Chapter 21: Outrage

Severus exited the Great Hall, scowling at the profusion of hearts and flowers that had been draped along the corridor. Minerva had even transfigured glitter filled balloons, one of which popped over his head as he hurried toward the dungeons.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, brushing the offending red sparkles off his robes. He shut himself in his office, retrieving a pile of essays that needed grading.

Little Known Uses for Arrowroot
by Hermione Granger

The first one was hers. Of course it was. There was no escaping her, it seemed, even when she was hundreds of miles away.

Severus inspected the essay, marking it with an "O" before he set it aside. He tried to focus on the next one, skimming it twice before he sighed in frustration.

Valentine's Day at the Burrow…

He had no right to be upset. Really, it was none of his business. He'd pushed her away, after all, telling her that nothing could happen between them. The fact that she was moving on with her life…

But she wasn't moving on. That was the problem.

"He wants me to be someone I'm not."

All those things she'd said on New Year's Eve… why would she choose to resume such a miserable relationship? Weasley didn't want her to continue her education, cared nothing for her goals or ambitions. The boy was a spoiled brat, ignorant and ungrateful and… to call her selfish. After everything she'd done on his behalf?

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Severus had distanced himself for her sake, fearful that an entanglement with him would have a negative impact on life. But if she was just going to go running back to Weasley…

He rose from his chair, cursing under his breath as he paced the room. The misery, the frustration, weeks of self-denial… he'd told himself it was for the best, a lie he'd almost come to believe. Now? It all seemed futile, leaving him to wonder why he hadn't just finished what he'd started. True, he'd been protecting himself as well, but even that seemed foolish now. The idea that his feelings would fade if he distanced himself?

Foolish. Beyond stupid. If anything, the opposite was true, made worse by countless unanswered questions. What if he had gone through with it? What if he'd joined her in bed that night rather than escorting her back to her room? He'd imagined it countless times, desperate to know what it felt like to be inside her. Why had he passed on such an opportunity?

Then, of course, was the biggest question of all…

If he hadn't pushed her away, would she still be at the Burrow?

By the time Severus emerged from the dungeons, the hearts and flowers were gone. It was a drab Monday morning, bare stone walls a welcome sight as he arrived in the Great Hall.

"Good morning, Severus."

"Morning," he murmured, helping himself to a cup of coffee. He lifted it to his lips, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione wasn't there.

Had she overslept? Skipped breakfast to work on a project, perhaps? She had been immersed in her schoolwork lately.

But then she didn't show up for lunch either.

"Is Miss Granger all right?" Flitwick inquired at dinner.

"She's not feeling well," Minerva said. "I told her to take the day off."

"Nothing too serious, I hope?"

"Just an upset stomach. She probably ate too many sweets over the weekend."

"Or too much of Molly's cooking." Flitwick smiled.

"The hospital wing is fully stocked with indigestion potions," Severus said. "Did you not offer her one?"

Minerva shook her head. "She didn't want a potion. Said she'd rather spend the day in bed."

Skiving off to take a nap? That wasn't like Hermione. It was so unlike her, in fact, that Severus knew for certain that something was wrong. His first instinct was to go check on her, though he reminded himself that he'd ignored her for more than a month. Besides, she was still staying in the Room of Requirement. There was no way to reach her unless he barged in without invitation.

No. Better to leave her alone, at least for the night. If she didn't show up for Potions tomorrow…

Severus didn't have to wait until Potions to see Hermione. She was present at breakfast, seated in her usual place at the Gryffindor table. Oddly enough, she was sitting alone – Ginevra Weasley shot her a poisonous look before joining a group of fifth years.

What was that all about? Why was Hermione behaving so strangely? Severus watched her fora good five minutes, and she never looked up from her plate. She wasn't eating either, her shoulders slumped, hair even messier than usual.

Was she really unwell? If so, why was she here instead of the hospital wing? And why did that obnoxious Weasley girl…

A flock of owls swooped into the hall, disturbing his train of thought. One of them hovered over Hermione, dropping a bright red envelope on the table. A Howler… what the hell?

RON IS DEVASTATED AND FOR GOOD REASON! HOW COULD YOU JUST RUN OFF LIKE THAT WITHOUT…

Molly's voice faded, replaced by a shout from Weasley.

YOU ARE THE MOST SELFISH PERSON IN THE WORLD!

A Howler written by multiple people? What could possibly warrant…

IF YOU DON'T COME HOME AND WORK THIS OUT, I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU. NEVER!

Hermione dropped the Howler, tears streaming down her face as she fled from the hall. Severus barely heard the whispers, both staff and students gossiping about the unexpected drama. He was too busy staring at Ginevra Weasley, who looked strangely satisfied.

She'd pay for that. As soon as she gave him the slightest excuse, he'd assign so many detentions she wouldn't see the Quidditch pitch for a month. In the meantime, he had no choice but to pretend nonchalance, shrugging as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

What had Hermione done? He couldn't imagine anything that might've provoked such a reaction, especially since she'd only been at the Burrow for a couple days. Had she tried to resume her relationship with Weasley, only to realize that it wasn't going to work? That was certainly possible, but why the histrionics? A bloody Howler in the middle of breakfast…

New Year's Eve.

He exhaled sharply, dropping his fork with a clatter.

Had she told Weasley what happened that night? He didn't want to think so, yet what else could it be? If she'd chosen to unburden her conscience… if he'd been her excuse for ending the relationship…

Yes, that would definitely explain the Howler.

Severus strode into the classroom, struggling to maintain a stoic facade. If Hermione had told Weasley, which appeared to be the case, what would that mean? It wasn't just Weasley, after all. His sister obviously knew as did his mother, the latter of whom happened to be good friends with Minerva.

Had Molly shared their secret yet? Frankly, he was surprised she hadn't revealed it in the Howler itself, their private lives subjected to the scrutiny of the entire school. Either way, it was only a matter of time before he was sacked.

He could handle that. He'd gone through it less than a year ago, after all, accused of much greater crimes than being involved with a student. But Hermione…

She arrived for class at that very moment, taking a seat in the back of the room. Her eyes were still red from crying, her expression despondent as she pulled her textbook out of her bag.

"Today's potion is highly complex," he said. "As such, I expect your undivided attention. It is crucial to remember… Miss Weasley!"

"Sir?"

"Detention with me this Saturday."

"For what?"

"I told you to pay attention."

"I was!"

"You were looking at Miss Granger."

"Only for a second! You're giving me detention for that?"

"Yes," he said, "and I'm quite prepared to give you another if you choose to argue the point."

Ginevra might've been obnoxious, but she was smart enough to know when to shut up. She scowled, eyes fixed on him.

"Remember what I said about Shrivelfig," he continued. "It must be chopped, not crushed, no matter what the book says. You may begin."

He returned to his desk, keeping an eye on the students as they prepared their ingredients. In truth, he'd never been more distracted, his mind buzzing with questions. He'd been through the "how" and "what" – now he was attempting to understand the "why". Why would she have told Weasley the truth? Why, when nothing good could come of it? Surely she must've known…

"Miss Granger?"

"Sir?" She looked up, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Do you recall what I said about porcupine quills?"

"Add three?"

Two. I told you to add two."

Rising from his seat, he strode to the back of the classroom. He peered in her cauldron, shaking his head as he vanished the ruined potion.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"See me after class."

Hermione followed Snape into his office, stomach churning with anxiety as he shut the door with a flick of his wand.

"I'm sorry about the potion."

"Bugger the potion. That is not what I wish to discuss."

She'd been afraid of that, remembering the way he'd stared at her during the Howler incident.

"What is it, then?"

"Do I need to state the obvious?" he said. "That message you received…"

"I don't want to talk about it. Are we done?"

"Not until you tell me what happened."

She shook her head. "My private life is none of your business."

"Like hell it isn't."

"What?"

"If it involves me," Snape said, "I have every right to know. Whatever you told Weasley, whether you did it out of anger or…"

"What are you talking about?" She gasped, her eyes widening. "You think I told him about you?"

"I don't know what to think."

"Then maybe you should've asked instead of accusing me of something I didn't do."

"You didn't…"

"No," she said. "I didn't."

"You're right." Snape sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"Is that what you think of me?"

"Pardon?"

"If I'd told Ron, you would've been sacked. You really think I'd do something like that just because I was mad at you?"

"No, I don't. I just couldn't imagine anything else that would've provoked such a reaction."

"Ron and I had a fight," she said. "It's no big deal."

"Subjecting you to a Howler is no big deal?"

She shrugged. "You know how they are."

"Overdramatic? Notorious for getting in each other's business? I'm well aware. Still, this seems excessive, even for them."

Part of her wanted to tell him to bugger off. She couldn't bring herself to do it, however, unable to remember a time she'd felt so alone. Lonely, frightened, humiliated… no one else seemed to care how she felt. No one but Snape, who was obviously willing to keep prodding her until she told him the truth.

"They hate me."

"Hate you? Why?"

"Because I… I'm…"

The words caught in her throat, her eyes filling with tears as she buried her face in her hands.

"What is it?" he said. "Tell me."

"I can't."

"Whatever it is…"

She didn't want to say it, yet what choice did she have? This wasn't the kind of secret that could stay hidden.

"I'm pregnant."

Severus froze, convinced he'd misheard her. She'd spoken in a whisper, her voice catching on a sob.

"What did you say?"

She hesitated, clearing her throat. "I'm pregnant."

There was no mistaking her this time, the words echoing off the walls like a death knell.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Severus shook his head, thoughts scattering in a thousand directions. Pregnant? Bloody hell…

"How?" he said, only to realize what a stupid question that was. "What I mean is…"

"I took a potion. It didn't work."

"Potion?" he said. "What potion?"

"I… I found it in a book."

"What book?"

"Revnwyn's Reproductive Remedies."

"Do you still have it?"

"The book?"

"The potion."

"A little bit," she said. "Why?"

"Bring it to me."

He watched her leave, sighing heavily as he leaned back in his chair.

Pregnant.

It must've happened over winter break. That was the only logical explanation, which would put her at around seven or eight weeks. Still early, yet she'd start to show in another month or two. After that, there'd be no stopping it, the child set to be born in early fall.

Ronald Weasley's child. Bloody hell…

"Here," Hermione said, shutting the door behind her before she handed him the vial. He opened it up and sniffed it, several drops splattering on his robes as he slammed it on the desk.

"Why?" he said, throat so tight he could barely get the words out. "Why would you take a Fertility Potion?"

"What? It's not…"

"Smell it."

She leaned over the desk, frowning as she inhaled. "What is that?"

"Mandrake Root."

"I didn't use any Mandrake Root."

"You brewed this yourself?"

She nodded. "I checked the instructions three times just to be sure."

"And yet you still got it wrong. Why is that?"

"I did not get it wrong! I can tell you exactly how I did it, which ingredients I used and how much of each!"

"Indeed? Then tell me."

The process she detailed was flawless, even by his standards. Unfortunately, that only added to his confusion. If she hadn't messed it up…

"I don't know what happened," she said, "but it wasn't me."

"Could someone have switched…" He trailed off, cursing under his breath.

"What?"

"Ashwood."

She shook her head. "I didn't brew it until he was caught."

"After I replaced my ingredients?"

"Yes."

Severus summoned his teapot, retrieving a pair of cups and saucers. "Well then, perhaps someone else…"

"I don't see how," she said. "No one knew I was making it, and I left for the Burrow the next day."

"What about Weasley?"

"No."

"This is exactly what he wanted. You said so yourself."

"Yeah, but he wouldn't have tricked me into it."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! He's not evil!"

No, the boy wasn't evil. Self-centered and immature, perhaps, but not evil. Besides, he'd never been particularly talented at potions. What had been done to Hermione required considerable skill, not to mention a great deal of calculation.

"Very well," Severus said. "We'll put that aside for now. In any case, it doesn't explain the Howler."

"I guess not."

He nodded. "When is your next class?"

"Now."

"Flitwick?"

"Yes."

"I'll see that your absence is excused."

"That's okay," she said, not quite meeting his eyes as she rose from her chair. "I'm fine now, really."

That was a lie and they both knew it. She just couldn't bring herself to ask for help or even admit that she needed someone to talk to. Was it her pride? Some absurd notion that she was inconveniencing him? Either way, Severus wasn't having it.

"Miss Granger."

"What?"

"Sit down."

She looked relieved, dropping her bag as she settled back into her seat.

"My next class starts in half an hour," he said. "I'm free until then."

Pouring them both a cup of tea, he slid hers across the desk. He even summoned a plate of sandwiches, remembering her untouched breakfast.

"I can't eat those."

"Why not?"

"Morning sickness."

"Ah," he said, vanishing the food with a flick of his wand. It still seemed impossible that she was pregnant, slender body swallowed up by her school robes. If anything, she looked like she'd lost weight, face pale and drawn, cheekbones standing out in sharp relief.

"That's how I figured it out. Well, Molly did."

"She does have considerable experience in such matters."

"I thought she'd be angry. Honestly, I would've preferred that. But she was…"

"Positively thrilled, no doubt."

Hermione nodded, pausing to take a sip of tea. "I'm still in shock, and she's standing there gushing about her first grandchild. The next thing I know, she's off shopping for baby clothes, making plans to move me in. Ron's talking about a bloody wedding…"

"That isn't what you want, I take it?"

"Of course it isn't! That's why I broke up with him in the first place!"

"But…" Severus hesitated, not knowing how to phrase the next question. He'd been so careful to suppress his own emotions, certain they'd only complicate what was already a difficult situation.

"Valentine's Day at the Burrow," he said, his voice casual. "I assumed you'd reconciled."

"What? No! We were supposed to spend it together as friends!"

"I see," he said, chiding himself for jumping to yet another conclusion. "Go on."

"I missed what we used to have. You know, before all the other stuff got in the way? But now…" She paused, taking a shuddering breath. "I'm never going to get that back."

Severus thought she was better off without it, though he chose not to say so. Instead, he sighed, pouring them both another cup of tea.

"I shouldn't have let it happen."

"You did take precautions," he pointed out. "Whatever went wrong with that potion…"

"No," she said. "I shouldn't have done it, potion or no potion. Deep down, I already knew the relationship was over. I just wasn't ready to admit it."

"So it was a final attempt to salvage…"

She nodded. "We'd argued about it all summer. He never understood why I didn't want to… I didn't either, to tell you the truth. Eventually, I decided to come back to Hogwarts, hoping the distance would help."

"So you tried to fix your relationship by getting as far away from him as possible?"

"I know it sounds silly, but…"

"Sounds perfectly logical to me." Severus shrugged. "I know I find Weasley much more tolerable when I never have to see him."

Hermione laughed, the first time he'd heard her do so in weeks.

"Honestly?" she said. "I did, too. I missed him sometimes, but it felt good to have my own space. I could read all I wanted, focus on my assignments without having to do his. No attempts to make me jealous, none of those stupid fights…"

"Doing another student's homework? That's against the rules, Miss Granger."

"Oh, please. You must've known."

He smirked. "Go on."

"It's just… I felt bad about it. No matter what I did, I couldn't make myself feel what I thought I was supposed to feel. I was supposed to miss him, supposed to want…"

"Why?"

"What?" She blinked, obviously taken aback by the question.

"Why were you supposed to?"

"Because it took so much for us to get together."

"Perhaps it shouldn't have."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes obstacles exist for a reason."

"You're right," she said. "Unfortunately, that doesn't change what happened."

"It does change your perspective, I hope?"

She nodded. "I can't force myself to feel something that isn't there. I know that now, and I know it isn't my fault."

"No, it isn't."

"I also know I can't marry him. I just wish they'd stop acting like I have no other choice."

"You do have a choice," Severus said, "regardless of what the Weasleys think."

This was the point he'd been trying to get to, though a glance at the clock told him he'd run out of time. Sighing heavily, he drained the last of his tea as he rose to his feet.

"I have to get to class. Can you meet me here tonight?"

"What time?"

"9 PM."