These characters and their setting are the property of J. Rowling and her associates and affiliates.

Author's note: Many thinks to my beta Country Mouse for her help in getting this chapter ready. Her input is a phenominal boost!

Chapter 28: Water under the Bridge

"If you love someone, Severus, sometimes you have to set them free."

"I can't lose her before I absolutely have to. Especially since I never really had her to begin with."

Remus eyed the stiff, dark clad back of Severus Snape with apprehensive sympathy. He understood the man's emotions, he actually agreed with his position, but he couldn't help thinking there was a danger he hadn't been able to convey to him. Snape was making a mistake with Hermione-- a well-meaning one, of course, but still a mistake. There were times ( and he was sure this was one of them) the best course of action wasn't actually the "right" one. Severus wanted to protect his wife, and he was completely correct in wanting to do so. But Remus knew that Mrs. Snape wasn't one to submit meekly to "Don't get involved," "Don't ask questions," or "Wait until you're older."

Hermione Snape was a fighter. She was a crusader. She did have a compulsion for obeying rules, but she always overrode it when she felt someone needed her. And someone had always needed her. She had been there with Harry when he went after the Sorcerer's Stone; she had been there in the Shrieking Shack; she had helped Harry defy Umbridge, and had been wounded in that disastrous Ministry raid. Always Hermione had put others ahead of herself, and she had never hesitated to break rules to do so.

Lupin mentally shook his head. This quality that so alarmed Severus, he couldn't help but find endearing. Noble courage, unselfish bravery, was Gryffindor at its best, and it was good, not shameful. How could he NOT admire Hermione's bravery? How could Severus suppress or condemn it? Why did Slytherins always look down upon courage? How could they see it as stupid or wrong?

But here the werewolf paused uncomfortably. At school, his friends had favored other sorts of bravery-- the kind of that picked fights and broke rules for the sheer joy of it. Remus winced now at the hazard he, himself, had unintentionally become at the instigation of those friends. He also felt ashamed of how his beloved friends had persecuted the man in front of him simply because they thought it was "fun."

He sighed. No wonder Snape had such a bad opinion of Gryffindors and their courage. Many of them felt the highest form of bravery was fighting Slytherins! Even Remus had thought that way when he was young and foolish. But now he knew that his "good" friends had themselves done evil, and the man they had once branded "evil" had turned out to be good. And now, in this case, he felt the "good" thing to do might actually be bad. Snape's obvious "right" course of action could possibly end in harm.

Snape seemed to think he could keep Hermione safe by issuing orders, that he could force her to stay innocent simply by saying "no." But Hermione had a nasty habit of NOT wanting to stay innocent. There was a real possibility that by trying to keep her out of it, Snape would drive her to snoop on her own, and if she felt that it was necessary to get involved, no amount of orders would stop her! In attempting to save her, Snape might be spurring her on. The problem was trying to tell him that.

Remus knew he had made a blunder. He had said the wrong thing and given the wrong impression. Snape loved his wife. He loved her every bit as much as Remus loved his, but his passion had been sharpened to the point of pain by the one-sidedness of that love. It made him unreasonably possessive. He couldn't allow her freedom if it put her in danger. He couldn't let her follow her own instincts if it might mean losing her. Remus knew that if the worst happened and he lost Tonks, at least he would have the memory of their love, but Severus didn't have any such comfort.

If Snape lost Hermione there would be no memories of a happy, committed marriage. He didn't even have that now. Until the repeal of the Marriage Law, he would have nothing at all but what he could grasp of each day; and stubborn man that he was, he'd cling tight to whatever little he thought he did have-- never realizing until too late, that he had been driving it away... or perhaps even choking it. He wouldn't believe ( unless it hit him on the head ) that he could win or earn the love he craved.

At that moment, Snape was still standing with his back to Remus, hostility radiating from every stiff, unyielding line. He looked dangerous-- a man on the edge or like a wounded animal-- and he was both of those things. Severus had shown him a little of his pain. He had displayed weakness to someone he probably still hated. He was also righteously angry at what he perceived as betrayal.

Lupin had crossed a line by suggesting that Hermione help investigate-- and he hadn't meant it the way Snape took it. He wasn't advocating she do anything dangerous-- just some minor research. But he had said it all wrong, and now he was "the enemy". Snape wouldn't listen to him-- wouldn't be able to listen. He would erupt in unreasoning fury over any more Remus had to say about it. But he had to say something! He had to explain what his concerns really were. He had, at least, to apologize...

The smoldering silence was frustrating. What could he do? He had to break that silence, had to reestablish the connection. If only Snape weren't so difficult! If only they were friends, not just quasi-comfortable allies! Anything he said about Hermione now could push Snape over the edge. But perhaps he should try another subject, something neutral just to get them talking. Then he remembered something puzzling Snape had said a while back and seized upon it.

"Severus," he began. "You mentioned something earlier about Muggle hospitals."

"What?" Snape sounded distracted. Remus considered that a good sign.

"Muggle hospitals. You said I should take Tonks to one of them to have a baby."

Snape turned partially around. His face was almost hidden by obscuring black hair, but the black eyes peering from beneath it blazed with a touch of resentful envy. "Nymphadora is pregnant?"

Remus hesitated. He had noticed that touch of envy and had a feeling that even this topic was salt in a wound, but went on anyway. He had started it, and at least Snape was speaking to him.

"She may be. I don't know. We have been trying. Why a Muggle hospital?"

"To save her life, and I would caution you not to wait. Take her to a Muggle healer NOW, at the first discovery of pregnancy. That old saying you quoted: 'wizards die in duels, witches die in childbirth' is sick and stupid. No one should think like that. If you care about your wife at all you will listen to me."

Such unorthodoxy made Remus marvel, but he marveled also at the subtle change in Severus. The man's voice was still coldly harsh with snide overtones of resentful jealousy, but there was covert concern lurking in the dark, fathomless eyes. Lupin was secretly touched-- and surprised. Snape always acted like he didn't give a damn about him, but perhaps he actually did-- a little tiny bit.

"Why Muggles?" he asked, puzzled. "I don't understand. Aren't we wizards, Severus? Isn't magic superior? What can Muggles do that would be better than what we can do?"

For that he received an disdainful snort. "What can they do, Lupin? Everything, since we do nothing! Magic might be superior, but wizards don't use it in childbirth. They employ no magic at all even in instances of extreme emergency. All our magic is of no use, and we might as well not even have it for all the good it doesn't do us when we in are being born! Muggles, on the other hand, have a vast tradition of interventive technology. Muggles don't die in childbirth, or if they do, it's very rare."

"And how do you know all this?" Remus persisted. "You're as magical as I am. How did you suddenly become an expert it Muggle childbirth?"

Snape scoffed. "I can hardly be considered an expert. But I do have a wife with ties to the Muggle world, and she has already informed me that if she EVER becomes pregnant, she will hex any wizarding midwife who comes near her! Apparently, compared with current Muggle medicine, Wizard birthing methods are both backward and barbaric. We don't even use anything for pain."

Lupin frowned. "Well, there's a reason for that. From what I understand, magic isn't used during childbirth because of complications to the baby's magic. No one wants their child to be born defective, Severus. Witches take the risks they do out of love. They bear the pain because they have to."

Angry, coal-black eyes snapped at him. "Witches take those risks because no one knows any better! Would you risk Nymphadora's life for no reason? Would you wish her needless pain? My mother died in childbed, Lupin. She bled to death, and her unborn child died with her! I agree with Hermione. We are magic-obsessed. We do things from tradition, people die of it, and we accept these deaths far too easily!" He looked sideways at Remus. "We accept deaths from dueling far too easily as well."

"Well, I agree about the dueling. Wizards kill each other over stupid things. But I'm not so sure about Muggle healers. Don't they cut people up and sew them together again? That's barbaric!"

Snape's voice was quiet. "Cutting and sewing people may sound horrific, but it might have saved my mother. The technique in childbirth is called Caeserian Section, and powerful painkillers make the procedure possible. Muggles even have the means to detect danger to the baby before birth. They also have ways of saving infants born prematurely."

"But painkillers are supposed to cause harm to the baby's magic!"

"Magical painkillers," Snape drawled. "Muggles don't use magic, so in this case there is no problem."

Remus didn't make a reply. He couldn't imagine a way to stop pain without magic. Painkilling needed charms or potions. Skepticism must have shown on his face because Severus gave him a sneer.

"Oh, come, Lupin, the world outside isn't completely savage! Muggles do have brains, after all, and believe it or not, they're doing quite well without magic! They have non-magical chemicals and potions. They have technologies based on natural laws. None of their medicine will harm our magic."

"Can we be certain? Should we take a risk when it involves our children?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Think of all the Muggleborns, Lupin. You once insinuated that they all might be EXTRA gifted! At any rate, it is obvious that they are equal to any in our society, and none of them have been harmed by the circumstances of their births."

A feeling of hope dawned for Remus. He had been secretly worried about his wife's pregnancy. Remus was proud to embark on fatherhood but he did realize the danger. That these dangers might be avoided now gave him a peculiar sense of lightness. He bubbled with sudden enthusiasm.

"You know, you really might be right, Severus. I never thought of it before! Not that most wizards would... But Muggleborns do seem to have better than average abilities. Hey, maybe there's something good for magic in those Muggle birth customs! Maybe it helps the magic! You say they do something for pain? Maybe relieving pain helps the baby, or maybe it's just the relief of anxiety..."

A dark eyebrow quirked at him thoughtfully. "Anxiety. Interesting. That is a possibility..." Snape glanced sideways at him with a surprised, but ironic smirk. "Well, well. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but you do appear to be capable of reasoning... given the proper stimulus, of course."

Lupin ignored the barbed comment. Sarcasm was second nature to Snape. Besides, it actually seemed to be friendly sarcasm-- or about as friendly as Snape was likely to be. Suddenly Remus remembered the little play-insults he, James, and Sirius used to give each other, and he missed his youthful days painfully. He missed his old friends too. It truly was a lonely burden to be their group's sole survivor.

Which was why, of course, he was reaching out to Severus. He just couldn't help himself. Snape was part of his past, one of the few people still alive who was a link to it. Of course, Severus hadn't actually been his friend back then, but when he considered all the time and energy James and Sirius had spent on him, Snape almost seemed to have been a sort of "fifth Marauder." It was hard to remember any of those years without also remembering him.

But Snape's participation in their little group had been extremely unwilling. He hadn't found any of their battles fun, and as Lupin remembered, he had always had to fight them completely on his own. No one-- not even from Slytherin house-- had ever backed him up. The only person to defend him had been Lily-- and that only verbally. Severus had always stood alone, and Remus knew he had hated it.

Lupin hadn't been comfortable with his friends' treatment of Snape, but he had never had the strength or courage to stop it. Now he wished he had. So many tragic events might have been prevented had he done so! As it was, he just felt guilty. In the back of his mind, Remus had a bizarre hope that being Snape's friend now would atone for his past friends' cruelty. A silly idea. But the truth was that, outside of Tonks, he had no real friends-- certainly none his own age. Tonks was almost a generation younger than he was, and James Potter's son was younger still. At this point, all he had was colleagues who treated him with reserve because he was a werewolf. Lupin was very, very lonely.

"Where do you think I should find these Muggle healers?" he asked.

"Why not the same place Hermione has been going for birth control? Muggles use that clinic for birthing purposes as well as contraception. Nymphadora will have the advantage of already knowing where it is." He looked carefully at Lupin. "And it is also extremely affordable."

There was no snideness in Snape's tone when he mentioned affordability, and Remus was glad of it. He had long since learned not to be sensitive concerning his lack of means, but the condition did hurt. He couldn't help being a werewolf, but it made him virtually unemployable. In the past, Severus had made quite a few nasty remarks about it, but now, however, he was simply being matter-of-fact. Remus wished he could reward him, help him to get what he really wanted. He suddenly had an idea.

"So... you and Hermione are still pursuing Muggle birth control?"

"Yes, and so far it appears to be working."

"Well... ever think of stopping? Ever think of just letting her get pregnant?" Remus asked.

Snape looked indignant. "No, certainly not! Hermione's a student. She has to take the N.E.W.T.S., and she couldn't do that safely if pregnant. I have also promised her higher education. Having a child would not be in her best interest for at least a couple of years."

Lupin sighed. He was trying to be subtle, but Snape, the Slytherin, wasn't getting it.

"Look Severus. Forgive me for saying this, and please don't misunderstand me..." Wary black eyes locked on his. "But I know you love Hermione and you don't want to lose her. Well, women always feel something for the father of their children-- especially he is good to them. If Hermione has your baby, she'll probably stay with you. She'll feel connected. It will give her time to learn to love you."

The ironic eyes watching him turned perceptibly cold and the voice that answered was dangerously quiet. "And just what is it you think I should do Lupin, talk her into pregnancy or trick her into it?"

Remus felt suddenly uncomfortable. This wasn't going the way he expected. "Well, you wouldn't be the first man. All's fair in love and war, as they say."

Snape laughed-- a choking sound that was almost painful to hear since it was completely devoid of humor. "All's fair. Oh yes, they do say that, don't they? And a particularly Slytherin maxim it is! Interesting that a Gryffindor like you should bring it up. I never knew you had it in you."

He examined his fingernails dismissively. "Don't think the idea hasn't occurred to me because it has. More than once. It isn't, however, something I will do. Perhaps I'm not the essential Slytherin after all. I don't seem to possess the proper selfishness to pursue it." The implied reprimand stung.

"It's not selfishness to want to be loved." Remus felt he had to defend himself-- and explain himself too. "Hermione's a loving person. She will learn to love you in the end..."

Snape turned away. "You're a strange creature, Lupin. Wasn't it you who just told me that if I loved someone I should set them free? I'll never understand you. How can you advocate freedom in one instance and not in another? I may not give my wife the freedom to endanger herself, but I will NOT blackmail her into staying with me! Yes I care about Hermione-- enough not to force a bondage upon her with a man she does not love. You can't make someone love you. They either do or they don't."

Lupin knew he had made another blunder, and it only added to his guilt. Why had he been so sure that the ruthless-looking Snape would have jumped at any chance to hold onto his wife? Why had he even suggested it? Remus wished feverishly now that he hadn't, though it had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Snape loved Hermione-- loved her enough to risk her hating him for trying to keep her safe. He should have a chance at happiness-- even if it was a rather sneaky chance. Would either James or Sirius would have hesitated? No. The contrast between viewpoints was illuminating.

To say he had misjudged Severus was an understatement. He had completely misunderstood him. Which one of them now looked more noble? Which more honorable? Remus examined his conscience carefully. Did his offer of friendship spring from condescension? Had he really thought he was doing Snape a favor? He felt a flush of shame at the possibility. Remus had once felt sorry for Snape. He had even felt contempt for him. There had been many times he had consoled himself with, "I may be a werewolf, but at least I'm not Snape!" He winced now at the remembrance.

Severus always fought his battles alone, but he had never given up, never cried "uncle," no matter how many were arrayed against him, or what they ultimately did to him. Even alone he had been a match for two or more attackers, and years later, had never shirked an unpleasant duty or responsibility. This wasn't a man to envy necessarily, but he wasn't one to look down upon either. Lupin couldn't help the uncomfortable conviction that Severus Snape had turned out a much better man than he was...

"You know, Severus," a chastened Lupin ventured again softly. "I wasn't really suggesting you put Hermione into danger. That wasn't what I meant at all."

"Of course not." Snape's tone was bitterly scornful, and he had his back to Remus again. Lupin ignored the sarcasm and pressed on.

"I was only concerned that she's going to get into danger anyway. She's going to do it on her own. But if you gave her something small to do... kept her involved..."

Snape turned around, eyes intense. "What do you mean, she's going to do it on her own? I told her not to. I gave her strict orders! Are you saying she's going to disobey me behind my back?"

"You make her sound more like a servant than a wife, Severus," he couldn't help commenting.

"I don't CARE how you think I make it sound!" Here Snape sounded really exasperated. "I told you I am trying to keep her safe, and if I have to use my authority to do that, so be it!

"Look. I understand. I'm not saying you're not right, because you ARE right! But I also understand how Hermione thinks, how she is."

"Hermione respects authority. She always wants to do the right thing."

"That's true. She will want to do the right thing, but when has that ever stopped her from breaking rules or disobeying orders? It all depends on what she thinks is the right thing! Look how many times in the past she's flouted authority. Look how many dangerous situations she got herself into."

"That was Potter's fault!" Snape exploded. "He was always the instigator. But things have changed and she's no longer under his influence. Now, with my direction, her better nature will triumph."

"I don't know, Severus. She's a Gryffindor. She can't help trying to save the day-- especially if she thinks she can. If you don't include her she'll try to include herself. She might even be doing it now!"

For a moment Snape looked horrified. His sallow face took an even paler cast. "She wouldn't." he almost whispered, "She couldn't..." Then he seemed to recover himself a little. "No, she won't. I was smart enough to take precautions. It's why you're here, after all. Tonks is with her."

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Hermione walked with quick purpose, taking the opportunity to enjoy the Muggle surroundings. As much as she loved the Wizarding world, she often still missed the world she grew up in, the place that at gut level still felt like "home." The sight of cars, buses, traffic lights, and parking meters brought back scores of memories and a painful feeling of nostalgia. But even as she hurried down the London streets, it was with the mind and heart of an adult visiting a childhood scene. Though poignantly familiar, things were never the same. One could never go "home" anymore. She took the Tube to Oxford Circus, got out at Oxford Street, and made her way to Borders Bookstore.

Borders was not her favorite London bookshop. For research she preferred Grants and Cutler; the rare and hard to find, Simon and Finch's. She loved the exclusive air of Hatchards, the second hand texts at Skoobs, and for pure, eclectic, bibliophilic delight, there was no place better than Foyles... Borders was somehow... well the word kitsch came to mind. It was everything bright and modern-- everything trendy. Hermione, however, didn't usually care for the trendy. Trendy was often trite.

Not that it mattered today. Hermione was keeping an appointment, not really shopping. She would have preferred to set up a meeting at some eating establishment, but her husband's paranoia seemed to have rubbed off on her. She didn't know which London restaurant would be safest, and it wouldn't do to be spotted-- especially by someone unsavory... But no one-- wizard or otherwise-- would expect a meeting at a bookshop, and Borders was one with an eating place. It was also so glaringly Muggle. Hermione doubted any dark wizards would be lurking about inside.

The cafe was in the back, and Hermione walked past the tables of bargain books, the stacks of best sellers, and continued beyond the music section. She ordered a latte and a sticky bun and took a seat at a corner table. Presently someone approached her. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up and rose to meet the woman who had greeted her. "It's really Hermione Snape now since I'm recently married. But yes, I'm the person you're looking for. It's Mrs. Carr, isn't it?"

"Please call me Athena," the woman smiled, and they shook hands and sat down, for the moment doing nothing but settling themselves, arranging their food and lattes, and observing each other.

The woman who greeted Hermione with the shy, slightly hesitant smile was a surprise. She had been expecting someone far different. Since the tone of her letter had seemed formal, the impression that had come from it suggested coldness and disapproval. In the back of her mind she had pictured someone rather like her mother-- a brisk, business type woman in severe tweeds who didn't like magic and couldn't wait to be rid of of it. Hermione wasn't prepared for this friendly, very ordinary looking person. She couldn't help liking Athena Carr on sight.

"Thank you for meeting me in this sort of place," the woman began. "I've been to Diagon Alley, and I know how to get in..." She paused. "But I'm not exactly comfortable there. It's intimidating-- not just because I don't belong, but more because everybody there can do things that I can't. I feel unprotected, like I've gone out on a wettish day with no coat. Can you understand?"

Hermione nodded and sober thoughts filled her mind. That must have been how her parents felt when they had to go there to purchase her school things. As an excited, apparently selfish child, she hadn't given much thought to how they viewed those alien shops and the bizarre, rather frightening things they had to buy for her. She hadn't considered them because she had been caught up in her own joy. She had been asking question after question in her precocious, perky way, and she hadn't been thinking of her parents at all, except to simply assume they were happy for her.

"Diagon Alley can be a bit much," she said. "My parents didn't care for it either."

No they hadn't. She remembered now how her mother had looked at the purchase of some very creepy potion items. She recalled her father's unease in Ollivander's as he regarded the stacks of little wand boxes as if they were stacked up sticks of dynamite. Magic must have looked rather scary. Even mild, eccentric Arthur Weasley, with his ridiculous questions about Muggledom, had shocked them by fist-fighting in a bookshop-- and with one of the most sinister characters they had ever seen. No wonder they had turned against her magic in the end. Had she been in their place, how would she have felt?

"You wrote that you had some books and things that you wanted me to take," she ventured.

"Yes," the woman replied. "But just the textbooks. I've got them out in my car because there's far too many to carry in. They're no use at all to us, and we felt it would be best to donate them to needy wizards. Mum and I are keeping everything else-- her school letters and her robes... even some things that I think might be magical. It's... it's all we have left of her, you see. I wish we had her wand too, but that awful wizard she married kept that. It was the only thing of hers he did keep."

"Malfoy gave you back everything else?

"Oh yeah." The woman made a grimace. "We found it all dumped at our doorstep one morning-- trunks, books, clothes... everything she took with her when she got married. All except her wand. I suppose it was the only thing of hers he thought had value. I know none of us could have used it, and I suppose it's silly to wish we had it, but that wand was so much a part of her. She loved it.She used to sleep with it under her pillow when she was little. It would have been something to remember her by."

Hermione nodded in sympathy. How odd that this situation was nothing like what she envisioned She had expected a cold, hurried exchange in an environment of wary, hostility. She had expected to meet a woman who had rejected her dead friend because of magic. Somehow, she had instead found a grieving sister who had a grieving mother-- a person who cherished every last bit of their lost family member... even if those bits were also magical.

She wondered what her parents would have done had she died instead of them. Would they have saved her wizard things in remembrance? They certainly hadn't seemed eager to do that while she was alive. They had only seemed interested in things from her early life-- which they had preserved with almost anal care. Did they really hate her magic? Had they come to hate her because of it? Hermione recalled how she had tossed out so many of her parents' things at the Manor. Why had she done that? Was she rejecting them? Or was it because she had felt they had rejected her? She had a sudden sad remembrance of finding a funny little, blue, misshapen felt hat...

But she reminded herself that here it was Malfoy who had done the real rejecting. He had discarded everything about his poor wife, leaving it without courtesy, or a word of consolation, at the steps of her mother's house. The monstrousness of that callous act was sickening. No one deserved to be treated like that, to be used up like a thing with even the memories thrown away. Hermione was certain even Severus wouldn't do that if she were to die. He wouldn't... would he?

No, Severus may not love her, but he wasn't evil, and he wasn't even actually cruel. Malfoy was the very definition of evil, and he was certainly beyond cruel. Hermione was sure he was responsible for Jeanine's death, no matter what reports were to the contrary. She just knew it, and this new information from Mrs. Carr only made her more certain. Only the sort of man who could kill a woman pregnant with his own child was capable of tossing away all remnants of her without a backward glance.

"I did bring something for you, though. Something I think our Jeanine really wanted you to have."

"What is it?" Hermione was intrigued.

"It's a diary, a journal she wrote in while she was married. But there's something weird about it, something not right. She never wrote to any of us at all during the months of her marriage, but she wrote in this, and it doesn't even sound like her. I... I don't want to keep it. It gives me the creeps."

Chills shifted down Hermione's back at this until she herself had the creeps. A diary. That wasn't good. Tom Riddle had kept a diary, and it had almost killed Ginny. The book had housed a piece of his twisted soul, and that tiny echo had been responsible for a basilisk running wild, several people including herself being petrified, and school almost closing down. And now here was another diary turning up under odd circumstances, and this woman wanted to give it to her... She hesitated.

"Why me? Why would you think she'd want me to have it?"

"Because she mentions you in it. She wrote about you in it quite often."

Hermione shivered visibly.

"Oh, everything she writes is good. In fact everything she writes is TOO good. The whole book is about how happy she is in her marriage! But every now and then she mentions you and wishes you could know how happy she is. She doesn't do this with anyone else. Just you, and it's odd. That's why I think you aught to have it. Maybe she was trying to tell you something. Or maybe she really did just want you to know she was happy. After all, you've been stuck by this awful Marriage Law thing too..." she paused uncomfortably. "I know it's probably impertinent of me to ask, but... are you happy?"

The question caught Hermione off guard since she had been thinking about the diary, and she looked up rather startled, but she smiled. This poor woman only wanted to know if she was happy because she wanted to believe her sister might really have been happy-- a vicarious form of assurance. In this case, the truth wouldn't hurt. "Yes. I think so. Severus isn't the man I would have chosen, but I guess I am rather happy. As happy as I can be, all things considered. Can I see the diary?"

Mrs. Carr reached into a large handbag and pulled out a new, shiny hardbound volume. She put it on the table, and Hermione rose, carefully made sure no one was looking their way, and with her body blocking the view, let the tip of her wand protrude from her sleeve.

"Specialis Revelio!" she whispered, pointing her wand at the book. Nothing happened. A red flash of light emerged from her wand, but the book showed no evidence of anything weird. It didn't glow. It didn't scream. No mysterious runes appeared on it. For all intents and purposes, it was safe enough.

"What is it you're looking for?"

"Some sort of spell or curse aimed specifically at me."

"But Jeanine wouldn't do that!" Poor Mrs. Carr looked horrified.

"I know. But Malfoy would. It's just the sort of thing he would do. And he's used a diary against someone before. This one seems clean, however. I guess I was just being paranoid."

She smiled reassuringly, picked up the diary, and put it into her own purse. Then they both made their way out of the bookshop-- Hermione pausing to buy a Muggle physics book as she went-- and proceeded to the woman's parked car where the rest of the spell books were. She thanked Mrs. Carr again, wishing they could keep up a correspondence, but she realized it was most probably not feasible. Muggles and wizards didn't tend to associate, and that was sad. She felt it was time to break all these unwritten rules. She promised herself, as she shrank the books to fit neatly into her satchel, to keep the lines of communication open with Mr. Carr. Promising to send her an owl to let her know how her donations were used, Hermione hurried back to Diagon Alley with a feeling of accomplishment.

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Severus spared a narrow glance at Lupin who was fidgeting in his private rooms, and trying very hard not to look as if he were fidgeting. The man was an absolute irritant, but he he had to admit, as irritants went, he was probably well meaning. It had almost been laughable to watch him sadly compromise his honor and his rather dubious moral standards in that acrobatic display of foot-in-mouth... And why? To befriend him? Hell surely was freezing over-- or at least cooling up a bit. Did Lupin desire his friendship that badly? Could he really be that hard up?

Remus reminded Severus of a dog, unselfish loyalty written all over its eager little face. But Snape knew Lupin wanted more than just a pat. The werewolf sitting implacably before him wanted obligations-- the comfort and position of an alliance. He wanted to belong, and with the best of canine cunning was trying to make it happen. No homeless mutt could have done better. He was earnest, unassuming. He was playful. And like the hopeful stray, who persists in being friendly-- in just being there-- he never let up. Look at me. I'll be your friend. I'll fetch your slippers. I'll fetch anything else you want! It was weird, really weird.

And it was obviously all caused by guilt. Lupin always seemed to have guilt in his face and a slight unease in his stance whenever he was around him-- and well he should! After all, Snape couldn't look at Lupin without shuddering. The man had been a sycophant to a couple of swaggering bullies-- really dangerous fellows-- and he had never seen them for what they really were, so happy had he been to be in their company. He had been their faithful dog, even as Pettigrew had been their less than faithful rat. Severus would have rather have been damned than put himself in such a position.

Except, thought Snape wryly, he had done exactly that, and the result had almost been damnation. It was shameful to think about, to have to remember, but once he had been Malfoy's dog just as surely as Lupin had been James.' Once he had practically worshiped the older Slytherin, and Lucius had cultivated this. He had fostered a sort of condescending mentorship, though there had never been any real friendship involved. Snape had been a pawn-- someone useful. Lucius still felt that way-- the only difference now was that Severus was no longer interested in playing "fetch."

He became aware that he was being regarded with that look of guilt again-- a look that made Snape want to sniff the air for the scent of impending obligation. It was all so tiring, even if illuminating. Snape's own back had carried a healthy load of guilt for years, and he supposed he should be happy to see that load redistributed. But it was odd that there was far less comfort in it than he had supposed. Lupin was making ready to speak, and Snape found he didn't actually want to hear it.

"For what it's worth...umm... Snape... I want to say that I'm sorry about the way I acted when we were younger. The way James and Sirius treated you was wrong. The way I treated you was wrong."

Snape had often longed for an apology, some formal owning up to of blame, but now that he had it he found it didn't make him feel any better. He had known actually for years that Lupin was sorry. It was the reason he had let the werewolf into his private sanctum in the first place. He didn't need to hear it now. The problem with people apologizing was that you were rather obligated to forgive them. At least that was what what you were supposed to do. Did he want to? Could he? Oh hell... He sighed.

"I suppose the worst you ever did was nothing," he conceded, wondering why he was being so kind.

"I should have done something. But I didn't. I just didn't have the strength. James and Sirius... and Peter were my friends. I didn't want to lose them. I... well, you see, they were the only friends I had."

Severus remembered hanging out with Lucius and his cronies, doing things he knew were wrong, but doing them anyway because he was being included. He grudgingly made another concession.

"Strangely Lupin, I understand that. I'm not saying I like it or condone it, but I do understand."

"I shouldn't have acted that way. I should have been..."

His patience was fast becoming strained. He had tried to placate the werewolf, but just he kept on-- like a battering ram. And Snape didn't want to hear it. He didn't need to hear it. He didn't need to be bled on. He wanted to move on. Couldn't Lupin see? Well, Gryffindors, as always, were dense.

"And I want you to understand, that if I could do it all again..."

"Oh, Lupin stop. Just stop! If there's one thing I've learned in all my miserable years, is that human frailty is universal. There isn't a single one of us exempt. I'm no more exempt than you are and I've done my share of causing hurt-- the difference being that in this case you weren't on the receiving end of most of my errors. Forget it. Just forget it. I've done worse than you." There. He had said it.

"But I feel I'm somewhat responsible..."

"Do you?" Snape countered with scathing scorn. "Well, much as I would love to heap the blame on you, the sad truth is I can't! We all have choices, Lupin. And we make them. Even when I didn't think I had any choices, I always knew at a very deep level that I did-- and I CHOSE to ignore it. Believe me, if anyone deserves credit for leading me down the poisoned path, you would be late on the list! Any predisposition I had for making wrong choices didn't come from you."

"I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

Snape had reached the end of his tether.

"Is expiation of guilt the only reason you've been seeking my company?" he demanded harshly.

"No!"

"Well good! Penitence may be mildly entertaining at first but it becomes a bleeding bore after a while. Water under the bridge needs to flow or it starts to stink, Lupin." He sent the man a blistering glare.

The werewolf smiled at him. "Truce, Snape?" He just never let up.

Severus tightened his lips a little. "I'll consider it." When hell froze over. Or maybe it just did...

"I'd really like us to be friends."

There was the dog again, looking up at him with expectant, needy eyes, waiting patiently, eagerly for favor. Snape had never been a dog person. They were social animals, and he was a loner; he didn't know all the intricate social cues to function in a pack. That was the reason he didn't mingle, why he kept to himself, to his dungeon and his books, the reason he had difficulty relating to his wife. He didn't like associating with dogs, human or otherwise. They needed so much attention, so much work.

Yet a lone dog became a wolf. And wolves caused nothing but trouble... Snape sighed. Perhaps he should consider Lupin a friend. After all, it never hurt to have friends, and the only one he had thus far-- if he discounted Hermione-- was Lucius. With friends like that, there was no need for enemies. Besides, there was some sort of poetic justice in allowing Remus Lupin as his friend. Perhaps it would make up for all the pain James and Sirius caused. Besides, the man wouldn't take no for an answer...

"You do understand that I'm not the chummy type, don't you?" he warned. "I probably never will be. However... If you still insist upon counting me among your friends, I don't suppose I can stop you. Just don't expect me to be anything other than what I am." A bastard... with a heart.

"That's good enough for me."

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"Where have you been! I've been looking all over for you!" Tonks was absolutely livid, and her hair was such a lurid shade of bright, flaming red that it almost fried the eye.

"I was at a bookshop," Hermione ventured defensively.

"The HELL you were! I've been to all the booksellers. No one had even seen you there! I even checked Knockturn Alley. So don't tell me you were shopping for books. Don't lie to me!"

Hermione felt stricken. She hadn't lied-- well, not really. She had only stretched the truth. "But I did go book shopping. See?" She held up her shopping bag and took out the physics book. Tonks eyes almost burst from her head. Electric blue stripes flashed in her hair.

"BORDERS! YOU WENT OUTSIDE! What in the world were you thinking? I'm supposed to be taking care of you. What if you disappeared and I couldn't find you? I thought you were my friend. I guess I was wrong."

Tears came into Hermione's eyes. She had never imagined this furious reaction. It had never occurred to her. In all her planning, she hadn't really considered how it would affect Tonks. Hermione felt suddenly ashamed, very lonely, and more than a little afraid. She couldn't afford to lose another friend.

"I'm so sorry, Tonks. I just didn't think--"

"I'll say!" Angry eyes snapped at her and Hermione broke down.

"Oh, please don't be so mad at me! I just had to get out! Severus won't talk to me. He treats me like a child! He won't tell me what's going on, and it just drives me crazy. I should have confided in you, I know I should, but I was afraid you'd take his side and say no. And I'm just tired of being treated like a baby and having to be watched. Oh, please, forgive me!"

The auror sighed, and her bright hair dulled to a slightly more brownish red, but she still looked stern, and very hurt, even as she patted Hermione awkwardly on the shoulder.'

"Now, now. You know I won't stay mad. You didn't really do anything on purpose to hurt ME. But you didn't think! You were selfish. What would have happened to me if we couldn't find you? What would I say to Severus?"

"I don't know why he would be all that upset," Hermione sniffed sarcastically. "He only sees me as an obligation anyway. It's not like he cares." She couldn't help the pitiful note that crept in.

The glance Tonks gave her was veiled and shrewd. "An obligation he has sex with?"

"Well... um, yeah...that."

"Oh, don't kid yourself, 'Mione. Snape cares more for you than you think he does. He might not be in love with you the way Remus loves me, but it's obvious you're not just a burden to him. Why else would he send me with you when you come here to the Alley? He worries. He even puts up with my husband while we're shopping, and you know they don't get along. I'd sure hate to think what he'd say if he knew you were out in Muggle London without me."

"Tonks! You're not going to tell him are you?" For the first time Hermione sounded scared.

"Course not! Are you crazy? I like my skin on my body, thank you! He'd pickle me and put me in one of those awful specimen jars in his office and label it, "Defective Auror." YOU would only get a lecture. A damn good one too!"

"Yeah, he treats me like I'm two," Hermione grumbled disconsolately.

Tonks looked at her seriously. "You might not want to hear this, Hermione, but I think your husband has a point. Playing tricks and sneaking out of the Alley is not mature. If this is the way you behave, I don't blame Snape for not trusting you. Respect has to be earned, you know."

"But Harry always went out on his own and everyone was always fine with it. HE got respect!"

"Well, Harry Potter got away with a lot of things because of who he was, and we weren't all fine with it. Most of us thought he behaved like an idiot when he dragged you all with him on that Ministry raid! There are plenty of people who believe Dumbledore indulged him too much. He had privileges none of you other kids had."

"That's what Severus thinks. But we did things! Good things! We defeated Voldemort, didn't we?"

"Only with help. And it easily could have gone the other way. All of you could have been killed at any time during the last few years. Listen Hermione, you might be of age, but you're still only eighteen. You're still in school. I hate to say it, but I do agree with Snape. If he's doing something he doesn't want you to help with, he probably has very good reasons."

"He's got secrets he won't tell me. He won't let me help."

"Thank Merlin, Hermione! At least he's showing that much care. I think you should treat him better and appreciate that care-- at least until you are out of school. Look, promise you'll at least tell ME before you do anything stupid..."

Hermione nodded. She wished she could tell Tonks about the diary, but she didn't really think she could. If there was even the slightest chance that the book had sinister qualities, the auror would confiscate it, and she'd never get a chance to see what her poor lost friend had been writing. She'd also didn't want to let it slip that she had told even more lies... With a gut sick from buried guilt, Hermione followed Tonks back to Hogwarts.

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Thanks to all my readers for keeping up with me. I know my updates are slow in coming, but my chapters are long, so I hope that's a consolation! Much is going on in my life, and it makes sitting down to write a bit hard, but I've not given up on my stories. I am truly hoping to see this one through to the end. Love to you all!