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"So you're saying Draco recognized your patient?" Severus asked, his tone one of deep skepticism.
Andromeda and Snape sat across from one another in the dim greenish light of his office. Andromeda's fingers were entwined like gnarled vines in her lap, while Snape's were tented, his elbows perched atop his desk.
"No, not my patient. A picture of a baby inside my patient's locket."
"And who does Draco believe this— baby— to be?"
"Theodore Nott. Draco claims he's seen a larger version of the same portrait in Mister Nott's home."
"Curious," Severus replied as he leaned back in his seat. "What do you plan to do?"
"I attempted to obtain clearance to bring Theodore to St. Mungo's, to see if perhaps he recognizes my patient… or at the very least to confirm if the portrait in the locket is in fact him. But the board is overly cautious, especially during these— trying— times. I even failed to get clearance to bring the locket here," Andromeda blew a loose tendril of hair out of her eyes in frustration.
She was at her wit's end with the board's bureaucratic nonsense and hesitancy; in all her years at St. Mungo's she'd certainly butted heads with them on more than one occasion— it had never been unusual for them to place their reputation and concern for liability before the well-being of their patients— but the war was putting everyone on edge. It didn't help that three long-standing board members had recently— and rather unexpectedly— resigned, and medical supplies seemed to be disappearing left and right.
Despite these challenges, Andromeda was determined to find a way for Theo to lay eyes on her patient and the locket, even if she had to resort to more unconventional means.
Snape's dark eyes were upon her, but Andromeda could tell his attention was elsewhere.
"Poppy mentioned she's releasing Draco today," she stated plainly.
Snape nodded. "Most unfortunately. She refused my protestations to keep him longer."
"No reason to keep him, he's healed," she replied, as if she were discharging one of her own patients. "The only sign of injury is that scar across his chest… he really was very lucky."
Andromeda's eyebrows furrowed. Even though she'd witnessed much more sever injuries during her time as a Healer, it pained her to recount the image of her nephew, however previously estranged, laid up in a hospital bed, his clothes dyed red with his own blood.
"His luck is about to run out. Draco continues to refuse my attempts to assist him, and his time is truly coming to an end. I worry he will decide to do something… rash."
"Even more rash than what I suspect he has already done? The Weasley boy's poisoning and Miss Bell— poor girl, she's only recently regained consciousness— the similarities between these events were not lost on me, Severus," Andromeda explained, thinking Snape would give her some sign of acknowledgement that she was correct in her assumption, but the sallow-skinned professor's expression did not change.
Andromeda sighed.
"He hasn't let on what he might be planning?"
Snape shook his head. "I hate to admit I'd rather counted on your insight into his mind. You still have not caught a glimpse of anything of potential significance over the course of your lessons?"
"No," Andromeda answered, perhaps a bit too quickly, she realized as Snape's scrutiny deepened. "I thought the goal was trust, not intel? And it would be an exhaustive process to try to discover hidden information now, even with his distractions. Draco is far too advanced in his training."
Andromeda recalled Draco's memory of a strange cabinet, but she was not about to risk the trust she had worked so diligently to build. Plus, a cabinet etched with a few runes hardly seemed to be a detail worth mentioning.
"I have not seen anything more unexpected than his involvement with Miss Granger," she said.
Andromeda could tell her nephew's feelings for the girl were complex, and exceedingly difficult for him to suppress, but she still found their association with one another most unusual of all. In truth, she allowed herself a bit of hope, thinking Draco was perhaps following in her footsteps, overcoming learned prejudices.
Snape's eyebrow raised a fraction higher in surprise. "Curious… perhaps there is more to their fraternization than I realized."
Andromeda gave Snape a questioning look.
"I believe she and Mister Nott have been helping Draco," Snape explained.
In a rare display of emotion, Andromeda brought her hands to her lips in shock. "Severus… they are putting themselves in grave danger. Mister Nott may chance some safety if things go even more awry, but Miss Granger… she's—"
"Muggle-born, yes," said Snape wearily, and the shadows under his eyes seemed to deepen.
"And Potter's friend— she must not understand the level of risk—"
"There we disagree," Snape interrupted. "I believe Miss Granger to understand the risk, and the implicit danger, better than most."
"Even so, we must do something, Severus," Andromeda pleaded, meeting Snape's dark gaze. "We have to intervene before it's too late."
"If only you had gleaned something useful from Draco's thoughts…"
Andromeda's eyes narrowed.
"If only you would tell me the task Voldemort has given him, perhaps more would become clear to me."
They glared at one another, neither one willing to budge.
"I refuse to heighten the danger of your position," answered Snape.
Andromeda sighed, her expression softening at Snape's rare display of thoughtfulness. She relented.
"I believe Draco has some interest in a large cabinet. Its door is etched with runes." She explained, waving her hand nonchalantly. "It hardly seemed worth mentioning."
Snape leaned forward in his chair. "A cabinet? Where?"
"I'm not sure, I've only caught glimpses of it. I assume somewhere in the castle."
"Do you recall the runes?" asked Snape, his tone urgent.
"No."
Andromeda frowned. She did not like to admit there were gaps in her academic training, even subject areas no one could rightfully expect her, as a healer, to have extensive knowledge of. "I never put much stock in Ancient Runes."
"I can not argue with that," Snape admitted in a uncharacteristic unity. "I too devoted my studies to more practical arts."
"So you see, I wasn't lying when I said I had no useful information."
"That may not be true. I believe I may know of this cabinet, despite your vague description. What you saw in Draco's mind may be a Vanishing Cabinet. They were used for discreet transportation during the last war, popularized in Grindelwald's time."
"But weren't those all but destroyed after the last war? Along with seeing stones?"
Snape nodded. "One working vanishing cabinet, never mind a pair, which is what one would need for any actual benefit, would be exceedingly rare."
"Where could it possibly be? Certainly someone would have noticed an object so large in the castle. And what use could Draco possibly have with them?"
"Assuming there is a set, I see only one possible use," replied Snape as he leaned back in his chair.
Andromeda's brow furrowed in impatience as she waited for Snape's reply.
"The Dark Lord's infiltration of Hogwarts."
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Harry and Hermione's first detention with Snape the day following Harry and Draco's duel had been as dismal as they'd suspected; they'd been tasked with the daunting effort of sorting the records of the wrongdoings and punishments of past Hogwarts's students, many of which belonged to none other than Sirius Black and James Potter. Snape had made it abundantly clear that he'd chosen these specific records quite purposefully, intent on increasing Harry's suffering.
"It must be such a comforting thing that, though they are gone, a record of their great achievements remains…" Snape had drawled as Harry seethed with contempt and Hermione had looked on in horror and helplessness.
But Hermione admitted, not out loud of course, that her detention had not been altogether fruitless. She actually found herself appreciating the mindless work, if only to keep her thoughts away from a familiar set of light gray eyes and the memory of the feel of their owner's lips pressed against her own.
Among the records of student wrongdoings, she'd also found a distraction in the form of Hogwart's student Eileen Prince, who, in 1947, was given detention for missing a Transfiguration class. The name had sparked a fire in Hermione's mind, wondering if perhaps she had stumbled upon the true Half-Blood Prince, and— when she wasn't annoyed with herself for missing Draco or worrying about when he would decide to act on the information she'd given him— she'd spent the week holed up in the library, as much to try to discover the truth about the Half-Blood Prince as to avoid Theo's scrutinizing stares, Ron and Harry's looks of concern, Ginny's curious, yet kind, questions, and, most of all, any and all thoughts of Draco.
A week had passed, and it was again Saturday; the day of the Quidditch House Championship, Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. The Great Hall buzzed with excitement, although a much more reserved sort of feeling lingered all around the Gryffindor table.
"I still can't believe you're missing the match, mate," Ron groaned before glancing at Hermione, who was idly pushing eggs around on her plate, doing her utmost not to think about what Theo and Draco might be up to; she'd heard that Draco was to be released from the hospital wing today.
"No chance for a bit of Polyjuice, eh, Hermione? Someone else to take Harry's place inn detention?" Ron asked in an attempt to cheer her.
"I volunteer as tribute," Neville chimed from his seat next to Ginny, smiling. "Anything to make sure Ravenclaw gets destroyed today."
Harry and Ron chuckled, Luna's lion hat roared beside Ron in affirmation of Neville's sentiment, but Hermione did not look up from her plate.
Ginny beamed, "Now those are the words of a true Gryffindor."
Neville blushed.
"Gryffindor can win without Harry," announced Luna, who was doing a miraculous job of ignoring the angry stares from her house's table and the whispers of "traitor" as her fellow Ravenclaws walked by.
Ron coughed on a laugh and Harry frowned.
"Oh— sorry Harry. I only meant that Ginny is going to be an excellent Seeker."
"Thanks Luna," Ginny replied, smiling.
"Luna's right. You've been sleeping with a snitch under your pillow all week, right Gin? Ever since we found out Harry couldn't play."
It was Ginny's turn to blush.
"Snitch-under-the-pillow trick? I guess I'll have to remember to try that next time," replied Harry with a wry smile before he directed another worried glance in Hermione's direction.
"Sounds like something Oliver Wood would've demanded as captain. Fred and George said he used to make them bury their bats the day before the match and dig them up the next morning— something about acclimating the wood temperature to the match's conditions—" Ron explained through a mouthful of toast. "And— wait a second, Neville— how do you know what she's been keeping under her pillow?" Ron's eyes narrowed in Neville's direction and he turned an even deeper shade of red.
"Because I told him, you prat— not that it's really any of your business," Ginny retorted sharply, scooting closer to Neville in defiance. Neville looked as though he'd just seen a boggart.
"I keep a Wrackspurt trap under my pillow," Luna interjected thoughtfully. "You know, for clearer dreams. What do you keep under yours, Ronald?" She asked candidly, turning to face him.
Ron sputtered as Ginny and Neville gave Luna grateful looks.
"I—"
"At the Burrow he keeps his favorite Chocolate Frog cards under his pillow," Hermione said quietly, a small smile at last creeping onto her face. Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice.
"Mostly just empty wrappers under his pillow here," Harry added, and Ginny and Neville burst into laughter. Even Hermione managed a smile. "Pretty sure there's an almost-empty four-month old box of Bertie's."
Ron scowled, but shortly joined in with their laughter.
"That's good news," Luna said dreamily. "I was worried you might keep your wand under your pillow. I sleepwalk you see, and I need to make sure my wand is secure before bed. One night last summer I transfigured my pet goldfish into a rooster— nearly gave Dad a heart attack that morning at sunrise. There was a Ministry inquisition and everything— you know, for underage magic," Luna said nonchalantly, as if discussing her class schedule.
Everyone stared at Luna— even Hermione— with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
"Better take good notes, Ron," Harry said, breaking the silence with a smirk. "Wouldn't want to end up stuck as a rooster."
"Dunno, Harry. I think Ron's already a bit of a co—" Ginny started.
"Can I walk with you down to the pitch, Ginny?" Neville interjected hastily and Harry and Hermione nodded to him in gratitude for diverting the sibling argument they sensed coming.
"You may," Ginny replied cheerfully, smiling at Neville as she rose from her seat.
Luna turned to Ron. "Shouldn't we be going too, Ronald? I need to meet with McGonagall outside the pitch before the match… something about a list of commentary guidelines."
Ron snorted. "Promise me you'll ignore that list?"
"Good luck! Kill them for me!" Harry called as they left, his disappointment palpable.
"Good luck!" Hermione echoed, her small smile fading as she watched them go. Once their friends were out of sight, she turned to Harry.
"We should get going, I don't want to be late for Snape," she said.
Harry nodded grimly. "Should've thought of Polyjuice earlier— that actually might've worked."
Hermione simply sighed and led them toward the dungeons, again grateful for the opportunity of a distraction.
Snape was waiting for them outside his classroom door, his expression as cold as ever.
"It seems the trick to your timeliness, Potter, is to assign Miss Granger to all of your detentions. I will have to remember that for the future."
Hermione watched as Harry returned Snape's comment with a look of unbridled hatred. She refrained from rolling her eyes, but only barely.
"The files await," Snape said, gesturing for them to enter.
Harry stepped into the classroom, but Snape swung the door shut behind him before Hermione could follow, leaving her alone with the Professor in the otherwise dank and empty hallway. She heard the lock click.
"You do not have to share Potter's punishment, Miss Granger… if you share the information I know you're withholding."
She did not meet his gaze and remained silent, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed.
"Nothing to say? How unusual for you."
She shook her head.
"So be it," Snape replied, glowering down at her. "I know about the cabinet," he added, his voice low.
Hermione looked up, feeling the surprise written across her face.
Did Dumbledore finally tell him? She wondered. Or maybe Malfoy?
"What cabinet?"
"I'm not sure who is the most obstinate— you, Draco, Nott, or Potter. But you are certainly in the lead for the most foolish of the lot this term."
So not Malfoy.
"Didn't you get all the information you needed from Dumbledore?" She asked plainly. She didn't want to talk about Draco any longer— it was too painful.
"Dumbledore?" Snape replied immediately, the confusion clear in his voice.
"Yes, Dumbledore," she replied simply, noting Snape's confusion and realizing she may have said too much.
But if Dumbledore didn't tell him, then who did? She wondered. Or maybe he finally used Legilimency on Malfoy? Or Nott?
"You must tell me where it's located, Miss Granger."
Hermione detected the urgency in Snape's voice, and she was reminded of the Unbreakable Vow he'd made.
"Surely by now you understand the grave danger— for Draco… for the entire school."
Snape paused pointedly, and his insinuation was not lost on Hermione.
"I can't."
There was silence in the hall again, and Hermione got the odd impression Snape was in some sort of internal argument with himself.
"There was a time when I was certain I was doing the right thing for someone I—" Snape paused, as if to brace himself.
"—someone I cared for, when I was sure my intervention alone would protect—" he stopped abruptly, his features pained.
Hermione's brown eyes widened in shock at Snape's uncharacteristic display of vulnerability.
"I failed. I tell you this now because you have the rare opportunity to avoid this same failure. I am determined not to fail Draco, and I sense, for reasons beyond my comprehension, that you share in this determination as well."
"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione said sincerely, stifling every screaming urge to tell him the truth. "I know Dumbledore trusts you…" she continued quietly, purposefully looking away. "And I know about your vow. But Dra— Malfoy— he doesn't trust you, and I'm not sure I do either."
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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! A special thank you to those who have taken the time to share their thoughts about this fic.