Chapter 14: Facing The Old World
A/N: Happy New Year to everyone! And my gift to my lovely readers on this new beginning is a new chapter! Hope you like it. :)
Saturday came earlier than anticipated or perhaps Hermione had anticipated too much for the day in her nervousness.
Though she had consented to go to the Headquarters, she didn't think she was ready to face the Wizarding World once again. A night before the scheduled Order meeting, she had laid in bed and given her decision deep thought. She had started associating Wizards and magic, more or less, to the attack. Though Hermione was in almost constant touch with magic through her Occlumency lessons, she had lost the inclination to do magic herself.
But on the more logical side, she knew she could not estrange herself from the World she belonged to—she was a witch and no amount of aversion to the Wizarding Universe could change that. It was the only home left for her. Her two best friends, her school, her prospects of a career—everything she would be was in the Wizarding World. Most importantly, the war that she would fight in was calling her back to take her place in the Wizarding World.
At the end, she had firmly decided not to run away anymore. Once Hogwarts came into session again, she wouldn't have much opportunity to hide anyway. She did not want to face her friends, first time after the tragedy, in school or on the train. She needed to try if she had to remain sane among so many students in school.
It was decided that Snape would Apparate to the Grimmauld Place after Hermione. She was to be accompanied by Professor McGonagall who had been gracious enough to take her along. They had decided upon a story which Hermione was to tell everyone.
By Seven, Hermione was pacing in the living room of Snape's house, waiting in front of the Floo for Professor McGonagall tp arrive. Hermione had worn Wizarding robe after a long time—that alone let her know how she had estranged herself from her people already.
From what Hermione surmised to be his room, Snape came out. He was dressed in formal robe and travelling cloak. He was every bit the imposing picture of the man Herself had known since her First year. Yet, now when she looked at him, she could not quite bring herself to be intimidated of him in the same way that she had been in past. That, Hermione reflected, was a good enough change. She did not have to be intimidated of him, anyway.
"Miss Granger," he caught her attention. "I believe you're ready."
"I am," Hermione replied. She was almost certain that he was going to tell her not to reveal anything to her friends. She waited, having even thought of a biting remark to retort with, but he never spoke again.
In fact when she looked at him again, she had to stifle a chuckle. Hermione watched with quiet amusement as Snape spotted Crookshanks curled up on an armchair. He frowned and for a moment, Hermione was certain he was going to speak to Crooks when he snapped his mouth shut and imperceptibly shook his head.
The fireplace came to life, announcing Professor McGonagall's arrival. After a quick word of formal word, the lady stepped through. She, too, was dressed in formal robe for the meeting, her hair in a prim bun that had often made Hermione envious of her manageable hair.
"Severus," the Professor greeted and received a nod from him. "Miss Granger," she offered Hermione a rare smile.
"Good evening, Professor," Hermione greeted. "Thank you for Apparating me along."
"I am glad that you decided to come," her Head of House said kindly. "We must hurry. See you at the Headquarters, Severus."
Hermione side-along Apparated with Professor McGonagall outside the Number Twelve. Hermione did not dare to leave her Professor's arm until she was standing firmly on her feet. The Professor, too, never objected. It was her second Side-along and she was coming to despise the way of travel.
Hermione eyed the old house with trepidation. The residents inside would pity her. And as much as Hermione had tried to come to terms with her loss, their words would shatter her composure.
Her Head of House briefly placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You will do fine." Unable to voice her nervous thoughts, Hermione politely nodded.
"Come," the older witch led the way, and Hermione followed.
After knocking on the door, it was answered by Remus. Their old Defence Professor looked tired and had some fresh cuts on his otherwise calm face. Hermione mentally calculated when the last full moon was. The weariness seemed to be an obvious result.
"Minerva," he greeted the older witch with a gentle smile.
Then, he looked at Hermione and she almost cringed at the sympathetic look that dawned his face. "Hermione," he said softly, "I am glad that you came." She forced a smile. "How are you doing?"
At a loss of what to answer, she said in a small voice, "I'm fine. How're you, Sir?"
"I am alright," the man was eyeing her with wariness as if she would break at a touch. "I haven't been your Professor for a while now. Please, just call me Remus."
To that, Hermione returned a polite nod.
Behind her, a crack of Apparition resounded. Hermione glanced back to find Snape. He walked up to the house, wearing the mask of impassiveness as he so often did.
While Hermione was watching him idly, Professor McGonagall nudged her gently. Hermione all but gasped as she reminded herself not to let the others know that she had seen the man after the last term at Hogwarts at ended.
"Sir," she quickly nodded to Snape. Something about that gesture sent a flash of disconcertment on his face, long enough for her to spot. Yet, he nodded curtly to her greeting.
"Severus," Remus sounded friendly. "Good to see you."
"I do not return the sentiment, I'm afraid," Snape said acerbically and walked away after nodding to Professor McGonagall.
Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Snape's bitterness towards Remus had any basis or was he inherently that condescending in nature. He was, no doubt, sarcastic to the point of absurdity, among other things. Hermione did know about some kind of school rivalry between Snape and the Marauders...
Remus, however, did not look enraged or even bothered. He again turned his obscenely pity-filled eyes towards her. "Come, come. Your friends are waiting for you upstairs."
Hermione felt relieved to be away from the Remus' company as she made her way inside. She wanted to draw no attention at all to herself. But Mrs. Black, it seemed, was too determined to announce her arrival as her portrait started shrieking.
"Mudblood and Traitors darkening my house! Filthy Mudblood..."
Hermione huffed in annoyance but the tirade did not continue long before she heard the portrait squeak. Suddenly, there was silence. Hermione suspected Fred and George to have tampered with the portrait for good.
But when Snape appeared with his wand in hand, Hermione could only gape in surprise. "What did you...?" She mouthed.
But Snape did not reply, all he did was raising a brow. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk—which disappeared so instantly that Hermione wondered if she had only imagined it.
As Remus and Professor McGonagall's footsteps approached them, Snape turned on his heels and headed towards the kitchen.
Hermione tiptoed to the portrait and shook his head in amusement—Mrs. Black was glaring out of the portrait with furious eyes while her mouth had been gagged with the same curtain that was used to shut the incessant screeching down.
"Very apt," Hermione said to herself. The Charm would last the evening at least at any rate. I wonder, why has Snape not done that before?
As she was making her way towards the staircase, her presence did not go amiss by Mrs. Weasley.
"Hermione!" The lady beamed at her.
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione offered a smile, not too forced this time.
The plump lady wrapped her in her embrace. She was warm and her arms were firmly holding her. "Oh, child, how are you?"
Again, the amusement from the portrait drained her as she sensed the pity in Mrs. Weasley's tone. Even as the lady kept cooing sweet nothings in Hermione's ear in an attempt to provide comfort, Hermione could not help but realise what she was missing. Her hug was so similar to her Mum's, but not quite. Hermione returned the hug and tried to find some stolen comfort in the woman who was not her mother.
But she never found much.
When Mrs. Weasley gently pulled away, Hermione could feel a painful lump forming in her throat. Though the lady meant well, she reminded Hermione too much of her loss, just like Remus had...
"How're you, Dear?" The woman asked kindly.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," another forced smile did little to make it believable, though.
"We asked Albus so many times to let you come to The Burrow, but..." She shook her head sadly.
"No, it's alright, really," Hermione tried to sound assuring.
"Hardly," she took Hermione's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "In some time, it will all seem better. I promise."
Hermione did not believe it, because it would never be better for her. Her parents were not returning, the bond would not be broken ever... It would never be better. After the war, they would all be free, but for her. The very reason she was hesitant to come was these reminders of her situation that she was sure to get.
Mrs. Weasley held her by her shoulders like she often did her sons and Harry. Her scrutinising gaze only added to Hermione's discomfort. "You look so peaky. Haven't you been eating well?"
Hadn't she? Food has somewhat lost its taste. "Er... I have a small appetite..."
"Hey, Hermione!"
When Harry's voice echoed from the stairwell, Hermione felt grateful for the rescue.
"Hi," she returned rather awkwardly as he strode down the steps, grinning.
He glanced at Mrs. Weasley, then back at Hermione. "Come, we were all waiting for you."
"Oh, yes, yes, go see your friends, Dear," Mrs. Weasley patted her arm gently. "Don't leave before dinner."
As Harry led her up the stairs, she sighed deeply. She did not know how long could she have controlled her tears. Mrs. Weasley was a glaring reminder of the maternal energy Hermione was longed for laying in her cold bed that smelled so unfamiliar.
Harry stopped on a landing. The corridor looked empty and quiet. He turned to her. "How're you?"
"Fine," she repeated the safe answer.
"You're not," he said simply. "And it's fine not to be fine, I guess."
Hermione couldn't form words but remained looking everywhere but at her friend. No, she was not fine. She had not been fine for a while. But she liked to forget that. With familiar faces surrounding her,it was hard to forget how her life was reduced to something so unfathomable, how she could not confide in one of them and ask for help.
"Hermione..." He said softly, clutching her arms. She raised her head to look at him. There was no pity, no sympathy. Harry's green eyes only showed empathy and true understanding. He did not need to tell her that he understood... Because he knew exactly how she was feeling.
She couldn't comprehend when her eyes became moist. The next thing she knew, Harry was hugging her. Harry, who hardly ever more than returned a one-armed hug, was hugging her, because he understood.
Hermione buried her face into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry never said anything, no calming words, no false assurances. Because he knew that they both would never truly be whole again. Recovered, yes, in time. But some lost parts of them were lost forever.
He patted her head, with his other arm holding her as she broke into heart-wrenching sobs, not too different from her breakdown in the park a week ago. The lump in her throat gradually eased, making way for deeper sobs.
"Does it...ever stop hurting?" She mumbled, still crying into his shoulder.
"You will learn to see beyond the hurt," he replied, his voice forlorn.
Harry never asked her to shush or interrupted her as she wept. Hermione could hear him sniffing too once or twice. She imitated his actions and gently caressed his hair.
How bizarrely they were connected in their grieves.
She wished she could come clean to her friends, tell them how deeply she was stuck in the mess. But they were at a war and she had rules to abide by. She could not reveal the classified information to her friends, not yet. Confiding would also mean admitting to herself what her plight was, and she did not think she was ready yet. Maybe they could leave the other problems for another day.
UUUUUUU
When Hermione entered the room with Harry where Ron and Ginny were sitting, she gave them a watery smile in hesitation.
"At long last!" Ginny took her in a long hug. Since the DA, Ginny had become a closer friend to Hermione than she had been earlier.
"Hey," Ron came to stand close, giving a rather shy smile.
Feeling awkward, Hermione took a step back but offered a one-side hug to her friend. If Ron squeezed her a little too tight, she blamed it on his own awkwardness. Yet, at the back of her head, she was beginning to understand how very difficult it was going to be for them in the coming days.
"Are you...alright?" He asked, peering into her face.
Suddenly, Hermione was left feeling self-conscious about her bloodshot eyes and the tear tracks on cheeks. "Y-yes," she breathed.
They sat together and Hermione noted that Ginny and Harry's hand were touching in the folds of their robes. She gave them a small smile, to which Ginny grinned, Harry blushed and Ron didn't pay any notice.
"So what did you do this summer, besides studying that is?" Ginny asked. They seemed to have established a silent understanding to steer clear of
the more dangerous topics.
"I actually do a part time job at a bakery," Hermione replied.
"Really? So you can bake and all?" Ron perked up. He always did when it came to food.
Hermione smiled. "No. I help the owner around."
"Beh," his interest was lost.
"Good thing that you aren't cooking around the bakery or the poor owner would have gone into losses," Ginny laughed. "I remember what you made out of banana bread last summer."
"That was a disaster," Hermione agreed, remembering the state of the Grimmauld Place kitchen.
"When did that happen?" Harry asked, confused.
"You were still at your relatives then," Ginny replied.
"Oh, I must have been eating rotten bananas myself then," he snorted.
"Fred and George are attending the meeting. Prats!" Ron groused.
"It's a good thing for us, you idiot," Ginny rolled her eyes. "They'll tell us what's happening then."
"If they're not bound by the Oath of Secrecy," Hermione quickly added.
"Oh, yes, we didn't think of that," Harry said sheepishly.
"I don't think they're really bound by any Oaths," Ginny added.
"So, you were gonna tell us something?" Ron asked, leaning back in his chair.
"Yeah, well..." Harry hesitated.
Ginny got up. "You guys do your secret talks while I'm going to try to eavesdrop into the meeting."
Harry looked at her with apprehension. To which she gave him a smirk of understanding. Then Ginny was gone, leaving only the three of them in the room.
"When did she become un-nosy?" Ron snorted.
"Ron, she was never nosy,"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Suddenly, she felt some semblance of normalcy return to her. Maybe rolling eyes at Ron, talking to Harry and wanting to eavesdrop into the Order meeting could actually help.
"Yeah? Tell me 'bout it," he said. "Anyway, go on, Harry."
Both of them shifted their attention to Harry. He took a deep breath and gave them
a sheepish look. "Dumbledore told me the...Prophecy."
UUUUUUU
Severus watched the meeting unfold, beginning with Albus' usual way of welcoming the members. Moody, he noted, was eyeing him with his magical eye. Shacklebolt was looking forlorn about the loss of Aurors in the constant attacks at Diagon Alley and Muggle England. Nymphadora Tonk, Severus noted with disinterest, was throwing clandestine glances at Lupin, who in turn was either ignoring her or turning a shade of red if they caught eye. Beauty and the Beast, is it? He mentally snorted.
Albus was subtly giving Minerva more lead than she usually had. So the old man had heeded his advice, Severus marked with some satisfaction. In the coming months, it would be only beneficial to their side if Albus taught Minerva all that she needed to know to head the Order during the war.
The Weasley twins were filling them on the attacks in the Diagon Alley, having opened a shop in the market. The eldest Weasley boy had information from Gringotts. But it was not news to Severus that the Dark Lord was trying to draw the Goblins' support.
Arthur Weasley was narrating the Ministry strategies which were as miserable as Severus had expected. Molly Weasley had little to contribute but expressed her worries about Hogwarts and the safety of the students. Albus explained the new security measures in brief. The reinforcement of wards would have merits, he agreed.
All in all, Severus found the meeting banal at best. He would have better unitised his time brewing. Another headache was beginning to annoy him. If the Dark Lord doesn't kill me, it will most definitely be a brain haemorrhage.
"Severus," Albus prompted, "Any news from Tom?"
"Nothing more than you are already aware of, Headmaster," he replied. He always felt a slight hesitation discussing his meetings with the Dark Lord in the company of everyone.
"Nothing new, eh?" Moody's magical eye darted to his face rather fanatically. "All these attacks happening and you know nothing?"
Before Severus could reply, Minerva said, "Alastor, Severus' intel has prevented seven attacks from happening in the last two months alone."
"And there've been at least double the number of attacks that had happened, Minerva," Moody countered.
"The Dark Lord is not an idiot," Severus said with austerity. "Insane, most certainly. But not imbecile enough to put all eggs in one basket. He does not confide in me more than he deems necessary."
"One'd think Death Eaters had more to contribute," the old Auror said bitterly.
"One would think you have entirely too much knowledge about the Death Eaters," Severus said silkily.
"What're you trying to imply!" Moody retorted, his wand almost in his hand.
Severus, for his part, simply leaned back in his chair, gracefully. "Such simple use of words, Moody. Yet, you find them difficult to comprehend?"
"Snape!" Moody was on his feet.
"Gentlemen," Albus called them to order. "Alastor, please sit down." Throwing a viscous glare at Severus, the eccentric ex-Auror complied.
Except that bit of amusement, the rest of the meeting consisted of inane information and banal ideas. Nothing much was established except the few changes in Hogwarts security inputs, and assigning of a few more Order members in the Ministry. Severus gave the names of confirmed supporters of the Dark Lord in the Ministry, but other that his word and insipid memories, Severus could not produce any evidence of that. Though Albus took him for his word, Shacklebolt did not look convinced. That was nothing new. He had been screaming about the leak since months. But the Ministry employees in the Order had continued to disregard his intel saying that the said supporters were at a very low level in the hierarchy of the Ministry of Magic and thus pose no significant threat.
After the meeting was concluded, Severus was more than eager to return to Spinner's End, having no intentions of remaining in the house more than necessary. Molly Weasley had insisted that he stayed for dinner, but as always, Severus declined.
"Severus," Albus stopped him before he could leave. "A word in private?"
Severus was almost certain that the discussion would be pertaining to Albus' deteriorating health. Albeit his potions, Severus could see his employer's lack of dexterity and grace in his gait. The signs were subtle enough to go unnoticed, but the Potions Master's scrutinising gaze missed little.
He accompanied Albus to the Library of the house, away from the hubbub of the kitchen. "I have taken a decision, Severus," the old Headmaster said as he they stepped in.
"Regarding Minerva's succession of your position, I presume," Severus said.
Albus smiled in what seemed to be amusement. "Not so soon, my boy. I am still very much capable, won't you agree?"
Severus resisted his urge to roll his eyes. "Decided what, then?"
Albus' twinkling eyes and grandfatherly persona revealed it was nothing quite as serious as his health. "I have decided to give you the position of the Defence Professor."
"Ah, so I see how you either expect my resignation or my demise by the end of the term," Severus snorted derisively. There was no proved evidence to the Dark Lord's curse to the position—except the mishaps that had plagued the previous instructors. "The Dark Lord will be impressed."
"Thus, my reasoning," Albus replied.
That piece of news was meant to please the Dark Lord, as he could claim to be teaching the students more Dark Arts and less Defence. Moreover, Severus teaching Defence also implied that the students would not be trained enough to fight in the war.
"Who will take my position?" Severus asked out of mere curiosity than any concern for the 'future of the Wizarding children'.
"I have talked Horace into coming out of retirement," Albus told him. The Headmaster was fond of his old friend, Slughorn—Severus' own Potions Professor in school and a partial man who was blindly inclined towards the influential students rather than the intelligent ones.
Severus sneered but abstained himself from commenting. "Anything else?"
"You seem angry, my boy," Albus assessed.
"I am merely concerned about the Order's chairmanship after you," he said blandly.
Something akin to doubt flickered in the old man's gaze. "Would you like to confess something, Severus?"
Severus frowned in confusion.
"A desire to become my successor, perhaps?"
"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Albus!" Severus snarled. "Even if you were to present the position to me on a platter, I would still kick the plate onto your face. In fact, I have started to pity Minerva."
The doubt was again replaced by the infuriating twinkle. "Never fear, my boy, I will see to everything before the time comes."
Severus heartily hoped for the same but the hope, he could not deny, was pathetically weak.
He was on the way to leave the house and Apparate to the Spinners End when Minerva stopped him.
"Severus, I think congratulations are in order for your new post," the witch said with a tight-lipped smile.
"Hardly, I'd say," he said dismissively.
"Oh, come now, Severus, everybody knows how you have yearned for the post," Minerva said amusedly.
"Yes, after all, I am too eager to find out how the accursed position does me some good," he said sarcastically. "I must be on my way before my head explodes."
Minerva laughed, "I could see how you enjoyed the meeting today."
"With the little banter with my dear peer, Moody? Of course, I did. Thoroughly so," he said smoothly.
"Alastor behaves like an idiot, sometimes," Minerva shook her head.
"That is an understatement, Madam," he flung his travelling cloak over his shoulders. Then he stopped again, "I am leaving. Would you mind Apparating Miss Granger back?"
"Of course, I will," she immediately agreed. Severus did know that despite teachers were not supposed to favour a specific student, Hermione Granger was covertly much favoured by Minerva. "How is she, Severus?"
"She is present in the same house. You can very well ask her that, instead," he said with a bit of annoyance.
"How are you both doing, I mean," she elaborated. "With each other."
"We have been civil," he replied tersely.
"So I take it, she does not blame you anymore?" She asked curiously.
"And why, Madam, would you presume that?" Severus folded his arms to his chest. "Granger is well within her rights to place the blame on me."
"You know that's not true, Severus," Minerva said in a low voice. "She has a right to know the truth."
"She is cognizant to the truth, Minerva," he countered. "If you have forgotten, I must remind you the extent of my actions."
"If anything, you provided her parents with a painless death." Minerva said firmly.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! I am sick and tired of this discussion."
"And what about her parents' burial? She does not know that you seen to it," she continued. "Bringing her belongings to her before the Death Eaters could vandalise her house; ordering food for her from Hogwarts everyday; you even alerted Albus that the Grangers could be targeted-"
"That is enough," he said firmly and held up a hand.
"Severus," Minerva took a step towards him.
"I must be on my way," he said and turned on his heels.
An apology for raping her cannot be that I had helped burying her dead parents after killing them with my wand.
Before he could finally leave through the main door, his eyes fell upon Granger, sitting on the staircase talking to the youngest Weasley boy. She looked more amicable than she had in the previous months, he noted. With satisfaction, he decided that at least the trip to the infernal house had done some good to the girl.
Severus left the Number Twelve and Apparated away, carrying a mental image of Granger's relaxed face.
UUUUUUU
Before leaving the secrecy of the room, Hermione once again squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Don't forget, we're in this together."
"Yeah, Mate," Ron clapped his back.
Harry gave them a smile that seemed more or less strained. Yet, he looked relieved having confided in his friends.
In all honesty, Hermione was not all that shocked by the revelation of the content of the Prophecy. Perhaps, they had somehow already determined that it would be Harry on whom the responsibility of killing Voldemort was to befall. For that, she felt guilty. Harry was too young to undertake such tasks. In her mind, she willed herself to aid her friend in any way, shape or form that she could. Hermione had no doubt that Ron would do the same.
"Secret talks done?" Ginny met them in the hallway.
"Well..." Harry was blushing.
"Come, let's see if we can get something relevant out of my brothers."
"Hermione?" Ron called.
Ron stopped Hermione while Harry and Ginny went ahead to inquire Fred and George.
"Can we talk?" He asked with some hesitancy.
"Yes, sure," Hermione said.
He sat on the stairs and pulled her to sit beside him, too. Hermione complied and looked at him expectantly. She had an idea that the conversation would be about her ordeal. And though Ron was a dear friend, she doubted how much he could relate to her.
"We didn't really get a chance to talk..." He said, eyeing her with hesitation.
"Yes, well... Harry had to tell us about the Prophecy," she said. "It must have been hard for him to keep it all to himself this long."
"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "But I mean...we didn't talk after...your parents and all..."
"Ron," she sighed. "There is nothing to talk about, really. You know the details, and I don't think I can talk about how I'm feeling just yet."
"Yeah, I get it," he said softly. "Y'know if you wanna talk about it...I'll be here. Okay?"
She gave him a small but genuine smile. "I know."
He placed his hand over hers with hesitation. Hermione stopped herself from flinching. "You're...not alone. Okay?"
When she looked at his face, Hermione's heart clenched. It was so clear that he had feelings for her—feelings that she could never return. Hermione had read about the Infidelity Clause of the bond, too. But she had never given it much mind. But infidelity would result in the bond punishing her.
"Ron, I..." She looked at their hands, his was clammy but warm, big enough to cover her smaller one easily. She loved Ron, but not romantically. Or maybe she might if they gave each other the time a relationship demanded. Maybe without the convoluted bond to plague her, Ron would have been much more than just a friend...
She could not let Ron attach himself to her if she could not return his feelings—bond or no bond. She gave a very friendly smile to him, keeping any hint of a blush or shyness away, and patted his hand with her free one. That little gesture was supposed to convey to him that nothing romantic was building between them.
Or was it to convey the message to herself?
Ron gave a grin of his own. She knew that they would have to deal with this eventually and it would not be easy. But for the time being, she could at least show him that they shared only a friendship, a beautiful friendship, but only that. Perhaps someday, she would muster enough conviction to draw herself away from him completely...
"Come on, let's go down," she insisted.
"Yeah, I'm starving," he agreed. Hermione chuckled lightly at Ron's typical ways. Together, they went down for dinner.
Hermione noticed that Snape had left. She had never seen him dining at the Headquarters, anyway. And as reclusive as he was, it was only understandable.
Term was going to begin in a week, and she could pretend for some time then that everything was fine—normal. She would be busy enough to take her mind off of things...
But spending thirty minutes with Snape everyday... That would probably either be in class, or on days when she would not have a class, the Library would do. They might have to use a Charm of sorts to hide themselves from the other occupants of the Library. Or maybe they could simply continue with the Occlumency lessons. Thirty minutes only—she tolerated that and more of him, each day. It would not be a problem.
"Wotcher, Hermione!" Tonks almost startled her out of her thoughts. She turned to meet the young Auror with a smile. "Hi, Tonks."
They shared a quick hug and Tonks let go of her after giving her a friendly squeeze. "So how's it going?"
"Fine," she repeated almost unconsciously. "How was the meeting?"
"Boring," she shrugged. "Hey, aren't you joining the Order this September?"
"Yes, in September, I think," she grinned. "I'll be of age."
"Ah, good for us. We are a bit short on brains here," she snickered, glancing at Moody, but only good-naturedly. "So let's just say that you'll be attending the next meeting probably."
"Yes, I hope so," she smiled. That sparked some excitement in her. "Did you decide upon anything important?"
"Nah, just security measures at Hogwarts and yada yada," she casually slipped her arm around Hermione's shoulders and led her to the kitchen. "So you liking Wales, then?"
"Wales?" Hermione blinked.
"Aren't you living in the safe house in Cardiff?" Tonks inquired.
"Oh," Hermione hastily nodded. "Yes, I really like it..."
Tonks threw her a studying glance before shrugging out of it. Hermione could feel her heart racing. Did the Auror suspect their facade? "There a Public Library near the safe house," Hermione lied. "I like spending time there."
"Oh, great," Tonks looked convinced. "But just be careful in public, okay?"
"Hermione!" Fred and George called from where they were chatting with Harry.
"Hey, you two," she gave another smile and walked up to them. The twins each were at her side like their usual self.
"We have heard-" George began.
"-That you'll be joining the Order next month." Fred finished.
"Somebody's coming of age-"
"-Aren't they?"
"Guys!" Hermione chuckled.
"Well, we didn't get to join till we fled away and left school," Fred said.
"And we're so envious of the special treatment," George said with feigned seriousness.
"But we think-"
"-That you could do-"
"-Some real good here!"
"So we forgive you," they declared.
Hermione could feel herself smiling broadly—everything looked so normal, and for sometime she could pretend that the summer had never happened, that she had come straight from her house after bidding her parents a farewell with the promise of writing every week.
Tonks, Fred, George, Ginny—they never touched the sensitive topic with her, for which she was immensely grateful.
"Oh, c'mon, you prats," Ginny rolled her eyes. "You two are good for nothing. That's why you didn't get to join the Order.
"Now, now, little sister, too sharp-tongued, aren't we?" George grinned and Ginny just rolled her eyes again.
"The steak is awesome!" Ron called to them with a piece in his hand and crumbs sticking to the sides of his mouth.
"Ronald, eat at the table and grab a plate," Hermione chided by habit and Harry was suddenly coughing to hide his chuckle. Ron's ears turned red in response.
"Boys!" Ginny shook her head.
Everybody sat at the table when Mrs. Weasley called them to eat. The Headmaster joined them, too. Hermione still felt annoyed with the man, but the edge was gone. In fact, she felt a little embarrassed on her outburst earlier, but she made it a point not to apologise to him for he had been wrong in his comments.
"Why's he wearing one glove?" Ginny whispered.
"Something happened to his hand," Harry replied. "It's become kind of black... I think the Ministry duel with Voldemort had its toll on him."
"Yeah, I've heard he's about one fifty years old, Mate," Ron said, stuffing a piece of the chicken roast in his mouth.
"But he's still powerful enough to recover soon," Harry said, helping himself with some roast, too.
Hermione tried to remember if the Headmaster had had the injury on his hand that Harry was telling them about, the last time she had seen him. The Headmaster was certainly not wearing a glove and had his hand been blackening, as Harry had said, she would have seen it. Maybe, he had gotten the injury by some other means.
"Hermione," Harry broke her train of thoughts. "We're going to the Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy the supplies. Why don't you come with us, too?"
"Yeah, and you all can visit our shop afterwards," George added. "But nobody's getting any free merchandise, mind."
"Except our favourite investor, of course," Fred smirked.
"Investor?" Ron asked.
Harry suddenly coughed and automatically drew all attention to him. When he recovered, he asked her again. "Well?"
She really wanted to go, but she could not ask Professor McGonagall to keep Apparating her to and fro. "I've already ordered my books..." Hermione told them. "And I don't think I can, with the safe house being in Wales. It's a long distance."
"You were in Wales?" Ginny asked. "We didn't know that."
"Cool," Ron looked fascinated. "How was it?"
"Good," she said casually. So, only the members were told of the fake location, she presumed.
"That's fine," Fred said lightly, "We'll send a huge Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes care package for you, Hermione, to ward off creepy lovers."
Hermione laughed, feeling relaxed now. She saw Harry give a relieved smile of his own when she was laughing. I'm so grateful to have these people. Perhaps, it would not be so unbearable at school after all...
UUUUUUU
Hermione said her goodbyes before following Professor McGonagall out of the house. She had tactfully avoided meeting Remus' eye or even spending too long with Mrs. Weasley after their first interaction of the evening. She was feeling guilty for turning down their efforts but another look of pity and she would have said something to later regret.
Just a week, and on the first of September, everything would be relatively normal. That reminded her that she had only a few days to work with Mrs. Frost. The lady already knew that Hermione would be going back to her school soon. Mr. Mallard, Hermione had noticed, had been quite sad about it. He missed his daughter and enjoyed Hermione's company, and so did she.
Hermione did not know what to say when she was asked if she would return next year. She had given noncommittal replies. Even if she would have to return, she did not want to accept it—the reality of the situation.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, "I will be collecting you from Professor Snape's place in the morning of September First, and Apparate you to the King's Cross, by half past Ten."
"Thank you, Ma'am," she replied. "And I am sorry for causing you so much trouble..."
"Miss Granger, the apology is unnecessary," her Head of House said firmly. "Hermione?"
At the mention of her given name, Hermione looked at the Professor warily. The street outside the Black House were silent and almost eerie in the dark. "Yes, Professor?"
"I have something for you," she said, fishing through the pocket in her robe. She took a small vial out. The contents were shiny and swirling inside the glass.
"A memory?" Hermione instantly recognised.
The lady gave a nod. "These are Professor Snape's."
Hermione blinked. "Do you want me to give it to him for you, Professor?"
"No," the lady handed the vial to her. "I would ask you to see them."
"See them?" She looked at the vial, then to the lady. "Why?"
"Severus had provided a copy of his memories to Professor Dumbledore and me, as the Head and Deputy to the Order," the Professor explained. "The memories are a complete description of that night when your parents..."
Hermione was suddenly clutching the vial very tightly in her hand, but at the same time, she was loathing the contents. "I...can't."
"I can understand that it will be very difficult for you, Hermione," her Head of House placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "I will not insist upon it. You can do it in your time, or not all if so you wish. But I believe that it is imperative for you to know the whole truth, for your own peace of mind."
"I know what had happened, Ma'am," she felt a quaver in her voice. "I was right there... I was..." She trailed off.
"You had witnessed the events from your perspective, what you need is to watch the events from Professor Snape's perspective, too," she said gravely. "Why he did what he did. Whether he wished to do it or not. Most importantly, was he the perpetrator or a victim, himself."
"He is not a victim!" Hermione whispered sharply. "He...he had murdered them!"
"How can you draw that conclusion without considering the other side of the story? You're a person of logic." Professor McGonagall was calm in her speech. "These memories unfold the entirety of the events from when Professor Snape was summoned by Riddle until he Floo-called the Headmaster to his residence to inform him of the same. You will be cognizant to the whole truth once you watch these memories."
Hermione found her knuckles going white as her grip on the vial remained firm.
"I wanted to give you these memories earlier but I figured that you were not ready to revisit the events," the lady continued. "But Professor Snape did tell us how gallantly you handled the encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy."
"I was a mess," she mumbled, blood rushing to her face on recalling her breakdown in front of Snape later. But he did appreciate her, didn't he? Wait, what? Snape had appreciated her—Snape, who never- But of course, she had saved his hide, hadn't she? Or he would have had to take the brunt of her behaviour.
"Well, on a contrary, I believe you did exceptionally well," the hand on her shoulder gave a light squeeze. "I realise that you are ready now, Miss Granger. You do not deserve to be in the dark."
"But..." She stroked a thumb over the smooth glass. "But these are his memories. They're private." She recalled Harry telling them that he had trespassed into Snape's Pensieve. She had not been surprised when he had cancelled their arrangement later. But Harry's intrusion had not been intentional, at least. Whereas Hermione would be deliberately invading his privacy.
"You have all the right to know the truth," the Professor countered. "That night had changed you forever, Miss Granger. If you decide to watch the memories, I assure you that you will be well within your rights."
Hermione fiddled the vial in her fingers. "I will...condider it."
A/N: Some revelations ahead? Hmm, maybe.
I was so happy to see that my story is being liked by so many of you. Moreover, I feel blessed to have people reviewing and telling me what they think. Thank you soooo much for showing so much love! That's the only reason I'm updating rather than finishing my office work. :P