Chapter 15: One Step Forward, Two Steps Backwards
A/N: Many readers asked me why Minerva is so inclined to give Severus' memories to Hermione, breaching his privacy.
I'll answer that here. So, as it was mentioned before, Hermione is Minerva's favourite student. Not only that, but the old Deputy Headmistress is quite friendly to Severus, too. When she gave Hermione the memories, she had their best interests at heart. Because deep down she knows that the bond that binds Hermione and Severus together is unbreakable. Thus, they are pretty much stuck together for the rest of their lives—however long or short that may be. So she decided that it would be better if they live in camaraderie than with misunderstandings and hatred. I perceive Minerva to be a strong supporting character in the story.
I'll try to incorporate this part about the reasoning somewhere in the coming chapters, too.
That said, here's a huge thank you virtual hug coming your way for leaving reviews! :) I'll be happy to answer any queries you guys have.
"Ready," Granger nodded. Her fists, Severus noted, were not clenched anymore. The girl was indeed making significant progress. This would be the last Occlumency lesson at Spinner's End they would have.
The very next day, the First of September, they'd be back in Hogwarts. The summer had felt so lengthy, yet not quite. The debacle at the Department of Mysteries felt more than a decade ago.
His lesson plans for the Defence position were ready, he had already planned it when Albus had first hinted at the idea, right after the Ministry battle. He had selected topics such that he could convince the children of Death Eaters that he was doing Dark Lord's bidding, while teaching them what the students needed to learn to aid them in the war. Severus was no fool, he knew that despite their age, their qualifications, the students would take part in the war. The least he could do from his precarious position was to prepare them while he could.
He aimed his wand at the girl. "Legilimens."
The swift entry to her mind was desirable to convince the Dark Lord that the girl had no aptitude in the arts of the mind. He waited without choosing any memory.
It was another way to test Granger. He knew she had her guards up, but the Dark Lord would not be so forthcoming with his wish to peek a look in her mind. The girl needed to be attentive the entire time.
He waited long enough to sense Granger's confusion, followed by her mild frustration. When he was sure that the girl was distracted enough, he struck.
Severus chose a random memory and entered easily. The scene and her emotions were laid before him unhindered, just as he had expected. He inwardly smirked. But the smirk quickly changed into a grimace as his eyes fell upon Mr. Granger.
Another anecdote of her home life, Severus cursed.
The girl did not look older than Six at best. He observed how drastically the older Granger had transformed from her younger self. It was hard to believe that they were the same person, and not only because of the physical discrepancy, but the shriller voice and childish ways that the older girl did not possess anymore. Not to mention the whining and crying that the child before him was currently involved in.
Mr. Granger was trying to calm his daughter, rubbing her back while the girl was weeping in her hand—that was still the same, though, he vaguely thought.
'Jessica was laughing...again...at me...' The words were interrupted by sobs, hysterical sobs. 'He was...he called me weird...'
The intense sadness and fear of being ostracised stood clear in the child. Severus recognised those emotions too well.
'Hermione, look at me,' Mr. Granger said in a soft and, what can be called as a, soothing voice.
The girl looked up, her eyes tear filled and so utterly distraught. Severus found himself wondering what could have had Granger picked up at. Perhaps, her magic. That was a common issue with the Muggle-borns.
'You are not weird,' Mr. Granger said with firmness that he usually did not show in his otherwise blithe personality—yes, that was how deeply Severus had become familiar to Granger's parents through her memories. 'You are special, Love.'
'But then...why do they laugh at me, Daddy?'
'When some people fear someone who is better than them, they tend to bring that person down,' Granger's father explained. That was wise, Severus reflected. 'Think of it like a defence mechanism.'
As if a Six-year-old would know what 'defence mechanisms' are, Severus snorted.
'Like denial and displacement?' Granger asked.
Of course, trust Granger to have devoured the Encyclopaedia at Six.
'Yes, my little genius,' her father chuckled.
Granger wiped her eyes of tears, then looked up. Severus noted the sadness giving way to anger. 'Jessica got a C in Math, I'll get back to her tomorrow!'
Certainly, an entirely different personality now.
'No, child,' Mr. Granger covered his daughter's hand with that of his. 'We don't become like people whom we don't approve of, remember? That difference makes us who we are.'
Realisation dawned on Granger's young face. She nodded, and Severus noted her embarrassment.
Mr. Granger slipped a finger under the girl's chin and pushed her face up to meet her eyes. 'An eye for an eye-'
'-Makes the whole world blind,' the young girl finished with earnestness in her words.
'See, you know better,' Mr. Granger said with a grin.
Granger girl's pride at being praised and the elimination of embarrassment were the last of what Severus could catch, as Granger's Shields smoothly concealed the memory and broke his touch with her emotions.
But before the girl even got a moment to prepare herself, Severus latched onto the very next memory that he caught.
And instantly regretted it.
He was back at the graveyard where he had taken the girl to see her parents' graves.
Fury was the strongest emotion that Severus encountered upon landing. Exasperation, frustration, guilt, suicidal tendencies and hopelessness followed close after.
He saw himself, being subjected to the girl's monologue, her tirade, while she stood protective of the two graves behind her, as if hiding them from his line of sight the two headstones.
'Only if I were even a part like you, I would have killed myself, taking you along. But it is too important to me to maintain that line that separates us, because that reminds me what I should never become, despite whatever you or your swine of a master throw at me! I did not believe myself capable of such hatred, but now I think, I have found new limits to my reserve of loathe for you, you despicable man.'
Severus could see the impression of the last memory he had witnessed—with Mr. Granger—playing at the back of her thoughts.
'We don't become like people whom we don't approve of, remember?'
'That difference makes us who we are.'
But that was all he could catch as the brief memory was expertly concealed by Granger's Shields, and he was grateful for that.
Severus withdrew from her mind, feeling almost giddy, and that gave rise to another headache. He looked at the girl. Granger didn't fall to her knees after Occluding, anymore. But she was still panting, whether out of efforts to Occlude or revisiting such raw emotions, he knew not.
Severus realised that he had never stumbled upon any memories of the bonding ceremony night in her lessons. Maybe because she never kept them on the forefront of her mind, or because she simply deposited them to the Pensieve. But the memory with her father might have triggered the one from the graveyard.
"I believe we should call it a day," he said dismissively, and turned away. He was half expecting the girl to fly into another tirade about him ignoring the truth. But he was taken by surprise when Granger mumbled in agreement.
"My memories..." She mumbled. Severus restored the shining threads from the Pensieve into her mind. When he observed the girl, she seemed pensive, as if stuck in a dilemma.
Her eyes were fixed on the Pensieve. She vaguely ran a hand around the side of the basin. Then looked up at him. "If you don't mind, Sir, can I borrow your Pensieve for the night?"
Severus frowned in puzzlement. "What could you possibly do with a Pensieve, without using your wand?"
She seemed hesitant, something that she seldom was. She bit her lower lip, glancing at the basin again. "I cannot tell you that, Sir. It's just something...I need to do."
An experiment, perhaps? Was the girl reading about Pensieves and magical artefacts? That seemed to be the only plausible explanation. What else could she establish with a Pensieve, anyway?
"I am assuming you will not put it to objectionable use," he raised a brow.
"That...is a matter of opinion, Sir," she chose her words with some contemplation.
"Miss Granger, I am hardly in the mood for solving riddles," he said coldly. "Either you tell me why you need my Pensieve or leave without it."
"I..." She bit her lip again and Severus barely refrained himself from rolling his eyes. "I cannot tell you that, Sir. But it's alright. I should go."
This girl has the gall to directly refuse to tell me why she wants to borrow one of my artefacts!
Severus watched her go. He was almost certain she would ask again for the basin, relenting into telling him of her use of it. Or at least assure him that it was for some unobjectionable purpose.
But when she twisted the door knob, he knew that was not coming back. And just like that, the girl left his Lab.
Severus massaged his temples lightly. Initially when the girl had flung into various temper tantrums, he thought that they were because she was furious with him for killing her parents and rightfully so. But as time had passed, and Granger had somewhat refrained herself from berating him on a daily basis, mostly she kept from conversing at all, though, still the girl had the audacity to be forthcoming enough to express her displeasure or disapproval at something he had done.
After the Occlumency lesson the other day, she had been so straightforward with her opinion of a teacher making personal remarks on students. She had told him without a hint of hesitation that his behaviour was undesirable —his behaviour!
She should be afraid of him—at least on a professional level. She was at the liberty to berate him for that night, but otherwise... She was one person, other than the Headmaster and the Dark Lord whom he could not intimidate!
Bossy, little, chit of a witch!
UUUUUU
That night, Hermione laid in bed recalling the events of the day. Mrs. Frost had been in tears when Hermione had left the bakery after her shift. The kind lady had gifted her a basket of handmade muffins and scones and all sorts of cakes that she sold. She had hugged Hermione affectionately, and Hermione had sincerely wished the lady well for her grandson's impending surgery.
Mr. Mallard had patted her shoulder in a fatherly fashion when she had gone to meet him like she did each day—but for the last time until unforeseeable future. He had gently stroked her head and while his hand lingered a little too long, his eyes had become moist, too. There was little Hermione could do to control her own floodgates.
Hermione had never imagined herself to feel sad when leaving Spinner's End. What an ironic situation it was. But then again, those kind people had unknowingly helped her get over her sorrow to some extent.
She wondered how she would have been, had she chosen not to step out of the confining walls of the house. Not sane, of course.
God helps those who help themselves—the familiar saying came to her, bringing a small smile on her face. There would be setbacks, she was aware. More crying fits, more grief when she would suddenly have another nightmare of their death, that had plagued the first two weeks of her stay. But she had at least tried. She had kept the suicidal thoughts at bay—and she was proud of herself for that.
During Occlumency, watching herself blaming Snape, she had felt strongly to watch the memories Professor McGonagall had given her. She wanted to know how correct she was in her assessment of the man's crimes. But Snape did not give her the Pensieve without her telling him the reason to borrow it. Hermione did not want to lie, she refrained from lying if she could help it, because she could never do it with much conviction.
In truth, Hermione did not wish to watch that horrendous scene to unfold before her eyes again. But then again, the thought that she might actually discover something important kept nudging her mind. Maybe, her Head of House could provide her with a Pensieve later.
She turned to her side and saw her trunk on the floor, almost packed for school. Her other belongings were still kept in boxes as she never felt like unpacking and personalising the room. She would have to leave the boxes in the house. She had packed her albums and her parents' photographs among other items in her luggage, though.
That reminded her—where was Crookshanks? She hadn't seen him since returning to the house. She got up and peeked below the bed, but her familiar was not there.
She flung her night robe and went down the stairs. The living room was still lit and Snape was sitting there, focused on a chessboard. She was suddenly glad for bothering to wear her night robe over her flimsy, white nightgown.
Her familiar was peacefully sleeping on what she had come to know as Snape's armchair, but which Crookshanks mostly preferred.
Snape looked at her questioningly. Hermione glanced at the chessboard, a Muggle board where the pieces did not harbour opinions. She knew little of chess, but from her years of watching Ron defeating their various Housemates, she had come to understand that the game Snape was playing against himself was growing intense. Somehow, she was not surprised that he played chess. After all, if anything, Hermione had always admired him for his intelligence.
"Fancy a go, Miss Granger," he said in a casual voice, one that she did not often hear from him, if ever.
"I can hardly make a sound move," she admitted, though a little self-conscious.
He raised an elegant eyebrow. "A single move."
She inwardly shrugged, perhaps she could apply herself in just one move. Standing before the coffee table, she studied the board, before finally moving the bishop of the white.
A faint smirk tugged on Snape's lips as he easily overruled her, sending one of the white pieces to stand along with its other companions. "At least it clarifies one mystery," he looked up, though his face remained impassive, his voice hinted at amusement, "Why Ravenclaw did not suit you more."
Not completely understanding if that was a taunt or a casual comment or even a compliment for he did consider her to have been a Ravenclaw, Hermione decided not to respond.
"I just came to take him along," she said instead, gesturing at Crookshanks, and walked to the armchair. "C'mon, Love," she stroked his coat gently.
"I doubt that wicked cat would respond to such kindness," Snape snorted in mild derision, still having his eyes fixed on his board.
"He is quite obedient, in fact," Hermione found herself saying defensively. She shifted her attention back to her sleeping familiar and tried to wake him up.
"And what reason do I have of not believing that," Snape said smoothly and leaned back in his chair, now paying attention to Crookshanks and her.
You only disapprove of him because he stole your armchair, Hermione thought and could barely hold a chuckle back. Snape rivalling Crooks.
"I fail to see how you find any humour in the situation, Miss Granger," Snape had his eyebrow raised again.
"Animals respond well to their given name, Sir," she said, recalling how she had once heard Snape calling Crooks 'Cat'.
"Names as fatuous as 'Crookshanks'?" He had said that with derision, but it instantly woke her familiar up. Crookshanks looked at Snape with his still-drowsy eyes.
Hermione could not help but laugh at the situation. "Thus, my point, Sir." Snape had pursed his lips in annoyance, caught at a loss, looking all the more sulky. Hermione turned back to Crooks, "Come, Love."
He gave one more look to Snape before leaping down near Hermione's feet. She heard Snape mutter something akin to 'Infernal feline' in defeat.
She bent down and picked her sleepy familiar in her arms and went back to the room, still smirking.
UUUUUU
Hermione had woken up earlier than usual, like she always did on the First of September, every year. After a shower, she had favoured Muggle clothes to reach the King's Cross for obvious reasons. She packed her uniform on the top in her trunk so it would be easier to get changed in the train.
After breakfast, she took a look around the room to check if she had everything packed, either in her trunk or in one of the boxes.
Books? Check.
Quills and parchments? Check.
Clothes? Check.
Crookshanks' food and bowl? Check.
Although she had not made use of any drawers except the one in the bedside cabinet, Hermione still opened each just to be extra sure.
After a moment of consideration, she decided to quickly rummage through the cartons and boxes, too, in case she later realised that she was missing something. Professor McGonagall would arrive in approximately fifteen minutes, she still had some time if she was quick.
There were mostly books from her room, photographs from her living room back home, old albums that she was not taking along, Muggle clothes that she did not need in the Wizarding World, nothing that was to be taken to Hogwarts. That was also a screaming reminder that Hermione still had to sort her parents' property, clinic and bank accounts at some point. Perhaps, she'd do it in the Christmas holidays. She would be more prepared to deal with the reality, or so she was hoping.
She found a bundle of letters stacked at the bottom of a box. She took the bunch out. They were old, mostly from Ron and Harry. A few were from Viktor, too. One of the envelope was still sealed.
Hermione opened the envelope and slipped the parchment out.
Miss Granger,
I hope this letter finds you in good health, and that you are enjoying your vacation, especially after the disturbance in the Ministry.
There is no reason to be alarmed, but the Order has received some intel that those who had gone to the Ministry and their families might be targeted by the Death Eaters. But it is not a confirmed news. I am, however, sending a Portkey along, just in case. The activation word is 'SAFE HAVEN'. As it was only prudent to apprise you of the situation, I am letting you know. Perhaps keeping your wand with you at all time when you go out and keeping a vigilant eye would be advisable.
Again, enjoy your holidays and stay safe.
-A. Dumbledore,
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Hermione read the letter once. Twice. Thrice. Reaching inside the envelope, she also found a small, red paperclip with a chit of parchment attached to it. 'SAFE HAVEN' was scribbled on it. The Portkey.
"They...knew?" She mumbled. Her legs gave away and she plopped down on the bed heavily.
UUUUUU
The First of September was an especially gloomy day in Severus' calendar. After spending a few, relatively quiet months in his house, going back to the inane chatter of the clamouring school never felt particularly appealing to him.
He had his potions and ingredients to pack for his private brewing, which he did not trust to use magic for. So it was packing by hand. Even the books in his living room were neatly stacked by hand. Clothes and other essentials could be easily done by a wave of his wand, but the delicate cauldrons and vials needed special attention.
That was what he was doing, packing his books from the shelves in the living room when Minerva Apparated in his kitchen, unannounced.
"And one would think that privacy is meant to be respected," he said silkily, without pausing his work.
"A very Good Morning to you, too, Severus," she said too cheerily for his liking.
Severus did not pay much attention to her. He carefully packed all the importance books he would need, sometimes smoothening a couple of dog-ears with a frown. Some of the bindings were loosening on his books which truly peeved him. A few Potion-Journals were so old that the pages had gained a yellowish hue, but he was fond of the smell of those old pages.
He had ordered a few books on potions to heal old curse effects, too, that could aid Albus. Although he seriously doubted that. Albus' curse had any cure, that was how dark and fatal it was.
"Is Miss Granger ready?"
She asked, coming to stand by his side.
"A suggestion, Minerva," he did nothing to hide the annoyance in his tone, "Why don't you find that out for yourself, rather than standing here and pestering me?"
"You will never change, Severus," the witch chuckled. "Always the same, old, grumpy self on the first day. You were the same even as a student."
"How very observant," he said tersely.
He heard Granger coming down the steps, dragging her trunk behind.
"Name the devil," he muttered.
"Miss Granger," Minerva said in greeting, but the girl did not vocally respond. "What in Merlin's name is wrong? You look paler than a ghost!"
What? She had just had her breakfast in front of him. Even Potter needed longer time than that to land in trouble. He finally turned to see the girl. Her face was closed of any expression, perhaps Occlumency was at work. She was deliberately concealing her emotions. But why?
He raised an eyebrow in question as she looked from him to Minerva. The parchment she held tight in her hand was crumpled, she held it out to them. Minerva took it to read.
He noted how very still the girl stood, white and cold. She was not biting her lip, a usual habit when dealing with nerves. Her magic was also not cracking around her, so she was not angry. She had an air of...resignation?
"Yes," Minerva looked up from the letter. "He told me about sending it."
Severus took the parchment from his colleague's hand. It was a letter. From Albus. He read it quickly.
No need to be alarmed?
Severus had clearly stated to him that the students who were involved in the Ministry battle were targets. When did he ever give the impression that it was not of immediate importance!
"But why are you showing it to us?" Minerva asked.
"Sir, did you...?" She whispered. "The...intel..."
Severus kept his eyes trained on the lousy words. "Yes," he hissed slowly.
"When?" She asked in a steely voice.
He looked up to find her face just as steely. "The Dark Lord had announced his targets right after the debacle at the Ministry."
"So, everyone knew?" She asked, her gaze trained at Minerva. "Everyone knew? From the start?"
"What is your point, Miss Granger?" He frowned.
"This letter that contained such imperative information for me but I never got a chance to read it—until this morning." her voice was so cold and deep that she seemed to be a decade older in that moment.
Severus had practically waved his wand over different cupboards, drawers and shelves around the Granger House to hastily pack the items he assumed to be of value. He had not paid much attention to each item separately.
"So my point is," she continued, taking the letter from his hand, "That despite being aware of the danger weeks in advance, I was sent a normal letter—not inside a red envelope, no emergency letter, no Patronus, no Order member coming to me—but a normal letter, in a plain envelope, telling me that my family is a potential target." Her voice was evened, feigning a calmness. "And that, too, weeks after getting the intel."
She looked at Minerva with questioning eyes.
Beside him, she fidgeted under the girl's gaze. "Miss Granger, nobody had thought that you could really be attacked, back then. Albus did inform you as a safety measure-"
"Nobody thought?" She asked, her voice gaining heat. "Nobody thought that that Muggle-loathing dark wizard might come after Harry Potter's only Muggle-born friend, after she had played an active role in foiling his plan of getting his hands on the Prophecy?
"And that, too, after getting the intel?" She added furiously.
"We never...interpreted it that way, Miss Granger," Minerva herself sounded hardly convinced.
"And nobody informed me about being a target earlier because?" Her voice was trembling in what Severus had come to understand as her rising furor, that would surely be followed by her exploding magic.
Minerva took a step towards the girl but Granger stepped back, freezing Minerva in her tracks. "Miss Granger- Hermione," she sighed, "Between all the business of the Order and the Ministry-"
"-You forgot that somebody's life was at stake?" Granger said in a fierce whisper.
"Hermione," Minerva said slowly, "I know, we have failed you. Terribly so."
"No, actually," Granger glanced at the letter, "You all have just broke my bubble. I know that we are just pawns in the game. So what if a few pawns are sacrificed to protect the queen?"
"That is not true," Minerva said almost frantically. "You all are soldiers! And yes, soldiers have to sacrifice many a things in a war, but that's because it's their choice to fight in the battle."
Granger gave a rueful smile. "Yes, it is my choice," she averted her gaze down before looking up again. "My choice. Not my parents'."
Minerva sighed heavily, "Hermione, a war demands blood, and that is the bitter truth. But it repays. Victory repays."
"Repays?" She whispered. "Will the victory give me my freedom back?"
Severus stiffened. To that, neither Minerva had an answer nor he.
"Just because of Professor Dumbledore's lapse in judgement, I am stuck in this bond—forever!" She finally let her magic rise with her volume. A few books from the shelves tumbled down as the furniture began trembling in the power the girl was radiating. "Even when our side has won, I will have to...spend my entire life...being a slave!"
Severus suppressed a flinch at Granger's words. "Miss Granger, you're not a slave!"
"Miss Granger, compose yourself!" Minerva ordered. "You must understand that the turn of events was not expected. In the midst of the war, the Head of the Order is stuck in a chaos of demanding nature, that forbids him from considering every possibility to individuals."
"Was it not the Head of the Order's responsibility to protect his people in this war!" Granger shrieked, sending new life to her magic.
Minerva, in her frantic attempt to restraint the girl, looked at him. But Severus, for once, found himself at an utter loss. He couldn't bring himself to defend Albus—he himself had accused his employer of being lax in warning the Grangers beforehand.
Minerva looked at the letter again before regarding Granger. "Miss Granger, look here," she was pointing somewhere on the parchment. "This letter was sent to you in the morning of the 19th of June—hours before the attack took place, at night on that day . The Headmaster had informed you in time, child."
As Granger's eyes landed upon the spot Minerva was pointing at, the blazing in her eyes froze. Her magic suddenly subsided, the destruction and trembling ceased. And as Severus watched, Granger's eyes took upon an emptiness, her otherwise expressive eyes exuded nothing.
She took the letter from Minerva, but her eyes never left the spot. "19th..."
The girl momentarily seemed to be on the verge of collapsing to her knees. Reflexively, Severus found himself reaching out to the girl. But before he could steady her, she spoke in a voice thick with something unusually gloomy. "I didn't read it."
Neither could Minerva say anything to that nor did Granger seem to be expecting a response. Severus watched her simply fold the letter and put it in her pocket. She picked her cat up and held onto the handle of her trunk.
"I am ready, Professor." She announced, her voice even again, as if nothing at all had transpired in the last few minutes.
Minerva's eyes stayed on her for a long moment. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it in a thin line again. "Alright," she held her arm out to Granger, who took it without hesitation.
And just like that, the two witches Apparated away, one looking shocked and the other cold and detached.
A/N: A sad chapter after some relatively happy ones. I told you, this story will be dark, but the value of light comes with the lack of it.
Next chapter will give a glimpse of Hermione's state of mind. And more.
Please tell me how you find it!