry later about how to see to it that he read it.

11 July, 1998

Molly looked worriedly at the scarcely-touched dinner tray that had been on the counter when she'd come down that morning. 'I'm worried about her, Arthur,' she said quietly, not wanting to attract the attention of the young people a few feet away at the breakfast table. 'She's just the sort of girl to fret herself into a fever over something like this.'

Arthur put a comforting arm about his wife. 'Hermione's got a good head on her shoulders,' he said. 'Let's give her some time to … gather her thoughts. She'll be down when she's hungry.'

Molly shook her head. 'I warned her not to keep secrets from him,' she said. 'It's a bad idea in any marriage, but a man like Severus would be bound to take it harder than another sort might.'

Arthur sighed. 'I tried to speak with him when he came out of the house looking like a thundercloud, but he was in no mood to chat. We'll have to let them work out their troubles.' He gave Molly's shoulders a squeeze. 'Let's eat our breakfast, love. No use in worrying.'

Hermione woke with a start, the sun now high enough in the sky to shine directly into her face through the attic window. She glanced at her wristwatch and saw it was just past noon. Her stomach rumbled loudly. As much as she didn't want to answer any questions about the absence of her husband, she was hungry and couldn't continue eating in her room like an invalid

She gathered her shower things and a change of clothes and trudged down to the communal bathroom to make herself presentable.

When she reached the kitchen later, her housemates were gathered about the table, passing platters of sandwiches from hand to hand. Hermione smiled wanly and nodded at the greetings she received, slipping into the empty chair between Harry and Ron, wondering if they had kept it for her on purpose.

'Lemonade or water to drink?' Harry asked her, nodding towards the two pitchers in the middle of the table. 'We're out of Butterbeer, and there's only enough milk left for cooking.'

Hermione asked for lemonade and began to eat her sandwich hungrily, concentrating on the taste of the food and trying not to think of the empty chair across the table.

'Hagrid had best get here soon, or we'll be berry-hunting for breakfast tomorrow,' Molly said. 'I know Dumbledore has us here for a good reason, but we cannot continue on without replenishing our supplies.' She gestured towards the larder, which was rather bare.

Ron leant in close to Hermione from one side and Harry from the other. 'Feeling better?' Ron murmured

When she nodded, Harry patted her shoulder. 'I'm glad. There's some stuff from the Daily Prophet that you should see—you won't believe what the Ministry's been getting up to while we've been here. It's ridiculous.'

When the lunch things had been cleared away, Hermione allowed herself to be led out into the warm afternoon sun with a stack of disordered copies of the Daily Prophet, which were much the worse for wear for having been passed hand to hand. The boys waited whilst she read through the main page articles, although their impatience was almost palpable. The more Hermione read, the more incredulous she became. It seemed unreal, like a confusing, bad dream. After scanning through the last article, she looked at Harry and Ron, and their faces showed their fury and betrayal—emotions she knew she ought to share. She did feel those things, but in a dim way, as if from a distance.

'How could they?' she whispered. 'We gave up everything to work out how to fight Voldemort because they were too complacent to do it—and now they want to put us in jail?'

'Yeah, we're probably going to use all our "paramilitary expertise" to be terrorists now,' Harry said bitterly.

'Serve them right if we did,' Ron said darkly.

Lupin and Tonks, who'd been watching with some concern, joined them then. 'Let's not jump to conclusions,' Lupin cautioned. 'Dumbledore is working on it—and Kingsley is the Minister for Magic—we're not friendless at the Ministry.'

Tonks chimed in. 'Yeah, we're best off waiting here until Dumbledore gets it all sorted. He's bound to be making progress—even if he doesn't always keep us very well informed.'

'I don't like hiding while someone else fights my battles,' Harry said, running a hand through his messy hair and making it worse.

Ginny, who'd also been lurking nearby, sat down beside him and captured one of his hands. 'Even so, you're going to wait here with the rest of us until the headmaster gives the all clear,' she said. 'I trust him, Harry. Don't you?'

Harry sighed, his eyes closing. 'Yeah, I trust him,' he muttered. 'But I hate waiting.'

Luna appeared with a bag of Gobstones and a lone bottle of Butterbeer. 'Let's have a Gobstones tournament,' she suggested brightly. 'The winner gets the last bottle of Butterbeer.'

Hermione left them to the game and walked into the house, finding Arthur on the sofa with a book, Molly at his side with her knitting

'All right, Hermione?' Arthur said gently.

'Can I get you anything, dear?' Molly added, putting her knitting needles aside.

Hermione shook her head. 'I'm feeling fine,' she assured them, 'but I'm still sleepy—I think I'll pop up for a nap.'

In the attic room, she retrieved the long scroll she had written from the desk. The Wizengamot and the Ministry were searching for the DA and the Order to put them all in protective custody, but as much as the knowledge upset her, she couldn't give it her full attention. Lupin and Tonks were right. She trusted the headmaster to resolve that issue, but even Dumbledore could do nothing about her fractured relationship with Severus.

She wasn't positive it could be mended.

Trying to put it from her mind, she lay down upon the bed and closed her eyes.

The smell of roast beef was filling the house and drawing its inhabitants towards the kitchen when a thunderous knock fell upon the door.

'I recognise that gentle tap!' Fred cried, turning to his twin with a grin.

'Hagrid is here!' George agreed, and the two rushed to admit their large friend.

Hagrid came in, stooping to clear the doorframe. His wild hair and beard were as tangled as ever, but his beetle black eyes were alight with glee as he clapped both of the twins on a shoulder, sending them each to one knee with the blow.

Molly bustled into the sitting room, a wooden spoon in her hand. 'Hello, Hagrid!' she said. 'You're very welcome, as I'm sure you know, but where are our supplies?' She glared pointedly at his dustbin-lid-sized hands, which ought to have been clutching two bulging hampers of food.

'Hullo, Molly!' Hagrid replied jovially. 'Sorry 'bout the hampers, but you won' be needin' 'em. The headmaster says you lot can come out of hidin'!'

Everyone surged into the room, voices raised excitedly, and Hagrid was mobbed with questions. Hermione listened from the first floor landing, lured downstairs by the noise, but unwilling to join the throng

So, they could all return home. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked angrily against them. All right, so she didn't have a home right now—she had only Severus' rooms at Hogwarts, and he didn't seem to want her near him. She had meant to leave from Hogwarts to go to Salem, but that plan was in tatters now. She would have to go back to Hogwarts to pack her trunk, and then she could go to her parents' home, she supposed—or perhaps she could stay with Harry and Ron at Grimmauld Place while she sorted herself out.

Harry appeared at the foot of the stairs, and when he saw her sitting on the top step, he came up.

'Did you hear?' he asked her, his tone quiet, but his eyes bright with excitement. 'All charges have been dropped, and Magical Law Enforcement issued a public apology. Kingsley read it aloud in a session of the Wizengamot today, and it will be published in the paper tomorrow.' He grinned his irrepressible, happy grin, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back at him. 'The headmaster did it—made them agree to a public acknowledgment that they were wrong—so none of us would lose face.'

He extended a hand to her. 'Come down to eat with us,' he urged. 'Hagrid brought a couple of bottles of Rosmerta's finest mead from the Three Broomsticks. We'll drink a toast or two.'

It was good news—she just didn't care about it the way everyone else did. She couldn't imagine caring about much of anything, not ever again—not as long as Severus was gone from her life. But she allowed Harry to pull her to her feet. If nothing else, being near Harry was a comfort to her.

The assembled crowd devoured the roast beef Molly had prepared, excitedly discussing plans for leaving. Bill and Fleur would Disapparate right after dinner to return to Shell Cottage, but the new couples—Percy and Cho, the twins and the twins—elected to remain at Forest Haven one last night and go home the next day.

'We have to leave this house even tidier than we found it!' Molly said determinedly as she collected their pudding dishes. 'Every room must be swept and mopped, and if you lot imagine I'm going to do all that work, you can think again!'

Then the bottles of mead were opened, and everyone lifted a glass to toast the headmaster. They adjourned outside with their goblets of mead to enjoy the last night they would share at their Secret Kept house in the forest.

Hagrid had used his pink umbrella to good effect on one of the wooden kitchen chairs, making it large and sturdy enough to hold him, and he dragged it outside when the party moved out of doors. Hermione slipped up next to him in a quiet moment, and he smiled down at her mistily, already a bit the worse for drink.

'Hullo there, Hermione,' he said. 'Yeh've been quiet tonight.'

'Hagrid,' Hermione said, hearing the urgency in her voice and unable to quell it, 'is Professor Snape at Hogwarts?'

'O' course he is,' Hagrid answered. 'Professor Dumbledore says he wouldn'ta worked it all out 'cept fer Professor Snape's help.' Hagrid drank deeply from his goblet, and Hermione waited impatiently for him to swallow and belch discreetly into his hand. 'Brilliant man, Dumbledore,' he said, and then after a moment he added judiciously, 'an' I guess Snape is, too.'

Hermione peered into his eyes, trying to gauge his sobriety. 'You're not sleeping here tonight, are you?'

'No, I'll pop back home in a bit,' he assured her. 'Nowhere fer me to sleep in this little house.'

Hermione pulled the thick scroll from her bag. 'Will you give this to Professor Snape for me please, Hagrid?' she said. 'Tonight?'

He blinked. 'It's late,' he objected.

'I know it is,' Hermione said, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt, 'but this is important.'

Raucous laughter drifted from the stream banks, followed by a loud splash, then Molly's nagging voice. Hagrid was distracted by the commotion, so Hermione tugged on the sleeve of his coat.

'Will you, Hagrid? I need for you to put this directly into his hands before you sleep tonight.'

When the half-giant looked down at her again, he narrowed his eyes and studied her face. 'Had a row, didn' yeh?' he asked quietly. 'This is a make-up letter.'

Hermione released the breath she was holding. This was close enough to the truth, and obviously something Hagrid understood. 'Yes, that's right,' she agreed, and he took the scroll, inserting it into one of his capacious pockets

Hermione decided she would not even wonder what else Hagrid had in that pocket.

'I'll put in his hands before I go to bed tonight,' he agreed. 'Anythin' yeh wan' me to tell him?'

'No!' She took a breath, thinking that had sounded rather abrupt and ungrateful, considering that he was doing her a favour. 'Thank you, Hagrid, but no. The letter says everything.'

He gave a solemn nod and placed a finger alongside his nose. 'Count on me,' he said, and with a final gulp of mead and a resounding burp he stood. 'I'll be gettin' on now,' he said, giving Hermione a gentle pat on the back and moving forward to say his goodbyes.

Hermione picked up his goblet and carried it along with hers into the kitchen. She had overcome the problem of having no owl to deliver her letter to Severus. Now she was faced with a new problem, one for which she had no solution.

Would he read it?

Severus sat in his favourite wingchair, a snifter of brandy at his elbow, a volume of Tolkien open in his hands. He had yet to turn a page when a heavy knock fell upon his door, and he was at once alert. He knew only one person who pounded thus upon his door, and that person seldom brought good news.

Severus opened his door to Rubeus Hagrid and stood aside with a gesture. Hagrid came in, smelling of spirits, and Severus wondered if the Keeper of the Keys had come along for one of his nonsensical philosophical discussions. He winced inwardly, remembering their last such conversation.

'How may I help you, Hagrid?' he asked.

Hagrid thrust a hand deep into his pocket and brought out a scroll of parchment bound with a burgundy satin ribbon—a ribbon Severus was sure he had seen more than once, binding up Hermione's bushy hair.

'She asked me to bring it to yeh,' Hagrid said, placing the scroll, which was covered lightly in what looked like vole fur, into Severus' hand. 'She said I was to put it in yer hand before I slept tonight.'

He pulled a large spotted handkerchief from a different pocket and dabbed at his suddenly watery eyes whilst Severus watched, somewhat horrified. Was Hagrid going to cry? Right here, in Severus' dungeon sitting room? How could he prevent it?

'Good man,' Severus boomed, clapping Hagrid on the upper arm, since he could not quite reach his shoulder. 'Terribly good of you to bring it by,' he said, gravitating toward the door and hoping Hagrid would follow. 'Mustn't let me keep you from your bed, though.'

Before Hagrid quite knew what was happening to him, he was standing once again in the corridor. 'Whatever it is, Professor, I'm sure she's sorry,' Hagrid said cryptically, and then with another swipe at his eyes with the enormous, rather grubby handkerchief, he began to weave his way down the stone passage.

Severus closed and warded the door, then ruffled the edges of the parchment scroll with a cleaning charm, because Merlin only knew what Hagrid was keeping in his pockets these days. Holding the scroll in his hands, he resumed his place in the armchair and muttered a string of spells over Hermione's gift, checking for poisons or hex-traps or other harmful things. When he was satisfied that she had not asked Hagrid to deliver some sort of jinxed threat, he sat back and swallowed some brandy, staring down at the obviously long scroll. He had seen school assignments of hers nearly as long, but this was not an assignment, was it? It was a handwritten document of some sort that was important enough for her to have it hand-delivered to him.

Why did he not find that reassuring?

He pulled the ribbon, undoing the simple bow she had tied, and felt a pang of loss in his gut, sharp and galling—she was not his, would never be his, for she couldn't wait to be apart from him. So what was in this scroll?

He breathed in deeply, girding himself with what courage he could muster for this unwelcome task, and he unrolled the scroll, reading the heading:

The Story of Our Love

A Memoir

He felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs, and unaccountably, his fingers were trembling as he unrolled the parchment further and began to read.

A/N: This week's song is another by the very talented David Hodges called Hard to Believe. It's a lovely song in its own right. You may hear it on YouTube .