Chapter 42

Severus is halfway through breakfast when Hemione emerges from her bedroom, hair in a tight plait, and sits down across from him. She pours tea and takes a sip.

"The Lestranges are dead," he says. "Lucius just Flooed."

She nods.

"I thought you could send Potter a Patronus to meet us here after we finish breakfast."

She picks up her wand. "Expecto Patronum." As he has seen happen before, she fails to conjure her otter on the first try. He has always had to concentrate more to cast this spell than any other, but it surprised him to learn that Hermione—Granger, he supposes he should get used to thinking of her as again—has difficulty with it as well. The second time she repeats the incantation, the silver otter appears. "Harry, there's something I need to speak with you about. Could you come to Professor Snape's quarters in about fifteen minutes, please?"

Not her quarters. Not theirs. His. And he's Professor Snape again.

She puts salt and pepper on her eggs. "Would you prefer that I speak with him alone first, or will you be there?"

"I would prefer to be present, but it would be best if you do most of the talking."

She nods, and sets about eating her breakfast. They exchange not a single word more as they both finish eating. The silence, broken only by the clink of cutlery on porcelain, is thicker than the marmalade he spreads on his toast. He takes one last bite and rises from the table, moving to the sofa where he stares unseeing at an issue of Potions Quarterly so he will not have to look at her across the table.

When Potter arrives, Severus allows her to answer the door. Potter's surprise is evident when he sees Severus sitting on the sofa.

"We both need to talk to you, Harry," Hermione says.

Potter looks back and forth between them. "About what?"

"Before I tell you, I'd like you to promise me that you'll listen to everything before getting upset and storming out or calling the Headmaster."

"Why would I call the Headmaster? Have you done something he should know about?"

Severus forces himself to remain silent.

"Harry, I'm asking you, as your friend, to promise. Please, will you do this one thing for me?"

Potter looks at Severus, then turns to Hermione and huffs, "Yes."

She takes a breath. "We know what all the Horcruxes are."

"You told him?" He glares at Severus. "He's a Death Eater, and you told him?"

"Harry, you promised you'd listen."

"But you—"

"Harry! Did you or did you not promise?"

Potter glares at her. "Fine."

"We've found and destroyed all but two of them. His familiar, the snake, is one, and we can't kill her until just before we kill him, since he always keeps her with him."

"A Horcrux can be something living?"

"It can."

"Doesn't seem to make sense, choosing something that could die rather than an indestructible object."

"I know."

"You said two more. What's the other one?"

"The other one is an accidental Horcrux, one he never intended to make, and in fact doesn't know exists." She bites her lip. "It's also something living."

Potter frowns. "I don't understand. How could he make a Horcrux without intending to?"

"A Horcrux is created by casting the killing curse with the intent of making one. When the Dark Lord was making one of his Horcruxes, something went wrong when he cast the killing curse. The person he was trying to kill didn't die. The spell rebounded and—"

"Hermione, are you talking about when he tried to kill me?"

She nods.

Severus watches Potter's face, which shows every emotion as he feels it—confusion, disbelief, horror, fear, and finally—predictably, given that it's Potter—anger.

"Are you saying that I'm a Horcrux? That I have to die for Voldemort to be killed?"

Severus suppresses his grimace as pain twists in his arm at the sound of the Dark Lord's name.

"Harry, would you not say the name, please?" Hermione asks.

"Because your goddamn Death Eater husband doesn't like it? Voldemort. There. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort."

Severus turns his back, unwilling to let Potter see the physical effect his words have.

"Silencio!" Hermione shouts.

When Severus has regained control of his features, he turns to see the silenced Potter red-faced, his lips moving with words no one can hear.

"I'll end the spell when you calm down," Hermione says. When Potter stops moving his mouth and slumps down onto the sofa, she asks, "Can I remove the spell?" He nods. "Finite," she says, but keeps her wand in her hand and her eyes on Potter.

"Is that why I can feel his thoughts sometimes?" Potter asks. "Why I can speak Parseltongue?"

"I'm almost certain that it is," Hermione replies.

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"Sev— Professor Snape can show you the memory."

"I don't want him in my head."

"You'll be in his head, Harry."

"That's even worse."

"Harry, either let him show you, or trust me."

Potter turns to Severus. "Fine. Show me."

"Cast when you are ready, Mr. Potter."

Potter picks up his wand. "Legilimens."

Severus pushes forward the memory of being in Albus's head, seeing the old man think about Potter being a Horcrux, but not the part where he learned that Potter only has to believe he is sacrificing himself.

"Dumbledore knows," Potter says, eyes glistening. "He knows, and he didn't tell me." He turns to Hermione. "I thought—" He falls silent, shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione says, tears in her eyes as well. Unlike Potter, who holds his back, she lets hers fall. "We've tried to find a way to get it out of you."

"We?" Potter scoffs, glaring at Severus. "He was probably overjoyed at the news."

"Overjoyed that I've spent six years protecting you only to learn this?" Severus asks.

"You only protected me because Dumbledore made you."

"I protected you because you're the son of the first friend I ever had."

"You hated my father."

"I did," Severus acknowledges. "I was referring to your mother." As both Potter and Hermione stare at him, he continues, "Lily Evans and I lived near each other when we were children. From the time I was nine years old until I was sixteen, I spent as much time at her house as I did my own."

"But I saw that memory," Potter says. "You called her a Mudblood."

Hermione turns to stare at Potter, and then at Severus, connecting the dots: that's why he hates that word.

"Because I had as little control over my stupid mouth at sixteen as you do, Potter. That was what ended our friendship. She never forgave me, and I never stopped regretting it."

"Did you ask her to?" Hermione asks.

"It's ancient history, and it doesn't matter." He turns to Potter. "What matters is destroying the Dark Lord. For what it's worth, Potter, I am sorry that you were made a Horcrux. You probably don't believe me, but as much as I dislike you, I don't want you to die."

Potter looks at him for a long time. "Will you show me some of the memories of you and my mother when you were children?"

"You think I made up the friendship to trick you?"

"No, I just want to see her. Please."

The last thing Severus wants to do is dredge up old memories of Lily Evans, but they need Potter to calm down and cooperate, so he nods. He prepares the memories and walks to the sofa. Hermione stands so he can sit beside Potter, who raises his wand. He shows the boy the memory of when he and Lily met at the park, then a few others during the next two years, then ends with Lily excited because she'd received her Hogwarts letter. He pushes Potter out of his mind then, firmly but not harshly.

"She was beautiful," Potter says.

"She was," Severus agrees.

"You hated me because I was my father's son," Potter says. "But I was her son, too."

"And had I behaved toward you with that in mind, the Dark Lord would have made different assumptions about where my loyalty lies than he has."

Hermione goes over the plan with Harry for the third time. Severus retreated to his bedroom after the first time, saying he had a headache. He was remarkably patient with Harry, all things considered.

"You're sure you've got it?" she asks.

"I may not be as smart as you and Snape, but I'm not stupid," Harry huffs.

"I know you're not. It's just that we've only got one chance to get this right." That's not true, of course, but they haven't told Harry about the do-over potion. Honestly, the idea of living through this day over again fills Hermione with despair. Between the drama with Harry, the stress of whether anything will go wrong tonight, and the terrible tension between her and Severus after their fight last night, it's all she can do to keep it together.

"And because the end is the same for me whether it works or doesn't, I don't exactly have the same incentive as the rest of you?"

"Harry." Her eyes fill with tears. How many times does this make in the last twelve hours? It's amazing there's any liquid left in there.

"I don't mean to wallow in self-pity."

"But how can you not, really? I mean, it's all so goddamn fucking unfair!"

Harry gives her a half smile. "You never used to swear this much, Mione."

She jerks her thumb at Severus's bedroom door. "Bad influence."

"Really?" He casts Muffliato. "I can't quite picture Snape swearing."

"Not only does he swear, but he swears like a Muggle from the dodgy neighborhood he grew up in."

"It really was dodgy." He glances at the closed bedroom door, but the spell is in place so he continues. "I knew my mum wasn't rich. Aunt Petunia was forever carrying on about how when she was a girl they didn't have this, that, and the other. But judging from the way Snape looked in those memories, I think his family was much worse off than Mum and Petunia's. I think he was really poor."

Hermione remembers how he described his father the one time they talked about his family. The lowest sort of Manc you can imagine, he said. The kind who neglected his son? Possibly worse? She closes her eyes. Poor Severus. Though he'd hate her thinking this way, hate being pitied.

"Hermione?"

She opens her eyes and looks at Harry.

"You like him, don't you?"

She nods, and feels the prick of tears again. What is wrong with her? "I know you'd rather I didn't."

Harry shrugs. "It's kind of hard to go on hating someone after you've seen him as an undernourished little kid dressed in hand-me-downs that don't fit. I mean, takes one to know one, you know?"

Hermione moves closer to Harry on the sofa and leans her head on his shoulder. He puts his arm around her. They're still sitting that way when Severus emerges from his bedroom. "As much as I hate to disrupt such a touching tableau, I'm afraid we have more preparation to do for this evening."

"Right." Harry stands and extends his hand to Severus. "Treat her right, sir. I'll come back as a ghost and haunt you if you don't."

"This law will not long outlive the Dark Lord. You'll have to ask Miss Granger which wizard to threaten before shuffling off this mortal coil."

Hermione glares at Severus. They both know Harry isn't really going to die, but Harry doesn't. She looks at Harry, who doesn't look angry, only puzzled. He looks from Severus to her. "I don't think he knows."

"What do I not know, Mr. Potter?"

"That's for your wife to tell you, not me. Bye, Hermione." He hugs her and leaves.

"What is for you to tell me?" Severus asks when he's gone.

Taking a page from the Slytherin doublespeak playbook, she says, "I really couldn't say."