Pride of Time

by Anubis Ankh

Hermione quite literally crashes her way back through time by roughly twenty years. There is no going back; the only way is to go forward. And when one unwittingly interferes with time, what one expects may not be what time finds...

37. Chapter 37

A/N: This week will be a M/Th posting, and if possible, F.

Enormous thanks to my super-awesome beta, SSB!

Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.

Please review!

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The following Tuesday found Hermione, Harry, and Ron together in Herbology, with Harry recounting his latest lesson with Dumbledore. He described the memory they had gone into the previous night in vivid detail, and Hermione pressed him for specific descriptions of what Tom Riddle had been like as a child, thinking that this might prove to be helpful in understanding his adult self. The information she got did and didn't come as expected; on one hand, Harry's words made it clear that the Dark Lord had magpie-like tendencies, which Hermione filed away as useful information for later.

On the other hand, she could not help but be reminded of Selenius. The way Harry described it, Voldemort had grown up in an orphanage. His mother, Merope, had died shortly after giving him his name. He was a frighteningly precocious but malignant user of magic even before he acquired a wand, and furthermore, he was alone and friendless.

None of that described Selenius, of course; Selenius was good-natured and friendly. He excelled at magic, but had learned to use it responsibly. He enjoyed intellectual challenges, and had mastered the art of making his expression smooth and blank when necessary, mimicking his father most notably in that regard. Most importantly of all, her son was loved. Hermione had made sure of that.

But Hermione could still not help but wonder how her son would have turned out in a place like the orphanage Riddle had grown up in. She remembered what Severus had been like as a teenager, and it was not a far cry to guess what kind of child he had been. It was difficult to convince herself that if for whatever reason, she had been in Merope's position, that her son would turn out half as good a person as he was today. Upbringing counted for a lot, and as a mother, it was difficult for Hermione to not feel pity for Riddle's child-self, and fear that things could have turned out very differently for her own son had the circumstances been different.

They were the kind of fretful worries and fears that never amounted to anything. Hermione had done her utmost to ensure that her son would grow up with as much love and affection as possible, and it showed in his cheerful, vivacious countenance. The fact that Riddle had not was, in Hermione's opinion, only a contributing factor to his personality and egotistical issues.

"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," Ron said quietly, interrupting Hermione's thoughts as they gathered around the Snargaluff stump that they would be working with that day. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"

"Dunno," Harry said, inserting his gum shield, "but he says it's all important and it'll help me survive."

"I think he's right," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about the Dark Lord as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses? Or his tendencies, come to that, underlying patterns of behavior—"

"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked her thickly through his gum shield.

"Oh—well, it was quite fun, really," Hermione said, thrown off by the sudden change of subject. She began pulling her protective goggles on. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."

"Gwenog Jones?" Ron said, eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies? Why wasn't I here for this one?"

"Quidditch practice," Hermione said, with a nod at Harry. Harry had been scheduling practice sessions whenever Slughorn invited him, and as a member of the team, Ron was required to participate—which essentially meant that though Ron was eager to attend the parties, and Slughorn had begun sending him invitations, he was rarely able to attend unless Harry came up with a more original excuse than Quidditch. Interestingly, Harry had been forced to serve two more detentions under Severus's authority, which had allowed Ron to attend the parties scheduled on those weekends. But still, Hermione was finding herself annoyed with Harry's inconsideration on the matter—although truth to be told, she could understand it. Harry had enough on his plate without dealing with Slughorn's attempts to add him to his jeweled collection of famous pupils.

"Bugger," Ron said, crestfallen.

"Quite enough chat over here!" Pomona called to them sternly. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started!"

"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" Ron said, and then added quietly, "Should've used Muffliato, Harry."

"No, we shouldn't," Hermione said crossly, as she always did whenever Harry and Ron attempted to use any of the spells from the Half-Blood Prince's book. Of course, she knew the spell herself, but on principal, she was trying to discourage Harry's—and Ron's—attachment to the book. "Well, come on… we'd better get going…"

The three of them exchanged apprehensive looks, and then dove for the gnarled stump that had otherwise been sitting innocently between them. It sprang to life at once, shooting long, prickly, bramble-like vines out at them and through Hermione's hair, attempting to strangle anyone else close enough for it to get a grip on. Five minutes later, cut and scratched and looking as though they had just gotten into a fight with a Devil's Snare, the three of them backed away, a single pulsating green pod the size of a grapefruit held between them. Hermione took a moment to painfully yank a vine out of her hair with a wince, and it snapped back, flying quickly back into the stump. The snargaluff shuddered for a moment, and then grew still.

"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," Ron said, pushing his goggles up his forehead and wiping his face.

"Pass me a bowl," Hermione said at once, holding the snargaluff pod at arm's length. Harry pushed one over, and she dropped it in before passing it to Ron, who began attempting to burst the pod by placing both hands over it and pressing down with a grimace of disgust.

"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" Pomona called.

"Anyway," Hermione said, continuing their conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attempted to strangle them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."

Harry groaned. Ron looked up at Hermione, still attempting to squeeze the pod to its bursting point, and frowned. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

"You haven't exactly been showing up much," Hermione said, pursing her lips and turning to look at Harry. "Not your fault, really, because of Quidditch practice, but—"

"I don't suppose I'm invited, then," Ron said glumly.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you're invited," Hermione said. "At the very least, all you have to do is let Slughorn know you're free. He knows you're on the Quidditch team, and that you've been practicing like Harry—"

The pod suddenly flew out from under Ron's fingers, bounced off the greenhouse glass, and rebounded onto the back of Pomona's head. Her patched hat was knocked off and so Harry went to retrieve it. Hermione continued, "You're fine, Ron. Anyway," she added brightly, "we're allowed to bring guests."

Ron's expression suddenly went slack. "That's it, isn't it?"

"What?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"You've—Slughorn hasn't been inviting me, he's been inviting you, and you've always been asking me to come along—"

"I asked you along the first time," Hermione said, bewildered, "but he's been asking you separately every other time. Why? What's the problem?"

Ron turned red. "Nothing. It's just—if we're allowed to bring guests—but you're already going…"

Harry reappeared at that moment, dropping the pod back into the bowl. He began trying to open it rather noisily, banging it against the table, as though trying not to listen in on their conversation. Hermione stared uncomprehendingly at Ron for a moment, not quite understanding what he was getting at.

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but at the last moment, shook his head. "Never mind," he snapped, suddenly irritated, although it seemed to be more at himself than Hermione. A bit bitterly, he said, "Maybe you should just hook up with McLaggen—"

"Actually," Hermione said, a bit stiffly, her face scarlet, "I was going to ask you if you wanted to go with me. As friends."

"You were going to ask me?" Ron said, in a completely different voice.

"Yes," Hermione said, still red-faced, "but if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen…"

Harry had started clanging the bowl noisily, and now reached for a trowel, and had begun banging the pod with it, in obvious effort to drown out their conversation.

"No, I wouldn't," Ron said quietly.

Hermione stared at him, and suddenly, she understood. All those things that had seemed petty over the years to her—especially in the days surrounding the Yule Ball in fourth year, and their conversations about Harry's relationship with Cho—now made startling clear sense to her.

She glanced down at her ring, which none of them could see, but which glinted brightly at her in the misty morning sunlight. Oh, merlin's sweet teapot. No.

Harry missed the pod, ended up smacking the bowl with the trowel, and shattered it. Hermione and Ron jumped, and he hastily repaired the bowl with a wave of his wand, but just like that, the discussion was over. Hermione was flustered for a moment, and then fumbled around for her book on Flesh-Eating Trees of the World. Ron looked sheepish yet somewhat pleased with himself as he went to retrieve his goggles.

Harry was giving her a look that plainly said, I don't believe this.

Hermione glared at him. While Ron's back was to them, she hissed at him, "It is not happening."

"Good," Harry shot back quietly, passing the bowl to her before going to retrieve his goggles. He adjusted his gum shield once, and then he and Ron dived back down again at the stump to retrieve another pod.

The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's party, or anything else of a sensitive nature having to do with emotions, hooking up, or invites. Hermione continued to firmly avoid such discussions over the next few days. In a way, she felt like an idiot for not having seen it earlier; but Ron was like a brother to her at best, a trusted friend's youngest son at least, and she just could not see him that way even if she were not already married. But the signs had been obvious, if a bit blurred after a twenty-year's distance between them, and now she wondered how she was going to dissuade Ron. She wished she had not made that comment about McLaggen, even in jest.

Fortunately, in some ways, he was like Remus; a bit too shy to come out into the spotlight to say what he really thought, which might potentially prevent any actual declarations of interest. If she just pretended she didn't see the signs, acted as though he were a friend and nothing more, it would pass. She was sure of it.

Thankfully, the next few days seemed to prove her right, and Hermione put the incident out of her mind. She had more pressing issues to concern herself with, anyway; she had not seen Severus outside of class since last Hogsmeade weekend and the issue with Katie Bell, and though he was handing in his reports with her homework, and they often had a total of five minutes during class to make eye contact, Hermione was concerned about the Dark Lord's movements. He was not summoning Severus often—on the contrary, he did not seem to be summoning Severus at all. And the problem was neither of them seemed to be able to tell whether this was because of the Dark Lord's confidence in him or lack of it.

It also meant they did not have a good idea of the Dark Lord's movements. Lessened contact meant Severus was safer, in a way, but his job as a spy was not to be safe; and as of right now, it was providing their side with very little. To top it off, Dumbledore was either so busy or too often absent that they never had a chance to arrange a time to meet with him so that both Hermione and Severus could be present to discuss the situation.

Hermione had a good idea of Severus's value to the Dark Lord. Severus had come to him as an angry teenager, easily manipulated by his affection for Lily and his bitterness and paranoia toward the world at large. He was intelligent and cunning, and had proven useful in keeping the Dark Lord abreast of Dumbledore's movements. And yet, he was not the most trusted of the Dark Lord's followers, if 'trust' was a good word to apply to Voldemort's view of his followers. He had been brought into the fold as a spiteful, angry adolescent; he was not a cold, ruthless Muggle-hater like his fellows. He had talents that Tom Riddle thought useful, which were likely what kept him alive.

But his position among the Death Eaters was precarious. It could be cemented, and was almost guaranteed to be by the end of the year, but until then, Severus had to play a game of careful balance. As his handler, Hermione had to watch and manipulate the game from above and behind. It was not a pleasant arrangement—but then, war never was. But the wrong impression could get Severus killed in an instant, which was what had Hermione fretting so much.

And yet, the fact that the Dark Lord was, perhaps, indicating to Severus that he trusted him enough to leave him to his own devices could be a good sign, if that were indeed the message Tom Riddle were sending him.

An incident at the breakfast table before a Quidditch match involving the fake use of Felix Felicis was hardly something to be concerned about, but it did cause whatever amiable relationship Hermione had had with Ron to suddenly fall apart. She frankly had more important things to worry about, but in regards to handling Harry, Ron had been her reliable ally. Now the two of them were barely on speaking terms with her. The underlying issue between them had nothing to do with Quidditch, yet that was what it had broken down over. Hermione was weary and exasperated with it all.

But what quite possibly made the entire situation worse was that she considered Ron a friend. A friend she had personal issues with, but a friend all the same. And yet, right after the match, he had immediately started snogging Lavender Brown at the party following Gryffindor's defeat of Slytherin… thrown the other girl in her face, really… it was clear to Hermione that this was more a form of revenge for Ron over their earlier argument in the greenhouse rather than any actual attraction to Lavender. Hermione did not care about his romantic interest, but it was the way that they had gotten together that irked her—she did not like to see Ron using Lavender to get to her. Lavender didn't deserve to be dragged into their petty fight.

It was just hurtful. She was still feuding with Harry over the damn book, and now with Ron over the fact that she wasn't snogging him instead. She left the party early, wanting nothing more than to find an empty classroom and have a good cry, if to at least relieve the tension piling up on her from all sides. Even she had her breaking point, when she needed to stop bottling it up and let it all out, and yet—and yet— she simply could not right now. Stuck in the body and life of a nineteen-year-old was playing ruddy hell with her sense of emotional equilibrium.

It actually made her consider whether it might be worth letting the issue of Severus's book go, at least for now, if it meant having a friend she could laugh and talk to again.

Hermione's schedule meant she was so busy during the week that, in the days leading up to Slughorn's Christmas party, she could only talk with Harry properly in the evenings. She refused to stay in the common room while Ron and Lavender were sucking each other's faces off, and therefore spent most of her time in the library—which was, incidentally, where Harry found her one evening.

"He's at perfect liberty to kiss whoever he likes," Hermione told Harry one evening, when he had raised the issue of Lavender and Ron with her again. "I really couldn't care less. I just don't like the fact that he's using her to try and get to me."

And this was the truth. She didn't like Ron that way. But she was quite fed up with him throwing Lavender in her face, and that he was leading Lavender on with the misimpression that he liked her more than he actually did. It was dishonest and juvenile. But Harry seemed to think it was an issue of unrequited love on both sides, and had not yet let the matter drop.

"And incidentally," Hermione said, changing the subject, "you need to be careful."

"For the last time," Harry said, lowering his voice because Madam Pince was now prowling the shelves behind them, looking for an excuse to throw them out, "I am not giving back this book, I've learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in—"

"I'm not talking about that!" Hermione said, giving Harry a deservedly sour look. "At this point, I don't care anymore. I really don't. You can keep your stupid book. But I'm talking about earlier, when I went into the girls' bathroom just before coming here, and there were about a dozen girls in there—Romilda Vane included—who were all deciding on how they were going to get you to take one of them to Slughorn's party. It seems they've all bought Fred and George's love potions, which I'm afraid to say probably work—"

"Why didn't you confiscate them then?" Harry demanded, looking horrified at this seeming lapse of duty.

"They didn't have the potions with them in the bathroom," Hermione said scornfully. "They were just discussing tactics. As I doubt whether even the Half-Blood Prince could dream up an antidote for a dozen different love potions at once, I'd just invite someone to go with you, that'll stop all the others thinking they've still got a chance. It's tomorrow night," she reminded him. "They're getting desperate."

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," Harry mumbled.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him; it was quite obvious that he was lying. "Well, just be careful what you drink, because Romilda Vane looked like she meant business."

She packed up her bag and made to leave, when Harry stopped her.

"Hang on a moment," he said slowly. "I thought Filch had banned anything bought at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

Hermione closed her eyes in consternation, and then proceeded to explain it to Harry.

~o~O~o~

Hermione ended up going to Slughorn's party alone.

Cormac McLaggen had asked her to go with him, but Hermione had flatly turned him down. She did not know whether Ron and Lavender would be there, but if they were, she did not intend to stay for long. Harry had asked Luna to go with him, which Hermione thought was a good choice all things considered, and when she arrived at Slughorn's party on the night, she was the only one who did not seem to be going around with a smile on their face. She had almost considered not going at all, but thought it would be rude to simply not show up at the last minute—and in truth, though she did need the night off, she still needed to keep an eye on the going-ons at the school.

But when she got to the party, she found that the evening was destined to be interesting, if nothing else. The first person she ran into was Eldred Worple who was accompanied by another very familiar face. Tall, emaciated-looking, and with dark shadows under his eyes, Sanguini did not fail to give her what passed for a bright smile on a dead-looking face.

Hermione stared at him wordlessly for a moment, and then held out her hand. "I'm glad to see you made it out alive," she said quietly.

Worple stared at her in astonishment for a moment, and then looked at Sanguini. The vampire shook her hand slowly, and then turned to look at his human companion.

"She looks just as I remember."

"Twenty years ago—!" Worple exclaimed, looking back at her.

"Not aged a day," Sanguini agreed solemnly.

Hermione leaned in so that only they could hear her next words. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that to anyone else here," she murmured.

"Of course, of course," Worple said. He was a small, stout, bespectacled man whose geniality and enthusiasm somehow reminded Hermione of Slughorn still. "But I never got around to thanking you for what you did… hiding him, you know, how much I appreciate that…"

"My pleasure," Hermione said with a smile. "Although I have to ask—what are you doing here? I'm just surprised that you'd come back here, especially in the current political climate…"

"Ah," Worple said, his manner suddenly businesslike. "Yes, indeed. Professor Dumbledore asked if we might pay him a visit, and so—here we are."

"I… see."

"He expects us up in his office later," Worple continued, peering up at her shortsightedly. "You are Hermione Granger, aren't you?"

Hermione stared at him. "Yes."

"He wants you up there, too. Along with your… husband, I think it was?"

Hermione's head snapped to both sides quickly, checking for eavesdroppers, but she need not have; the party was so crowded, so loud, so busy, that no one was paying them any attention at all. "Yes, although I'd advise you to keep quiet about that, too."

Worple and Sanguini both nodded. Sanguini was eyeing her through narrowed eyes, his gaze considering. Hermione had the impression that he was assessing her, his curiosity piqued by the reality behind the girl who had saved him then, and the girl who should have been much older, but was still, according to all appearances, just a girl now. Undoubtedly, he was baffled, but interested.

There was a sudden commotion, and Hermione turned around in time to see Slughorn standing next to Harry and the Divination teacher and, with a slight hiccup, said, "—instinctive, you know—like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill—why even Severus—"

And to Hermione's ensuing horror, he seemed to throw an arm out and grab hold of Severus's shoulders out of nowhere, pulling him into the conversation.

"Stop skulking and come join us, Severus!" Slughorn hiccuped happily, ignoring the black look on his fellow Potion Master's face. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Severus looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed rather like Sanguini's.

"Funny," he said softly, "I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."

"Well, then, its natural ability!" Slughorn shouted. Hermione grimaced, glancing at Sanguini, who seemed highly amused more than anything else. "You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death—never had a student produce a finer first attempt—except for Miss Granger, of course," he said with another hiccup. "I don't think even you, Severus—"

"Really?" Hermione's husband said quietly, looking at Harry with an expression that told Hermione he knew exactly where Harry was tapping his genius from.

Hermione turned to look at Sanguini and Worple. "I'll see you later, I suppose."

Sanguini gave her a solemn half-bow. Worple was too busy waving an elf for a pastry to notice. Without another word, Hermione slipped away into the crowd, edging closer, hoping to break up the disaster waiting to happen.

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror," Hermione heard Severus say, and there was the faintest trace of a sneer to his words.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," Harry said defiantly, no doubt bolstered in confidence by the fact that they were at a party, and not in the classroom.

"And a great one you'll make, too!" Slughorn boomed.

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," Luna said unexpectedly.

Hermione sidled up between Harry and Severus, effectively blocking them from being forced to stand beside each other, in time to hear Luna continue, "The Aurors are a part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."

Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started laughing, choking on his drink and slopping it on himself. Severus's face twitched at this. Hermione could not quite stop herself from laughing as well, grinning with a mixture of relief and disbelief at Luna. This drew the attention of the two males standing on either side of her, but before anything could be said regarding her sudden appearance, a distraction arrived in the form of Argus Filch dragging Draco Malfoy by the ear toward them.

She stopped laughing immediately. Harry was grinning. Severus looked as though he had whipped his head to the side to look too quickly, and was wearing a most ugly expression indeed.

"Professor Slughorn," Filch wheezed. The expression on his face could have matched Harry's; both of them looked as though Christmas had come early. "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and late in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Malfoy yanked himself free from Filch's grip, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" Filch said, looking, if at possible, even more delighted. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the headmaster say that nighttime prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's alright, Argus, that's all right," Slughorn said, with a slight hiccup, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filch's expression of outraged disappointment was one that would have been more appropriate on a cat that had just had its mouse plucked away to safety by a disapproving owner. He turned around to leave, cursing furiously under his breath, and throwing Malfoy a dirty look as the thanked Slughorn piously for allowing him to stay.

Yet, there was no mistaking the look of disappointment on his pale blond face. He had been up to something. Not gatecrashing, certainly. He had been going somewhere inside the castle—to work on repairing whatever it was that had a twin at Borgin and Burkes?—and no doubt considered this a night wasted. Hermione looked up at the man next to her, and shot a warning look at him; the anger and fear on his face was too visible. A glance in her direction, a register of her meaning, and his face became inscrutable once more.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," he said suddenly.

"Oh, now, Severus," Slughorn said, hiccupping again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard—"

"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," Severus said curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Severus leading the way, and Malfoy looking resentful. Hermione turned to her other side, trying to figure out where Harry was, but it seemed that she had only turned away from him a moment ago, and now he had disappeared.

Hermione turned to Luna. "Have you seen Harry?"

"He's gone to the bathroom," Luna said cheerfully, and then with a note of serenity, added, "I hope he doesn't take too long, wrackspurts tend to gather around people when they're using the toilet…"

"Thanks," Hermione said grimly, making her way for the door.

~o~O~o~

Hermione waited outside the door leading to Slughorn's office, Disillusioned and perfectly still. Malfoy reappeared almost ten minutes after he had left, and a moment later, Severus did as well. His expression was smooth, unfathomable, and when Hermione reached out a hand to touch his shoulder just before he opened the door, he reacted sharply by grasping her hand in a painfully tight grip.

"It's me," Hermione whispered.

His hold loosened immediately. Without another word, he opened the door, and disappeared, only to reappear moments later. A short nod in her direction, and the two of them strode off in the direction of the headmaster's office. As soon as they were out of the dungeons, and effectively out of earshot of the party, Hermione felt it was safe to talk.

"What happened with Malfoy?" she asked quietly.

Severus pressed his lips into a tight line, and refused to respond. Hermione resigned herself to waiting, and they made their way up to Dumbledore's office in silence. They arrived at the gargoyle, to which Severus muttered "Blood-flavored lollipops" just loud enough to be audible, and they knocked once on the door before entering.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, looking unusually tired. He looked up at them when they entered, and gestured for them to have a seat.

"I take it, then, that this evening was not the enjoyable party that everyone was looking forward to?"

Severus gave Dumbledore a very sour look. Hermione merely removed her Disillusionment Charm, and said, "To be honest, I'm not quite sure what happened. I'm sure Severus knows more—"

"I don't," Severus said flatly.

"Well then, I can only give you my best guess, which is to say that Mr. Malfoy was planning on spending the evening working on his plan to assassinate you, and was otherwise detained by Mr. Filch. He ended up gatecrashing Slughorn's party instead."

"I see," Dumbledore said, peering at them over his half-moon spectacles. "Please continue."

"Well…" Hermione said, looking at Severus.

"Draco has avoided meeting with me despite the fact that I have continuously requested that he do so," Severus said, his expression unreadable, but there was a trace of anger in the hardened look around his eyes. "I used the opportunity to force him to do so now, when he could not openly refuse to do so. The discussion did not go well."

"No, I wouldn't expect it to," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh. "What was the content of this discussion?"

"Draco's clumsiness. The extent of the risks he's taking, which, if he pushes much further, could result in him being expelled for the other students' safety." Severus scowled, as he continued, "He has been learning Occlumency—from his aunt Bellatrix, no doubt. He believes I have no intention of helping him, but am rather trying to figure out his plan so that I can steal his glory. I admitted to him that I made an Unbreakable Vow to his mother to help him, but that has not softened his attitude toward me." He paused, and then said quietly, "He believes this to all be an act, and I am not certain whether I have impressed upon him how important it is that one be able to act."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking.

The office was silent, save for the whirring of an odd, spindly silver instrument on Dumbledore's desk. Fawke's let out a small, musical note.

Then Dumbledore sighed again. Heavily, it seemed. But before he could speak, Hermione got there first.

"There's no way to prove to him that you're not trying to steal his glory, nothing you could say that would help?" she asked.

Severus shook his head. His ire with the situation at hand was all that prevented him from berating her for posing such an obvious—and likely, equally useless—question.

"I… I hate to ask this, but with the situation being what it is… but we can't afford to let another student run afoul, because next time, they might not be as lucky as Katie Bell…"

"Spit it out, Hermione."

"You might ask the Dark Lord if he will assign you to help Draco," Hermione said quietly. "He's already got Fenrir working for him, right? Draco can use Fenrir, and he still gets the credit for the deed, like he's hoping for. You could do the same."

Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore got there first. "It's worth a try, Severus."

Hermione saw Severus's hands fist together, and a temple pulse slightly, but otherwise, he did not react.

"Draco will see any attempt to help him as interference," he said through clenched teeth. "Going to the Dark Lord will most likely only worsen matters, particularly because this is Draco's job and not mine."

"Severus—" Dumbledore began.

"I have another idea," Hermione interjected at once. "Actions speak louder than words, don't they? If Malfoy sees you helping him, deliberately, without knowing precisely what he's up to, he might take you seriously." Dumbledore was looking at her interestedly now, with an expression of mild curiosity, as though he were waiting for her to show him an interesting curio. Severus looked suspicious. She continued, "Prefects have to patrol the corridors at night, but once curfew hits for us, we have to go back to our common rooms, too. Hence the reason Draco was almost put in detention tonight. My suggestion," she plowed on, "is for me to do my duties, patrolling—by late curfew, he'll likely head off to wherever he's going to do his project, which will put him at risk of being caught by Filch. I can delay him, and you can come in and—and send me off, take points away, and then tell him to move along to finish whatever he was doing. He'll see the favoritism as support."

The two men were staring at her with identical expressions of amazement. Hermione shrugged.

"If you do that—you're not pressuring him for information, but you're helping him move around the castle even if he doesn't think you know where or why—"

"That seems like a sound idea," Dumbledore said approvingly.

"One flaw," Severus drawled. He had relaxed slightly at the suggestion, which told Hermione that he was considering it. "He clearly doesn't go every night. It's quite possible he doesn't even do it on a routine basis. It may be difficult to catch him at the right moment, and the right place."

"Filch said he was lurking in an upstairs corridor," Hermione said stubbornly. "You can ask him for specifics, but if he doesn't have any, I'll pick a random floor every night once Christmas break is over, you'll know where in advance. If we're lucky, we'll get him."

Severus gazed at her silently for a moment, and then turned to the headmaster.

"Very well," he said.

There was a sudden knock on the door, causing Hermione and Severus both to jump in surprise. Yet, they need not have worried, for a moment later revealed that it was merely Sanguini and Eldred Worple, at the Headmaster's office just as they had said they would be. Sanguini greeted Severus with a toothy, emaciated smile, while Worple eagerly came forward to shake Dumbledore's hand. Hermione noticed the Headmaster deliberately kept his injured right on his side and offered his left in its stead, subtly keeping it from being noticed.

Introductions were made. This time, Hermione was grateful to find herself being introduced as Hermione Snape; lately, if it were not for the ring on her finger, she might almost forget that she was a married woman. Severus's eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed in consternation as he took in the new arrivals, silently asking for an explanation.

He got one. "When I was working at The Three Broomsticks just before my sixth year—well, you'll remember that I tricked Rowle into going off on a wild goose chase," Hermione said, gesturing at the vampire. "Sanguini here is the reason for it. I hid him in the back room."

Severus's lip curled. "I see."

"Sanguini and Worple are here to help us," Dumbledore said amicably. "This time around, Tom has managed to successfully contact and court the vampire community at large. They are responding agreeably to his advances, though no commitment has been made yet—and will likely be with him, not unlike the giants and werewolves. However," he said, peering at them with a look of aged sternness in his eyes, "Sanguini has agreed to rejoin the vampire community and report on their activities to us, not unlike one of our other agents."

Remus, Hermione thought at once. She was then mentally reminded of the fact that she had not seen the werewolf in several months, and that she needed to speak with him.

"Normally, vampires keep to themselves," Severus said softly, "unless, of course, they are part of a coven. Why should this one help us?"

Sanguini bared his teeth. Hermione saw a pair of sharp, pointed canines poking out from underneath his upper lip, and then he spoke. "Your wife paid me a great kindness in helping me avoid capture. I promised her that I would return the favor one day—and I keep my word, beyond the obvious contingencies of a Life Debt." He let out a raspy chortle as he added, "Though since I am not alive, it hardly applies to me, does it?"

A pulse twitched under Severus's neck. "So why are we here, then? Surely our presence isn't required for this."

Sanguini merely shrugged.

"I wish for your wife to know that I am here to repay her favor," he said, flashing his pointed teeth at Severus once more. It was a dangerous gesture, yet Hermione had the sense that Sanguini himself was not threatening at all, but rather that showing his teeth was a mere force of habit. He turned his tired, emaciated eyes on her.

"And that should she ever be in need as I once was,"he continued, "I would be willing to help."

~o~O~o~

Hermione was grateful when Harry and Ron were gone the next day, off to the Burrow, along with so many other students who had families desperate to see them. Selenius arrived roughly ten minutes before Harry and Ron were scheduled to leave, and Hermione quickly brought him from Minerva's office and down to the dungeons, dropping him off at Severus's office before quickly heading back to say good-bye to Harry and Ron.

Harry received a hug and a heartfelt "Happy Christmas", which she received in return, as well as the intriguing news that Harry had something important to tell her once they got back from the holidays. Ron might have received more than an affronted look if he had not been snogging Lavender just moments before she came to say goodbye, and had only looked up (making a sound like a wet plunger as he did so) in order to hear her out. When they left, Hermione walked right past Lavender without another word, and made her way down to the dungeons.

As soon as she made it to their quarters, she tore off her student robes and tossed them onto the dresser before pulling out the clothes she had worn as an adult. She yanked off her Gryffindor tie, and was in the process of pulling on the Muggle clothes she wore on underneath, rolling up the cuffs, when Severus arrived.

He took one look at her, and gave her a thin-lipped smile that might have been one of amusement.

"I take it you're glad to be back."

"Quite," Hermione said briskly, glancing behind him. "Where's Selenius?"

"He said he wanted to visit the library for a bit."

"But—"

"None of the students will notice, Hermione," Severus interrupted. "It's the holiday. Few of them are wearing their school uniform, and even fewer will care to take a second look at a first-year."

"That's true…" Hermione said, still looking apprehensive, but otherwise appeased. "I mean, I don't know how many students are staying in the first place—the school seems almost empty…"

"Six," Severus said, smiling. "Total. None of them Gryffindors."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at this. "I take it Selenius will be staying in Gryffindor Tower, then?"

"Indeed."

"He'll like that, I'm sure," Hermione said, but now she was smiling, and for the first time in weeks, she looked more relaxed. "So what are we going to do for Christmas, this year? I was thinking we might take a trip to Diagon Alley for a couple hours tomorrow. Just to get out for a bit."

"How crowded do you expect it to be?" Severus asked, sitting down in one of the chairs and leaning back, looking completely at ease.

"Well, it's rather cold, and aside from last-minute holiday shopping and the fact that everyone's afraid of Death Eater attacks—not very." She shrugged. "I thought we might stop by Flourish and Blott's for a bit. You know—family time together. While we still can."

Severus held out a hand to her, and Hermione took it, pulling herself to him and arranging her legs so that she was sitting half on the chair and half in his lap. She leaned against him, pressing her face to his neck; closing her eyes, and continued, "I need to pay Borgin and Burkes a visit, and… even if it's not on your birthday… it would be nice, I think, if we could go to Flourish and Blott's as a family… even if Fortescue is gone, and owls are locked up again."

Severus's arms came to wrap around her torso, and she felt them tighten. "I'll be the one to pay Borgin a visit."

Hermione deliberated this for a moment. "I don't think you should be seen interfering with Draco Malfoy, especially in connection to the necklace. It would be better if I'm posing as a teacher, and even if Borgin recognizes me, he'll only remember me as the woman who came in as a potential buyer. I'll play my cards carefully."

She felt Severus sigh beneath her, his whole body heaving with tiredness, exasperation, and just a bit of anxiety. "No. If I'm to make Draco think I'm trying to help him, I would go in as though I'm trying to assist him. Sexist though it is, Hermione… he will be far more intimidated and convinced by my presence than yours."

Hermione considered carefully, and then said, "We'll both go."

"What?" Severus asked sharply.

"The Dark Lord knows that you're struggling to retain control over me. If you can prove you're making progress on that by bringing me along to assist you, then if the Dark Lord finds out about your interference, you'll have something good to stay his anger with. Point out that you're attempting to help Malfoy kill Dumbledore, and manipulate me in the process." She smiled faintly against his chest. "Two birds, one stone."

"I… damn," he muttered, his voice muffled by the fact that he had his face buried in her hair. "I'd like to tell you that you're wrong, and that it wouldn't work… but you're right…"

"We'll leave Selenius at Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said. "I don't know the exact incantation, but I can look up how to make a word-activated Porkey, as opposed to a time-locked one. If something happens while we're gone, he can Portkey straight back to Hogwarts." She stroked Severus's cheek with the lightest caress of her knuckles, and continued, "Aside from giving him the Felix Felicis, it might not be a bad idea to give him some Portkeys to carry on hand as a general rule. If something were to happen at the Burrow… I want Selenius to be as safe as possible. I want us to do whatever we can to ensure that if something happens, he has a way out. Even if it's not necessarily orthodox."

She felt Severus smirk as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Such as illegal Portkeys?"

"I don't care if it's illegal," Hermione said, with a trace of grumpiness in her voice. "Portkeys are only regulated because they can get through Anti-Apparition wards and allow people to go trans-continental in an instant—and because there's the liability of people using them to prank Muggles. They're regulated to prevent abuse, but we're not misusing them, and furthermore we've got a bloody good reason for needing some."

"I agree," Severus said quietly, pulling her up against him just a bit further so that he could slide his hands down her spine, resting them on her lower back. His fingers began massaging, and Hermione let out a helpless moan of mixed amusement and divine relief as he pressed in small, soothing circles. "We'll get everything together, and then sit Selenius down to discuss his safety and the measures we're taking to ensure it. He's not ignorant, you realize," he added smoothly, when Hermione lifted her head to say something. "He does read the Prophet. Molly's taken one out for the Burrow." Seeing the look of bewilderment on her face at how he knew Selenius's reading habits, he added, "He writes to me once a week. It would be difficult to explain away your correspondence with him, but no one notices mine."

Hermione smiled. She felt a slight twinge of jealousy that her husband got to talk to their son more often than she did, but it was gone almost in an instant, and was instead replaced by relief and some measure of happiness that Severus and Selenius had this opportunity to remain connected. Severus had been uncertain and distant when he had first had an opportunity to spend time with his son, and now that they were once again separated, Hermione thought it was good that they were not completely cut off from each other.

After that, they spent a good half-hour in near-silence. It felt good to simply have the other with them again, and there would be time for sex, love-making, and perhaps even a kinky reprieve from the real world later. But for the first time in weeks, the world around them was quiet, save for the crackling of the hearth, and they were both content to sit pressed against another warm, familiarly comfortable and equally comforting body.

Eventually, they got up. Hermione reluctantly Transfigured her shirt into a jumper, returning to their room to root through the wardrobe for the cozy red-and-gold hand-knitted sweater that Molly had given her last year. She pulled it on, again Transfigured her trousers into something warmer, and was then ready to leave with Severus to retrieve Selenius from the library.

Outside of their rooms, they walked apart from each other, clearly aware that the other was there, but acting as though they had nothing to do with them. Their quarters were the only sacrosanct place in which they could drop their roles; even now, in the nearly abandoned, empty corridors, there was the possibility of another student coming through. It was not until they got to the library that they realized this was a good idea, for while Severus went to search for a book on Portkeys, Hermione looked around for Selenius.

But when she found him, he was not alone.

He was sitting at one of the desks, a game of Wizard Chess in front of him, and three books stacked neatly to his right. And across from him, in the opposite chair, sat Draco Malfoy; leaning forward in his seat, brow pinched in contemplation. Hermione nearly gasped out loud in surprise when she saw this, but quickly stepped back behind another bookcase, leaning against it for a moment to gather her wits.

"Knight to C-4." That was Draco's command.

"Bugger—" there was a small squealing sound as Selenius's bishop was forcefully dragged off the board by Malfoy's knight, but a moment later, he uttered, "Queen to F-6."

How the hell had Selenius gotten into a bloody game of chess with Malfoy? How the hell had he convinced Malfoy to even play?

"Damn it," she heard Draco mutter, "you're good. What did you say your name was?"

"Sirrah."

"Well, Sirrah," the older boy drawled, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to slaughter your other bishop. Knight to D-3."

She heard Selenius swear using a set of words Hermione had not quite realized he had known yet. "You're just about the only other person I've met who pulls off that maneuver on me, other than my dad. Where did you learn that?"

"My godfather," Draco said, sounding bored yet smug. "He used to come over for Christmas, and we'd play."

"Bloody hell. He must have been good."

"Who are your parents, anyway?" There was a note of censure in Draco's voice. "You never gave me a last name."

"I don't know their names," Selenius said off-handedly.

"You're joking."

"Well, I only know them as Mum and Dad, don't I?"

"And they don't use each other's names around you?" Draco sounded thoroughly disbelieving.

Hermione turned around, now able to stand on her own two feet, and peered through the books on the shelf in time to see Selenius shrug. "Not really. I don't see my parents, much."

To Hermione's surprise, something about that seemed to hit Draco hard; for a moment, his face twitched, as though to get rid of an irksome fly, and then he said sullenly, "I suppose not."

Hermione saw Selenius examining Draco's face carefully for a moment, and then said, "You don't see much of your parents either, do you?"

"What, do you read minds now?" Malfoy asked with a snort of derision, but there was an underlying layer of resentment to his tone.

"No, you're just terribly obvious."

Malfoy frowned at this, tried to smooth his expression, and then looked back down at the board. "It's your turn."

"Right. Knight to D-3." There was a moment of almost respectful, speculative silence as Draco's own knight was dragged off the board, kicking and struggling, and then Selenius said, "You haven't played chess in a long time, either."

"Bloody hell—what now? What gave it away this time?" Draco sounded irritated.

"Because you forgot how to Castle."

Draco's expression turned sour at this, but then it turned interested, even contemplative. Then he said, "You're right. I haven't played chess in years." He gave Selenius a thoughtful look. "It is a good way to relax without letting your brain rot. I just haven't had the time to do it—or anyone to play with, for that matter."

"If I'm having trouble with my puzzles, sometimes I'll take a break and ask my uncle to play, or play against myself," Selenius said.

"You like puzzles?"

Selenius nodded.

"Problem-solving?"

Selenius nodded again.

Cautiously, Draco asked, "Odd artifacts?"

Another nod of affirmation.

Draco gave him a sharp look, and Hermione could see the gears practically turning in his head. And then, as though to stop himself from reconsidering, he blurted out, "What do you know about Vanishing Cabinets?"

Hermione saw Selenius's eyebrows rise in surprise at this, and then his expression furrowed with mental effort as he turned the topic over in his head. "Vanishing Cabinets… I've read about them. Really rare, really valuable. You put something in one of them, and it reappears in the other. It was used a lot in medieval times, usually to avoid getting caught in the crossfire between warring Wizarding families." He thought this over for another moment, and then added, "I think Hogwarts used to have one, until it was no longer needed due to the arrival of the Hogwarts Express." Another thoughtful look, and he added, "It's written about in Muggle literature, too. In the Chronicles of Narnia—"

Hermione saw Malfoy's eyes light up almost greedily at this, but he held up a hand to silence Selenius.

"I'm not interested in that. Did you ever read how to make them? Or… fix them?"

Selenius shrugged. "There was a list of enchantments, but it wasn't really a step-by-step manual on how to make them. It was one of my Dad's books on artifacts and old objects. The Vanishing Cabinet is tame, compared to some of the other stuff I found in there."

"Could I borrow that book?" Malfoy asked eagerly. "You know—ask your father if you can lend it for a bit, so I can take a look at it?"

Hermione held her breath, heart pounding so loudly she was surprised that the two boys sitting just feet away from her couldn't hear it.

"Sure," Selenius said. "Dad let me borrow it already. It's in my trunk."

"Excellent—"

"But under one condition," Selenius said, and here, Hermione could see he was grinning. "You have to play chess with me every afternoon until term starts."

Malfoy's eyes glittered at this, but to Hermione's surprise, there was not a trace of malice in them. "Deal."

"And I get it back before term starts, too."

Hermione could see Malfoy thinking this over quickly, even as his lips formed the words, "Done."

~o~O~o~

The only coherent words Hermione could think of were jumbled curses, swearwords, and hexes as she paced in front of the fire. Severus was sitting quietly in his chair, thinking over the scene Hermione had relayed to him not more than an hour ago after they had left the library. They had left without Selenius, neither of them stepping in to break up his chess game with Draco.

It was Severus who spoke first, pulling Hermione out of her panicked and worried thoughts. "This may turn out to be a rather… fortuitous turn of events, if we do this right."

"I don't see how," Hermione snapped. "The more time Selenius spends with Draco Malfoy, the larger the likelihood that Malfoy will find out who he is—and furthermore, Draco Malfoy is the last person on earth I want my son to be around!"

"Set your emotions aside for a moment and think carefully, Hermione," Severus said smoothly. "Selenius has been consistent in keeping up with his disguise, and it is useless to try and forbid a child to do something—that will just make him more likely to go against it. I will certainly speak to him about Draco, but I have no intention of forbidding him from playing chess with my godson. Furthermore," he added quietly, "this could be used to our advantage. Draco seems to like Selenius, and may confide in him things that he would not tell anyone else. We know now that he is interested in Vanishing Cabinets, which is an enormous step forward from where we were just hours ago."

Hermione bit her lip. "Malfoy is a bad influence on him. He already suggested asking if he could borrow the book without telling you why—"

"As I said," Severus interrupted, "I will speak with Selenius. Besides," he added, getting to his feet, "children lie to their parents, Hermione. That is a fact. We've all lied to our parents about one thing or another— the trick to having a child who prefers not to lie is to ensure that he doesn't have an ingrained reason to. Selenius trusts us both, and we have never punished him for his honesty."

Hermione found herself deflating slightly at this, no longer pacing in a frenzied sort of way. Severus added smoothly:

"I expect that we can find a compromise with him that allows him to spend Christmas in the company of another boy who is close to his age without compromising his safety." Hermione watched him bring a finger to his lips, tracing them as he always did when deep in thought, before he continued, "Selenius respects the boundaries we have set for him—and we have restricted him greatly. He's not even allowed to go outside without an adult, which means he cannot simply get up and go see Hagrid or walk by the lake on a whim, and he has no friends because we've chosen to homeschool him rather than keep him at your aunt and uncle's."

"I—we—"

Severus put up a hand, silently asking her to listen and let him finish. With a sigh of frustration, she capitulated.

"I don't regret the choices we've made for him," Severus said softly. "Because of them, we have a son who loves us both, is remarkably bright, well-cared for, and has grown up knowing a great deal about the Wizarding World. Even hidden, we have ensured that he will get as full and thorough an education as we can arrange. Furthermore, he is happy, which is a far cry from the miserable state he was in when he lived with your relatives." He stopped tracing his lip, and his hand dropped to his side. "I only regret the unintended consequences—that is to say, that he has never had much opportunity to interact with other children."

He watched Hermione gather herself up, as though ready to counter him, but then she capitulated yet again, looking rather helpless and tired.

"All right," she said. "I mean—yes, you're right of course, but I still don't like it, but… I will trust your judgment on this one."

She closed her eyes, and then opened them.

"Besides," she added, "it's only until term resumes."

~o~O~o~

That evening, the three of them sat around at the table situated in the corner behind the armchairs. Hermione had left their quarters while Severus had a private discussion with their son, and when she came back an hour later, it was to find that they both looked relatively satisfied with themselves. There was not a trace of resentment or fear on Selenius's face; whatever Severus had said to him, it had not put him on the defensive. When Hermione entered and shut the door behind her, she pulled out the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis and the small woven bracelet of unicorn hair that Hagrid had given her several years ago.

She set them both down on the table, and took a seat at the end. Severus was sitting perpendicularly to her right; Selenius to her left. She looked at Severus to confirm that he was ready to do this, and then turned to Selenius, who was eyeing the molten gold-like potion with avid interest.

"Your father tells me you've been reading the paper," Hermione began. "Is that right?"

Selenius nodded.

"Then that means you understand the climate that we're dealing with," Hermione continued. Seeing the look of confusion on her son's face, she clarified, "the political climate. That is to say, the attacks by Death Eaters, and the Ministry's attempt to apprehend them."

Selenius's eyes flickered down at the table, and he muttered, "There's a death in there almost every day."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, struck by his words. Merlin. She glanced at Severus for reassurance, and when the inscrutable expression on his face did not change, she decided to tread cautiously. "Yes. I—yes. They're killing people." She twisted her watch around on her wrist, fighting nervousness, and then said, "And you understand the position that you're in—that your existence has to remain a secret, that your father and I cannot always be there for you, and that your safety is our biggest concern."

Selenius nodded. Hermione stiffened her proverbial backbone, and sat up a bit straighter.

"The Burrow is well protected," she continued, "as is Grimmauld Place and Tine Cottage. But there is always the threat that a Death Eater could come to call, especially," she stressed, "since the Weasleys are involved in this war. Grimmauld Place is also a target—you already know this, because it's the Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix."

Selenius didn't say a word, but his eyes were locked onto his mother's face; it was clear that he was listening intently.

"In the case that you are ever attacked—at the Burrow or somewhere else," Hermione said, now tapping the miniscule bottle of Felix Felicis with one finger, "your father and I have come up with two things that are intended to help you. This bottle here—I don't know if you recognize what's in it?"

Selenius shook his head, but it was clear that he was dying to know.

"It's called Felix Felicis," Hermione lectured, "also known as liquid luck. There is four hours' worth of luck in this tiny bottle—" she lifted it up and shook it slightly "—which is only to be used in the case of an emergency. That is to say, a life-threatening situation. Furthermore," she continued, as another thought struck her, "you are not to tell anyone that you have it. No matter how much you trust or like them, this is something that is supposed to be kept secret. This is what you pull out when you're in danger of being killed."

She and Severus had reconsidered giving Selenius the entire six-hours' worth, and had each taken a sixth of the potion to store in a miniscule phial on their person. It had been Hermione's insistence that they have that tiny last resort up their sleeve, and Severus had eventually agreed. Slughorn's decision to give herself and Harry six hours' worth each had been done in the spirit of recreational use, or to simply have a good day, and not an emergency. It had been a last-minute alteration to their plan, but they were satisfied with it. Four hours' worth for Selenius should be enough.

"What your mother has neglected to tell you," Severus said, his voice low, "is that this is only to be used after you have tried to Portkey, and failed." He tapped the bracelet of unicorn hair with his wand, which had originally belonged to Hermione as a gift from Hagrid, and Selenius picked it up, examining it for a moment before slipping it on his wrist. "This is a Portkey that activates by use of a word that has been keyed to it." Hermione pulled out a slip of paper from her pocket and pushed it toward Selenius, as Severus continued, "The word is written on there—no, don't say it now!" he snapped, as Selenius opened his mouth. "Portkeys are one-use only, and if you spend it now, you will have wasted it. Memorize the word written on that parchment, but do not say it out loud."

Selenius nodded quickly, took a moment to read the parchment, and then set it back down on the table. Visible in the firelight, in black ink, the word Padfoot was written clearly. Hermione thought she saw Selenius swallow, as though he were having difficulty opening his mouth to speak, but then apparently decided that silence was best. He looked back up at his father, whose attention was now back on the Felix Felicis.

"If you are attacked, you are to attempt to Portkey away first. It will take you to the outskirts of Tinworth, though not directly to Tine Cottage. If you are unable to do so for some reason, you are then to take a mouthful of Felix Felicis and find an alternative to Portkeying." He nodded at the potion, and Selenius reached out and carefully pocketed it. "Do not drink the whole bottle at once."

"Why not?" asked Selenius. Hermione had a feeling that Selenius knew, or at least was able to guess a few of the reasons why, but wanted clarification anyway.

"Because Felix Felicis takes six months to brew and is disastrously difficult to make," Severus responded sharply. "Furthermore, it is highly toxic if taken in large quantities, and overuse can drive the drinker to reckless behavior. It is a potion meant to be taken sparingly. I trust I have made myself clear?"

Selenius shook his head vigorously to show that he understood. His lips were pressed together; it was clear to Hermione that underneath his silence, he was thinking rapidly.

"And now, to address a significantly more pleasant topic," Severus said, leaning back in his seat, "your mother and I will be taking you to Diagon Alley tomorrow. At some point, we will stop by Flourish and Blott's, and you will be left there—alone—for several minutes." Selenius perked up with interest at this, and Severus raised an eyebrow at him—and for a moment, Hermione nearly snorted with laughter as Selenius raised the same brow in response—before he added, with a slight note of censure in his tone, "Is it necessary for me to tell you that we expect you to still be there when we get back, or can you infer that for yourself?"

Selenius smiled, although it was really more of a smirk in Hermione's opinion. "Don't worry, Dad."

~o~O~o~

As Hermione had predicted, Diagon Alley was sparsely populated. There were a few people straggling about, trying to get Christmas shopping done with two days to go, but the threat of Death Eaters combined with the unappealing cold no doubt kept most people at home today. Hermione, in her black-haired disguise, took Selenius to Madam Malkins for a new set of robes; his last pair had been bought over a year ago, and he had grown at least another two inches by Hermione's reckoning. Furthermore, he needed a winter cloak. She wore her hair up in a chignon, charmed black, her eyes equally different so that none of the shopkeepers they came across recognized her. The quest for new robes was uneventful, compared to the one that had almost disintegrated into a fight in the middle of the shop last August.

Severus wore a hooded cloak that obscured his features, but nothing more. It caused Madam Malkin to twitter nervously as she helped outfit Selenius, clearly at ill-ease with having a disguised stranger in her shop, but nothing came of it. No one would be able to associate him with the woman and the boy he accompanied. The cover was enough.

They went straight to Flourish and Blott's, passing the boarded up building that had previously been Florean Fortescue's. Hermione saw Severus cast an almost longing glance in its direction—and she, too, looked at it with wistful reminiscence—before they moved on, pushing into the bookstore. A flurry of snow followed them in, and they wiped off their boots before they each went to find the section that held their interest.

There were few people inside the shop, too. A careworn-looking woman was on the second floor, sitting by the railing with a book in her hand. A man stood near the back, wearing a leather duster-jacket and darned gloves without finger-sleeves. A stout, older woman had a basket in one hand and was clearly buying all of her grandchildrens' gifts in the form of storybooks. There were a few other people dotted here and there around the room, all minding their own business, with an air of alert tension, as though they were ready to scurry away at a moment's notice.

Selenius ignored the depressing atmosphere and was immediately drawn to a bookcase just three shelves down from the entrance, and when Hermione followed him to see what he was looking at, she was rather amused to watch him pull several books off and balance them in his arms. He hefted them into a cobbled pile in the crook of one elbow before continuing to browse the titles. Hairy Snout, Human Heart was at the top of the stack. The Rise and Fall of the Dart Arts soon followed it, and Hermione eventually went to retrieve a basket for him, because soon he had so many books that he could barely see over them. A Guide To Medieval Sorcery made it into the basket, along with the last copy of Confronting the Faceless, and most interestingly, a thick volume titled The Compleat Collection of Grimm's Fairytales. Selenius turned around in time to see his mother raising an eyebrow as the stack of books reached well over a dozen, and sighed.

"Do you really need all of these?" Hermione asked, picking up The Tales of Beedle the Bard and turning it over to the back.

"Yes," Selenius deadpanned. Seeing the unconvinced look on his mother's face, he added, "It's Christmas, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I'm sure Hogwarts has most of these already…"

"But I don't get to use the library very often," Selenius pointed out.

Severus came up behind her at that moment, and placed a hand on her shoulder, signaling that he was ready to leave. Hermione pursed her lips.

"I'm giving you a budget of twenty Galleons," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "You pick whatever books you want, but it has to meet that limit. And whatever change you have left from that, you can keep as pocket money."

Selenius gaped at her for a moment, and then a broad grin slowly spread across his face. An exclamation of "Yes!" followed by Hermione nearly having the life squeezed out of her in a hug, and then Selenius wheeled around and began going through the shelves in earnest. Severus squeezed her shoulder, and when Hermione turned around, there was no denying the amusement lingering in his expression.

"You've just made his Christmas," Severus muttered into her ear. "Shall we go now?"

They left Selenius to his books, and made their way down the street, turning into Knockturn Alley. They pushed the door open to Borgin and Burkes, startling the man behind the counter with their abrupt arrival, and causing him to quickly set something wooden and silvery back behind the counter. Borgin eyed them silently as they approached the counter, and then his eyes widened perceptibly in surprise as Hermione pulled out the stony matchbox. A tap of her wand caused the box to crumple to ash, leaving the opal necklace gleaming in the dim light of the shop.

For a moment, Borgin didn't move a muscle. He held himself very still, and Hermione had the sense that he was doing some very quick thinking. Then his eyes began to flicker visibly over the necklace, and he pulled out his wand. He tapped it once, twice, and then lifted it up very carefully with the tip, holding it up closer to the light, keeping it at arm's length. Then he finally set it down, very slowly, back on the counter and turned to look at the two customers standing silently before him.

"I know who I sold this necklace to," Borgin uttered, and there was a trace of fear in his words. "I was not under the impression that he intended to… resell it."

"He did a bit of gifting," Hermione said, her voice chilly as she recalled Katie Bell's shrieks as she was subjected to the curse. "He tried to have someone else do the delivery, but I'm afraid it went downhill from there."

"I see." Borgin was all business now, though there was a definite air of wariness about him. "And you are looking to sell it back to me?"

"No," Severus said quietly from beneath the hood of his cloak. "We're here to ask what else was bought here—by the same person who purchased this necklace, of course."

Borgin licked his lips. "I can't tell you."

Severus let out an impatient hiss of disbelief, and without even exchanging glances with Hermione—neither of their harsh, inscrutable expressions altered one jot—he stepped forward and yanked back the sleeve of his left arm. The grotesque shape of the Dark Mark was clearly burned into his skin, unmistakably genuine, and Borgin did a double-take, glancing back up at Severus and then Hermione with an expression of deferential fear.

"We have the same goals, Malfoy and I," Severus said silkily, pulling the sleeve back down. "Unfortunately, he insists on working alone, and his incompetence may cost me." Seeing that he now had Borgin's full and undivided attention, he continued smoothly, "You will supply me with a list of what he has purchased since last summer, and any details you have concerning what he intends to use them for." Borgin hesitated, and he snarled, "Now."

Deciding that he feared this grown man and his stiff-backed, dark-eyed, curly-haired accomplice far more than a lone sixteen-year-old boy with the same credentials, Borgin immediately bent down behind the counter. There was the rustling of paper, and then Borgin reappeared with parchment in hand. He smoothed it out on the counter, skimmed down the list, and then turned it around and pointed to a number of purchases under the same name somewhere near the bottom.

"Draco Malfoy purchased a Hand of Glory, and this very same cursed opal necklace, early last August," Borgin said. "He also paid for a Vanishing Cabinet, but demanded I keep it here. The very same one," Borgin continued, pointing a quavering finger at a spot behind Severus and Hermione, "standing right behind you. His only orders on the matter were for me not to sell it."

"Is that all?" Hermione prompted, restoring the matchbox with a flick of her wand and then carefully lifting the necklace back into it, before sealing and placing the box back into her pocket again.

Borgin looked worried; he was wringing his hands now, and then he said, "He promised retribution if I told anyone. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, I suppose, so I have no qualms with telling you that he claimed Fenrir Greyback to be an acquaintance of his—that he would be checking in on my… progress."

"Progress?" Severus repeated, his tone silky and unmistakably dangerous. "On what, exactly?"

"He… has the other Vanishing Cabinet," Borgin said uneasily. "According to him, it's broken. A quick Reparo isn't really sufficient to make objects formed by complex layers of enchantments fully functional again. His description of the object was that it was smashed by a Poltergeist, but still appears to be partially, if dubiously, working. He has placed a great demand on my time and energy in instructing him on how to repair it by description alone, in single steps. It is…" Borgin searched around for an appropriate word. "Difficult."

Now Hermione and Severus exchanged identical, stony looks, but there was no mistaking the meaning behind it. Right now, Draco was undoubtedly stumped on some step that the repairing process required, and was looking at another source of inspiration to get past it.

Borgin continued, an underlying layer of desperation to his voice. "I would appreciate it if you told no one where you got this information. Or—or if you do, that you put in a good word for me. I don't need—I don't need another visit from Greyback, to be frank."

Severus waved a hand in callous dismissal. "If he asks, deny it. If worst comes to worst, tell him to talk to me first. After all," he continued silkily, "you will continue to help him—in which case, he has no reason to bring retribution down on your head, if you are not impeding him."

"Yes—I—yes, of course—"

They both turned to leave, but Borgin called after them, halting them both in their tracks.

"Will he—the Malfoy boy—will you tell him?"

Severus took his time in turning around, his head rotating a fraction to the left to look at Borgin. Hermione, her hand still on the door, didn't move a muscle as he spoke.

"Unlikely."

And with that, Hermione yanked the door open, causing the bell in the shop to chime as they left. As soon as they had gone several feet down the alley, Hermione turned around for one last look at Borgin.

The man was standing behind the counter, a look of abject fear and misery on his face; if he had merely looked worried after Malfoy had left all those weeks ago back in August, now he looked terrified. Hermione did feel somewhat bad about it, but in the next moment, as they turned down the street, she had let it go; they had gotten important information, information that explained a great deal.

Information that might, in the long run, save lives.

~o~O~o~

"Malfoy purchased the necklace, and used the first available Hogsmeade weekend to try and sneak it into the castle," Hermione said, while jotting down her words in the notebook. The unassuming pages of bound parchment were filled with cramped handwriting, impeccable in their record keeping. Compressed though it was, Hermione quickly found a blank page among the hundreds that were neatly dated and filled to the brim. "He was at Hogwarts at the time, which means he used an accomplice to do it."

"Crabbe and Goyle were also in detention that day," Severus said, tossing the Evening Prophet aside, where it slipped off the coffee table and landed in the hearth. The flames quickly devoured it; Severus glared sourly at the now ruined paper, but did not otherwise seem much bothered by its untimely demise, as he continued, "which wipes them off the list of suspects."

"That means he was using someone else," Hermione said, chewing on the tip of her quill. "My guess would be he placed them under the Imperius. Who the victim is, I cannot say. Katie Bell was Imperiused into taking the package up to the castle, but she wasn't enchanted until after she left the Three Broomsticks. In any case, that means Malfoy either has another accomplice, one who either left the castle with the other students…"

"…or one who was stationed in Hogsmeade to begin with," Severus finished, getting to his feet abruptly. "I find this to be the most likely case; whoever Imperiused Miss Bell was probably also in possession of the necklace to begin with, which would have meant that Draco had it dropped it off at Hogsmeade before term began. The accomplice, willing or otherwise, holds onto the package until the students come to Hogsmeade; he then Imperiuses one of them into taking the package back up to the castle."

"Or she," Hermione added absently, still chewing on her quill. "But that doesn't make sense. It's the sort of plan that's doomed to fail immediately, given the security we've got this year. That necklace wouldn't have made it into the castle."

"Perhaps Draco was operating under the off-chance that Filch would summon the headmaster, or that Filch might take the necklace up to him personally after confiscating it," Severus said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the mantle. "There would always be the possibility that Albus would touch the package with his hands—and given the way it was wrapped, it was clearly very easy to tear, and nearly impossible to open without its contents spilling out."

"So it was a sloppy attempt, but with a chance of success all the same," Hermione murmured. "In fact…"

"If Draco's accomplice had chosen a different victim, the necklace might have made it to the castle," Severus finished darkly. "It was only by chance that Miss Bell had a friend who bothered to be concerned about the wisdom of bringing an unknown package up to the school."

"This was a desperate, stab-in-the-dark attempt," Hermione said slowly, thoughtfully. "But it's not his main plan. His main plan clearly involves a Vanishing Cabinet…" she sat up straighter. "Severus, remember that night two years ago? When you discovered that someone had been searching your office, and ended you up having that argument on the staircase with Filch and Crouch—don't you remember? Filch mentioned a Vanishing cabinet…"

Severus's brow pinched as she spoke. "Yes—Potter's Map, and his golden egg…"

"Didn't—Severus, didn't one of your Slytherins get shoved into a Vanishing Cabinet last year…?"

Severus paused. His eyes flickered over her face, and Hermione could see he was doing some rapid thinking and recollection. "Yes."

"But it's broken," Hermione said carefully. "Peeves smashed it the year before, didn't he? Smashed it up, and left it on the first floor…"

"But it's not on the first floor anymore," Severus pointed out quietly.

"That means Malfoy's hidden it," Hermione said, quick on the uptake. She stood up at once. "Harry's told me that he's been disappearing off the Map at times—I thought he was just not noticing him among the other names, but Malfoy knows about the Room of Requirement, and I've never seen it on the Map…"

"You think he's taken the Vanishing Cabinet to the seventh floor?" Severus asked, in a tone that could easily be mistaken for skepticism, but was simply sharp. Dangerously sharp. A pause, and he suddenly switched track. "The Map—Potter's Map—how is he not seeing you on there?"

"I honestly don't know," Hermione said, "he may be oblivious, or perhaps it's because I'm still being called by my maiden name…"

"Very well—but the Vanishing Cabinet?"

"Yes, yes," Hermione said, now pacing in front of the fireplace. "He's taken it there to hide it, so that he can repair it in secret. That's where he's been going—that's why Filch found him the night of Slughorn's Christmas party, he was setting out for it when he thought the halls would be deserted." Her eyes narrowed, and she wheeled around the face her husband. "Of course, the only way we'll know for sure, for us to prove that, is for me to start patrolling the Seventh Floor in the hopes of catching him… that's when you'll step in and send me away, of course, and let him get back to whatever it is that he's doing."

"We can reasonably assume that you're correct regarding where and what Draco is up to," Severus said coolly. "But it doesn't tell us why he's trying to repair it—unless…"

Hermione locked eyes with him. "He told Borgin to reserve the one in the shop, didn't he?"

"Indeed."

"He's trying to make a link between Borgin and Burkes and Hogwarts," Hermione said determinedly. "Maybe he's trying to sneak something in—something dark and dangerous—something that wouldn't get past Filch's Secrecy Sensors and Dark Detectors…"

Severus stood there silently for several long moments, moments that stretched as his expression furrowed into one of intense brooding and concentration. The firelight flickered ominously across his face, and Hermione caught a glimpse of the man Borgin had seen in the shop, underneath the roles they were playing. The part of Severus that was every bit as deadly and dark as he gave the impression of being. The part of him that was cunningly unraveling every inch of Draco Malfoy's plan…

"No," he murmured at last, mostly to himself. "No, he's not trying to slip an object or artifact past Filch. It's more than that."

He straightened, and at Hermione's querying look, continued, "When I confronted him, that night Filch caught him, he told me something interesting that I had, until now, dismissed almost entirely. When I pointed out how foolish he had been, sneaking out without backup, and relying on dunderheads like Crabbe and Goyle for assistance… he told me, and I quote, 'They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people'. But as I told you, I had dismissed it as insignificant…"

Hermione stared at him, eyes widening in horror. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, quite," Severus said. "He already threatened Borgin with Fenrir, and as you've heard, it was not an empty threat." He tilted his head toward the flames, and for the first time that night, Hermione saw Severus's expression morph into one of cold fury. "He's planning on smuggling people into the castle."

"Death Eaters," Hermione clarified.

"Yes."

Hermione shook her head, her expression caught between anger and misery. "If we're right, then I've underestimated him," she said bitterly. "This plan is disgustingly clever… he brings Death Eaters into the castle, puts the other students at risk—next, he'll probably try to corner the headmaster…"

"And then kill him."

Hermione nodded.

"Well," Severus said, his tone dangerously soft, "we'll have to see if we're right, once the holidays are over." He paused to let this sink in, firelight dancing ominously across his face, as he continued, "If we're right, I'll have to find a way to help him in a manner that he'll accept, and see if we can possibly spare any students from crossing his path."

"The students are the most important, at this point," Hermione said staunchly. "They're the ones that need protection. The headmaster—the headmaster has resigned himself to his fate. He's going to die either way, preferably by your hand, but this plan places everyone else in the castle at risk."

"There's only one question left to answer," Severus said, crossing over to her. He placed on hand on her shoulder, his grip stiff and tight. "Do we tell Albus?"

Hermione stood there for a moment in deliberation, and then shook her head.

"No," she said quietly. "We don't know for certain if we're right, and until we do, we'll keep this quiet. The headmaster is waiting for us to get results on intercepting Malfoy and tricking him into thinking you're on his side, first."

~o~O~o~

Christmas morning was spent in their quarters. Severus had snarkily ordered his son the evening before not to disturb them before noon, which Selenius easily agreed to, likely because he had no intention of leaving Gryffindor Tower before then in the first place. The common room was literally piled with books, and he had made himself quite at home curled up and reading.

Neither of them had bought a particularly notable gift for the other. They had neither had the time to go out and spend hours looking for a book the other did not have yet, or something entirely new and unique to present them with. Hermione had, however, bought Severus a new winter cloak while at Madam Malkins, and she received a pair of fuzzy warm, black gloves in return that kept her fingers decidedly cozy.

Their real gift, however, was a whole uninterrupted morning, free of worldly concerns, to spend together.

Hermione was jerked awake that morning, out of a confusing swirl of dreams, with a mixture of surprise and keening pleasure as Severus's lips and fingers ambushed her, nibbling on her neck and massaging the bundle of nerves between her legs. For a split-second, she was confused and a bit dazed about what was happening, but as soon as she squirmed around to look at the warm presence pressed against the curve of her back, she understood immediately, and retaliated by catching hold of his ear and suckling on it.

He jerked away, instead snaking around to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, still working his fingers between her folds and causing her to gyrate against them in earnest. Her nimble fingers quickly reached under his chest to tweak his sensitive, coin-sized areolas in retaliation, and he sat up quickly, tossing aside the bedcover so that he could move unimpeded, and then pulled out his wand.

"Don't make me tie you up, Mrs. Snape," he drawled.

Hermione stared at him, shuddering as his fingers continued to work their own brand of magic on her, helplessly aroused and even further turned on by his threat. She opened her mouth to answer, but merely bit her lip as Severus withdrew his fingers; a moment later, he slid two of them inside her, and was now using his thumb to continue pleasuring her. He was succeeding, if the goal was to turn her brain to mush. In the overly-hormonal body of a nineteen-year-old witch, it was ridiculously easy to turn on the sexual overdrive in her brain.

If only it were that easy to satisfy it.

She threw her head back, and let out moan of pleasure before turning her head to the side to look at him. She locked her gaze on his face, her expression deeply wanton.

She did end up tied to the bed that morning, wrists bound flat against the mattress. It was then that her husband proceeded to slowly torment her, taking his time in exploring her body and reacquainting himself with what, precisely, made her tick. Or scream. Or beg, demand, and moan, as she was wont to do. He tortured her, bringing her pleasure without satisfaction, ignoring his raging erection in favor of experimenting in the ways to drive his lovely, normally loquacious and eloquent wife to mutter incoherently.

Eventually, he pressed against her, nudging at her opening. To her surprise, he bent down to whisper into her ear, surprisingly making his own sensitive ear vulnerable to her teeth in doing so. She did not take the bait, however, as he spoke.

"Do you remember that day at Spinner's End when I finally had you?" he murmured, sinking into her slowly, stopping when he was only a few centimeters in before withdrawing. "When I pulled you down to the floor, and took you there for the first time…" he sank back into her, as he emphasized, "and then again…"

Hermione closed her eyes, absorbing his words and the deep, caressing baritone that accompanied them. "Gods…" she murmured out loud.

"I didn't pay enough attention, that first time," Severus murmured quietly in response, slowly pushing into her. She was so wet by now that there was absolutely no resistance; if anything, it felt as though her body, slick as it was, was desperately trying to pull him in. "It was too fast, too quick. But now…"

Hermione's head thumped back against the mattress as his fingers snuck between their joined bodies and he began thumbing her again. Her legs came to wrap around his hips, trying to pull him in deeper, to convince him to move…

"Now," he whispered, nuzzling the sensitive spot just behind her cheek, "I can take my time to truly appreciate, discipline myself to ignore the urge to simply fuck in favor of bringing you to the peak of arousal…" a shift of his hips preceded his next words "before I do this."

And then the glorious, naked bastard thrust hard into her, causing her to gasp and let out an unintelligible stream of moans and encouragement as he took her roughly now, not without tenderness, but with libidinous enthusiasm that threatened to knock Hermione's head into the headboard—or would, if she were not pinned in place by her wrists. Nevertheless, after the slow sexual torment he had put her through, this was entirely welcome.

He thrust into her hard, whilst reminding her in panting breaths of all the memorable occasions they'd had together. Recounted the times they had used to patrol the halls together as fellow teachers, and he would ambush her and take her in some shadowed niche by surprise, or in his classroom, the library… and finally ended with a recall of the instance where he had used Legilimency on her, breaking her Occlumency barriers through sexual torment, and proceeded to do exactly that once again.

There were no secrets between them at this moment. This time, she willingly opened her mind to his, and he relaxed his barriers enough for her to slip through in turn. Memories swayed into view, a bit hazy at first, but clearer as Severus dragged up his favorite encounters for her to experience from his perspective, and began pushing through her head for some of her own. Hermione didn't realize she had reached completion until Severus finally broke the connection, his hips jerking and losing their rhythm and breaking their joint concentration.

Light exploded behind her eyes, tremors wracked her body, all intensified by the enforced celibacy they had been through for the last four months. At some point, the magic pinning her wrists dissolved, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly as she rode out her climax, shuddering with bone-deep pleasure. When he pulled away, moving so that he could half-prop himself on his side with his elbow, Hermione snuggled next to him, pressing her face into his neck and breathing in the smell of sweat, sex, and satiation that lingered in the air, contentedly recovering. The musky, male scent that she had recognized that first day in Potions class was there too, and she savored it with slow, deep breaths.

They lay there in post-coital bliss—for how long, Hermione did not know—but she eventually sat up again. Severus had closed by eyes by now, thoroughly relaxed as he was, and only let out a muttered word of a protest as her warmth left his arms. His eyes flew open when he felt her lips wrap around him without warning, and he jerked upright, one hand reaching for her head. His fingers wrapped in her curls, and for a moment, he seemed undecided on whether to pull her away or encourage her; but then he fell back onto the bed, his expression contorted in a grimace of pleasure, and any considerations to stopping her were done away with. He let out a hissed exclamation as she took his hardening shaft deeper into her mouth, sucking, licking, occasionally pulling back to nibble before taking him in again…

Needless to say, they spent the entire morning in mutual, shuddering enjoyment. They eventually migrated from the bed, to the table for breakfast, and finally ending up in front of the fire, on the luxuriously soft sheepskin rug. Nothing deterred them from making full use of the time they had allotted to spend undisturbed together.

When noon arrived, Hermione had difficulty forcing herself to get up and get dressed, and while Severus reluctantly left to collect Selenius from Gryffindor Tower, Hermione tried to figure out how she was going to make it to the Great Hall for lunch without making it plainly obvious that she had just been well and thoroughly shagged. As far as Harry and Ron knew, she had returned to her parents' for Christmas. As far as the rest of the school knew, or so the official story went, she was holed up in Gryffindor Tower getting ahead on her reading.

Severus, however, returned to their quarters before she made it out the door, looking thoroughly irritated. Selenius was not in Gryffindor Tower, and after stalking over to the library, he had come back to inform her that Selenius was playing chess. With who, exactly, it was easy to guess, to say the least. He did not seem to be the least bit concerned about the fact that his parents were not there. They therefore elected to summon lunch to their quarters, and spent the rest of the afternoon continuing what they had started that morning.

When Hermione saw Selenius later that evening, back at Gryffindor Tower, he seemed pensive. When he was younger, he had always been the quiet, contemplative sort; it was not until he had turned eight that he began to open up, to become more outgoing and talkative. Since Sirius's death, he had become sadder, noticeably more depressed with the loss of his uncle, but he had not retreated into himself. Now, however, when Hermione saw him, it seemed his mind was miles away; he was locked inside his head, kilometers deep in his brain, with a sign on his forehead that said, 'Do Not Disturb.'

He looked just like Severus did when he was privately thinking about how to fix a step or alter an ingredient in a potion, for a private project. Pensive. Contemplative. Brooding. And when asked, he would respond that there was absolutely nothing on his mind.

Which was why Hermione found herself gazing into Selenius's eyes, silently entering his mind to find out what he was up to. What swam into view was starkly revealing; Draco had been distracted all through their chess game as he looked through the book Selenius had lent him. Draco had also asked him about his parentage, and when Selenius had sullenly refused to answer, Draco had laughed in his face and told him that if he wasn't telling, he must be a half-blood—and had leaned back in his chair and drawled about how his father's best friend had been a half-blood, too, with a Muggle for a father. He had spoken disparagingly about that, and there was a trace of bitterness in his tone, but it was clear to Hermione that Draco still respected his godfather. That was important to know.

It was clear to Hermione that Draco's attitude about heritage bothered Selenius. The fact that he thought himself so superior irked her son, and it seemed that he was privately warring with himself over what he had been taught—to reject the pureblood dogma—and wanting to have a friend, a companion closer to his age. This was what her son was so quiet about: the fact that Draco was someone who insulted his parentage, but was also his one social link outside of his immediate family.

"Don't worry about it," Draco had said dismissively, once his mantra about inferior parentage had been finished. "You're alright, even if you're just a lowly half-blood."

All of this now registered itself before Hermione's eyes, without a single blink from Selenius to indicate that he realized what his mother was doing. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the way Hermione had always seen Harry behave even before he knew about Occlumency, and suspected that he must feel as though she were x-raying him. Harry had once told her that he sometimes felt Dumbledore was seeing into his soul, long before the topic of Legilimency had ever crossed his consciousness. Perhaps Selenius was feeling the same way, too. Nevertheless, Hermione got up and left.

The Fat Lady had a bit of trouble letting her out; the portrait's occupant was heavily drunk, swaying alarmingly in her frame. Beside her, her portrait friend Violet took a swig of dark red wine, and proceeded to giggle. What looked like a vat of wine had been added to her portrait, and Hermione watched as the Fat Lady leaned forward to help herself to another glass, tittering before she downed it.

Hermione shook her head, and then made her way to her quarters, and Severus.

Though Selenius spent a portion of each day with his parents, he continued to play chess with Draco well into his last day. Hermione would scan his mind when he returned, gleaning oddly important tidbits from him, though there were days when Severus took it upon himself to do it in her stead. Neither of them felt remorse; they were allowing their son an opportunity to meet someone closer to his own age, but that someone was also not the safest or most trustworthy person to be around, and they were monitoring him for his own safety if nothing else.

The day he was set to return to the Burrow, Hermione watched Severus take their son aside to talk to him. They spoke in low voices, which Hermione could not possibly make head or tails of, but when they straightened and then made their way to his office to use the Floo, Selenius seemed even more quiet than before. Hermione caught up with them then, having given them the space they needed for a private chat, and made Selenius check his person for all of the gifts his parents had given him. He patted his left pocket for the bottle of Felix Felicis and showed his mother his wrist for the unicorn hair bracelet.

Satisfied, Hermione kissed her son good-bye, tucked his ever-growing bangs behind his ear, made him promise her that he wouldn't make too much trouble for Molly and Arthur, and then proceeded to let him go. He stepped into the emerald green flames, and was gone.

~o~O~o~

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon down at Hagrid's, stroking Buckbeak's feathery neck while Hagrid warmed squirrels over a fire for him and then tossed them to the waiting hippogriff. Hermione was bundled up against the cold, once again back in her school clothes and wearing her Gryffindor scarf. She had dropped by Dumbledore's office earlier to check in with the headmaster, and carried a scroll in her pocket for Harry, to inform him of when his next private lesson would be.

Dumbledore had been surprisingly forthcoming about where he had been over Christmas break, giving her the details while she examined his blackened hand. Severus could not do much more to stop the spread of the curse, so it was her job to look at it and make sure that it was progressing as estimated.

"I paid Azkaban a visit," Dumbledore said quite conversationally as Hermione ran her wand over his deadened fingers. "Visitors are allowed, of course, but with increased security these days, I'm afraid it gave me a bit of trouble… and I must confess, I was not all that inclined to let the Ministry in on what I was there for."

"Understandable," Hermione said. She paused, and then asked, "Whose memories did you take, Albus?"

"If I am right in assuming that Harry has told you about the previous memories I have shown him, you will surely recognize the name Morfin Gaunt," Dumbledore said. "I do not believe you would recognize the second—a house-elf named Hokey, although I think I shall save that one for another time." He sat up a bit straighter in his chair now, and added, "I did, however, acquire a third memory."

"Not from Azkaban, sir?"

"No," Dumbledore agreed, leaning back in his chair now with a heavy sigh. "I finally managed to persuade Horace to part with an important memory—or rather, I thought I had." He tapped a vial of memory sitting on his desk, and Hermione saw that it seemed a bit sludgy compared to the other two memories resting on the table, as though it had congealed. "It took quite a bit of coaxing to convince him to give it to me, but as you can see, he has clearly tampered with the memory first."

"Memories can be tampered with?" Hermione asked, momentarily distracted as she bent down to look at the contents of the slightly sluggish, misty-greyed memories with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "After they've been extracted, I mean?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore said, pulling his injured hand away to place it back in his lap. "But that is, I am afraid, the problem. Horace has altered the memory he gave me, eliminating the vital, necessary part that I sought in the first place."

"Then what is the point of showing this memory to Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled at her.

"It will be Harry's job to persuade Slughorn to give me the real memory," he told her. "Naturally, he needs to know what he is asking for before he can do so."

Hermione had hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "And—sir… what is the point—why are you showing Harry all of this?" Dumbledore had raised a single, silvery-white eyebrow at her, and she amended, "It's all very interesting, and it makes sense to know as much about the Dark Lord as possible, but if I know you headmaster—and forgive my impertinence," she added carefully, "I think I know you fairly well, to some degree, and—well, you always have a point to these sort of things. A crux to the matter. What is the end revelation for this?"

The headmaster had gazed at her for a moment, his expression wizened and contemplative, as though he was quietly debating whether or not to tell her.

At last, he said, "Horcruxes, Hermione."

At Hermione's frank, bewildered look, he peered down at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"I trust, given your expression, that you do not know what that is?"

Now, Hermione thought back to her earlier conversation while stroking Buckbeak's withers, in a way that caused the hippogriff to lower his neck and close his eyes in relaxed enjoyment. He occasionally made a lazy snap at the squirrel bones littering the ground around his feet, but otherwise, the hippogriff was content, and silent. Hagrid, however, was talking.

"Aragog's gettin' worse, an' I don' think he's goin' ter get better," he told Hermione gruffly, but it was easy to see that the half-giant was struggling to hold back the urge to cry. "Don' know how much longer he's got ter live… anyway," he added, as Buckbeak caught a freshly-cooked squirrel in the air and snapped it between his beak, "I'd ask yeh ter take a look at him, mebbe give me an' estimate… have yeh check 'im out, since yer good at tha' kind o' thing… but I'm not sure it'd be safe, mind."

"It's not like I'm an expert on Acromantulas, Hagrid," Hermione reminded him. Hagrid gave her a pointed, slightly amused look with his beetle-black eyes, and she amended, "I've read about them, but I've got no practical experience, no experience at all. You know I took a look at Professor Dumbledore's hand, but that doesn't exactly preclude me to playing doctor for Aaragog."

"Ar, well," Hagrid said, leaning back with a sigh. "It can't be helped, then…"

He abruptly changed the subject, and asked, "How's yer son, Hermione?"

"Good," Hermione said, brightening. "He's doing fine. We had him here over Christmas, but since he's still pretty restricted, he couldn't come down to see you…"

Hagrid waved a hand. "Ah, don' worry about it. I was pretty busy looking after Aragog meself." He peered down at her. "I still remember what he was like as a baby—always sittin' on the floor and pettin' Fang until he knocked all me pots and pans off their hooks…"

It took Hermione a moment to realize he was referring to Selenius and not Aaragog, and then laughed. "It seems like it was only yesterday, doesn't it?"

Hagrid chuckled, but then his expression became serious. "For us. But I don' think Harry was the only one torn up an' lost when Sirius died."

Hermione winced. "You know how close Selenius and Sirius were… practically inseparable…"

"Whenever I visited Headquarters, I'd always find 'em playing chess or summat," Hagrid explained. "The way Sirius was always goin' on about Selenius, it was like he had his bes' friend back. I think it was good for 'em both, ter be honest."

Hermione swallowed, and tried to fight back the watering in her eyes. She knew Hagrid was right. "Sirius was lonely without James, even with me and Remus. Sometimes, I think he used to get Harry and James mixed up, too. But Selenius… I think Selenius was just as lonely, and the two of them had a lot in common…" she sniffled, despite herself, blaming the way her nose stuffed up on the cold, before she added, "Sirius doted on Harry, and loved him like a son, but he didn't get to see Harry all that often… so he and Selenius grew close. Really close."

Hagrid nodded. "People don' get over tha' kind o' stuff quickly, like," he said wisely. "It was like that with me dad… he was always there fer me, an' then one day, he jus' wasn'. People move on with their lives, but stuff like that stays with 'em still."

Hermione could only nod.

"Still, it was interestin'," Hagrid said thoughtfully, as Buckbeak crunched the last squirrel in his sharp mouth. "Snape an' Sirius were like two dogs, always goin' at each other. Sirius hated Snape, but he loved Snape's son. Funny how tha' happens, eh?"

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~Anubis Ankh