Voldemort's Assassin - Chapter 36
The Clock is Ticking: 37 hours to Assassin's Deadline
The counter to the curse sounded like "drunken Welsh on a foggy night" to Hermione, and her tongue continued to trip over the words. Such practice had taken Hermione back to Hogwarts when she constantly corrected Ron's pronunciation of many of the charms they were learning in Charms class.
"God I was a little insufferable, know-it-all, swot," sighed Hermione under her breath as Severus corrected her pronunciation once again.
"Hermione?" asked Severus. He was not aware of how she, as a student, had shown off in Charms class. He was familiar with the insult she had whispered to herself since he had been the one to coin it.
The witch dropped her head in her hands, her elbows on the library table. "How come this is so hard, Severus? I'm better than this. I taught myself French when I was 12!"
Severus sat down beside her. "I realise I have rarely given you a verbal indication of what I think of your intelligence, and skills, Hermione..."
"You never did, Severus," Hermione interrupted bluntly. "You made me feel like I was a born idiot. I never felt stupid before your class." Her gaze was hurt, and Severus sighed heavily. He started to reach out to her but stopped. He was surprised when she caught his hand. "I won't say it didn't hurt, Severus, because it did. Everything you did to me, and to Ron and Harry... no good teacher would have been as hateful as you were. I know, now, that you didn't have a choice. To have ever been kind to any one of us, any student not a Slytherin, would have been a death sentence to you."
"It still does not excuse what I did, Hermione. I was... cruel..." He bent his head in shame as he recalled the year that Draco had cast a spell to elongate her front teeth.
His nasty condemnation of 'I see no change' had broken the girl, and caused her to weep. Hermione had gone silent, and studious in his class from that day forward. She never spoke up out of turn, and accepted her points losses (whether they were deserved or not) with quiet submission. He had bullied many students like that but somehow he knew he had plumbed an even greater depth of shame with her, and he had felt something harden in him to cover his own hurt for the child.
Why had she mattered? he wondered to himself.
"Severus," asked Hermione slowly, "If the war were truly ended, and no one had to worry about Berger, would you treat a child so harshly again?"
He shook his head sharply. "I would not. I did not want to then but I... there was no..."
"You didn't have a choice, Severus. Unfortunately we were children, and we did not understand." Hermione pushed the parchment away that Severus had written the spell and counter-spell on. "Let's go for a walk. I'm tired of this, and need a break."
Hermione nudged her hand with his, and he curled his fist around her fingers. "Allow me to show you my garden."
Hermione smiled up at Severus as they left the library. "You have a garden?"
Severus nodded, and gave her that tiny, secret smile he reserved just for her.
Severus' Garden - The Clock is Ticking -32 hours to deadline
The garden that Severus tended with his own hands, and no magic, was a plot of rich land nestled around a gazebo of stained oak. A circle of leaf laden trees grew tightly together, and circled the garden, shaded the land in an atmosphere of lush moisture. Hermione smelled the aroma of earth, the scent of many different herbs, and even that of flowers. She was delighted to hear the contented twittering of songbird.
Severus had not simply planted without a sense of design. Each herb, plant or flower grew where it was needed, and small paths of flat, unevenly broken sandstone, wove in and out it all. Here and there along those paths were benches of granite to rest upon. It was a pleasant oasis, and the Potions Master was proud to show his accomplishment to Hermione who in turn asked him questions that kept him talking.
Hermione recalled when she was in the wizard's class and he lectured she loved hearing his voice. He irritated her hundreds of times, but as she grew older she came to appreciate the velvet tones that could cut as easily as soothe. These days he tended not to maim with his voice, and when he spoke of potions and his garden he did so as a man who was not just prideful, but enjoyed sharing his knowledge with another who appreciated it.
The witch had long felt so unsettled in her life, and she often tried to talk to herself encouragingly when Harry was not about. She, the 'brightest witch of her age' had fallen so far in the eyes of witches and wizards that were not Muggle-Born that sometimes it was all she could do to keep from crying in her frustration.
Lucius had given her a home, his friendship, and Severus had not only given her a job but had taken her as his apprentice for no charge. Willingly he passed on his knowledge, and skill, and in turn he listened to her questions; he listened to her.
With hands still clasped they reached the gazebo, and sat within it upon a wooden bench that was attached to the lower wall around the structure. For a moment Hermione leaned her cheek against Severus shoulder. After several minutes she reluctantly pulled away.
"I know that the... kiss... is on your mind, Severus. Talk to me?" she asked gently.
Severus lightly cleared his throat, and he pointedly looked over her shoulder, "You did not... mind it?" Severus' knuckles had gone white with how hard he clasped his hands together in his lap.
"Ohhh, noooo..."
Severus interrupted, "That is good, then. You should not have a problem with that part of the counter-spell."
"Is that all?" Hermione asked with some disappointment. "Don't you want to kiss me again, Severus?"
"I will have no trouble bearing the... act... if you shall not..." His voice trailed off as he caught the beginnings of a storm crossing her eyes.
"Bearable? The... act?!" Hermione shoved his shoulder and then stood. "Is that all you thought of while kissing me, that it was "bearable"?" She turned away, and ran down the path to vanish amongst the foliage.
Severus touched his shoulder, and stared after her. He admitted to himself that he had enjoyed the kiss but he had convinced himself he was sure Hermione had only kissed him in practice. And, because Lucius the Lecher had goaded them. Her Gryffindor chivalry would not want him to sacrifice his life for the assassin. She would do whatever was needed to keep him alive. He was certain that what he had felt when kissing her was nothing more than her proving herself. He was certain she would not want to ever kiss him again.
Was he wrong?
"You are an idiot."
Severus, startled, spun to find Lucius lurking with one foot on the step to the entrance of the gazebo.
"Eavesdropping is beneath you, Lucius," muttered Severus.
"So it is, Severus," agreed Lucius darkly. "However, my future lies in that bastard's hands - probably being hexed or cut - while you two argue about what neither of you will face."
"I have no idea what you are talking about, Lucius," denied Severus stiffly.
"As the Muggles say, 'de-Nile is a river in Egypt'," the aristocrat frowned. "I honestly have no idea what that means." He shook his head. "Normally I would not push, and I would let the two of you work this out for however long you desired, but Julia has 31 hours left to live; if she is still alive. So... I know you are completely besotted with Hermione; evidence of your babbling to me about her over dinner or in the evening when she is in her room." Lucius smirked, but there was no humour. He could not get his worry of his Julia out of his mind.
"Perhaps," Severus ground out grudgingly. "I seriously doubt that Hermione feels at all the same way," the wizard's fingertips touched his lips as he still could feel her lips against his.
"And there is where you are wrong, my friend, my brother. Terribly wrong," Lucius sighed. "Like you, Hermione chatters to me with abandon about your intellect, your grace as you brew, how lucky she was to have found you, and to have you share your knowledge with her." He stepped into the gazebo, and loomed over the younger wizard, "Not to mention that the kiss she gave you proves my words. Now get up, go after her, take her in your arms, and let her know precisely how you feel."
Severus stared up at Lucius, then pushed him aside as he stood. He tugged down upon his waistcoat, and paused in the gazebo doorway. Lucius pushed him so that he stumbled down the two wooden steps. Severus glared back at the man whose arms were crossed, and he glared stonily. "One hour, Severus. Meet me in the entrance hall in one hour, and we shall portkey to Riddle Cemetery."
Severus glanced at the old silver-snake headed cane that once hid Lucius' old wand of stripped pine that had been broken by Voldemort in front of all the Death Eaters. "Riddle Cemetery? Is that where he is?"
"I received a message..." Lucius rubbed his arm where his old Death Mark was as a white scar. "Do not ask me how he knows how to manipulate this Mark, Severus. The fact is Berger can. So, go to Hermione. I want Julia, and my child with me. Safe."