Author's Note

A huge and heartfelt thank you to everyone who is reading, and especially to those who have liked and/or reviews. Reading your comments in reviews cheers me immensely. I was better about responding to them before this week, which has been kind of a rough one. Can I please have a potion that will let me go back and make Covid never fucking happen? Seriously. The fallout from this situation in all our lives has been pretty bad. A flare-up of some of that fallout was why I was so late posting on Tuesday. I think I'd rather face the Dark Lord than a repeat of the drama in my house the other day. Merlin's hairy ballsack! Anyway, just wanted to say thanks to you all, and apologies for my recent lack of replies.

Chapter 33

Their walk takes them up the charmed staircases to the Room of Requirement, which provides a cozy sitting room with a comfortable sofa. Ginny curls up at one end and unwraps her breakfast sandwich. "Okay, spill," she says, then takes a bite.

Hermione sits at the other end of the sofa. "What makes you think there's anything to spill?"

Ginny rolls her eyes and finishes chewing. She swallows, then says, "First, because you haven't paid the slightest attention to my brother in weeks, after spending the whole first part of the school year mooning over him."

"I was not mooning," Hermione protests, though in truth she supposes that perhaps she was. She isn't sure when her crush on Ron ended. The day they announced the marriage law—her wedding day—she was still jealous that he was with Lavender, and saddened at the knowledge that he didn't care enough about her to be the one to marry her. Before the law, she wasn't so in love with him that she knew she wanted to marry him, but she did want to be his girlfriend, and thought maybe someday they might marry.

"Well, whatever you want to call it," Ginny says, "you're not doing it anymore."

Hermione shrugs. "At some point, an intelligent witch has to bow to the inevitable."

"I'm an intelligent witch, and yet I'm still mooning over Harry."

"Then why are you with Dean? Ginny, if you still care about Harry—"

"Because he doesn't care about me. And it's just about killing me."

"He does care about you."

Ginny scoffs.

"He does. He thinks he's protecting you, that it would put you in danger to be with you, because of the Dark Lord."

"Merlin, Mione, since when do you call him that? You sound like a bloody Death Eater."

"There's a reason," Hermione says, "But we were talking about you. Are you only with Dean to make Harry jealous, then? That isn't exactly fair to Dean."

Ginny sighs. "I know. Honestly? I want to feel about Dean the way I do about Harry. I really do. Which is why I've kept trying. It's demoralizing to feel this way about Harry and have him keep rejecting me."

Hermione thinks about all the hours she spent trying not to look anywhere but at Ron and Lavender. "Tell me about it."

"So, how did you stop feeling that way about my brother?"

"I'm not sure, really. It just sort of happened. In first weeks after…after the marriage law, I pushed Ron out of my thoughts as much as possible using Occlumency techniques. At some point, though, I didn't have to try anymore. I just didn't think about him anymore, except the same way I think about Harry or you or any of my friends. I don't know when that happened, or why, but it did."

"Judging by the way you were looking at Snape this morning, I'd say the why has to do with him." Ginny keeps looking at Hermione, who doesn't answer, then asks, "Are the two of you doing more than just studying for your NEWTs? Or do you just want to?"

Hermione hesitates. "We are."

"I knew it! Is it good? It must be, or you wouldn't be turning as red as the rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass."

"It is."

"Well, fuck me," Ginny says. "Who knew old Snape would be good in bed? Though actually," she says, then falls silent, gets a calculating look on her face. "Okay, don't get me wrong. He's not my type or anything, but I can see how he might be…meticulous, if you know what I mean?"

Hermione gives Ginny a sidelong look. "So meticulous."

Ginny squeals.

"Look, Gin, you absolutely cannot gossip about this, all right? He's such a private person. He'd be horrified."

"No man minds having people know he's good in the sack," Ginny scoffs.

"I think Severus would mind having his students know."

"Severus," Ginny repeats, then pants and gasps in mock ecstasy, "Oh, Severus!"

"Oh, my God, Ginny, shut it!"

Ginny laughs in delight. "Can you please relax? Are you even capable of not being constantly uptight? Wait, never mind. Obviously, Severus must be able to get you to relax, or you wouldn't be enjoying things so much."

Hermione laughs. It feels so good to laugh, after the stress she's been under. "I think I needed this, Ginny."

"Of course you did. Witches need to confide in their girlfriends. We'd explode if we didn't. I suppose even that cow Umbridge must have a girlfriend she tells about her disgusting crush."

Hermione grimaces. "God. Umbridge having sex. I'd rather not think about that. Can we just assume she's asexual?"

"Unfortunately not. My dad saw her doodling some Death Eater's name surrounded by hearts and snakes—snakes!—during a meeting at the Ministry one day. He and Mum laughed themselves sick."

"Which Death Eater?"

"Why? And why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?"

"The same look I've been seeing on Fred and George's face all my life, and have learned to watch my back whenever I do."

"Probably best you don't know. Just tell me whose name dear Dolores was decorating with hearts and snakes."

"Could you get some of Yaxley's hair?"

Severus puts down his book. Hermione is practically vibrating with excitement, and the door to their quarters had barely closed behind her when that very unexpected question tumbled out of her mouth. "Why?" he asks.

"Answer me and I'll tell you."

Severus glowers at her, but it has no effect at all, which is vexing. "I can."

"Dolores Umbridge has a big fat crush on him."

Severus grimaces. The thought of Dolores Umbridge in any sort of sexual or romantic context is enough to turn his stomach. His next thought ramps up the nausea. "Surely you are not suggesting that I impersonate Yaxley and…and…" He cannot bring himself to give words to the thought, which is bad enough.

"You wouldn't have to do anything with her," Hermione says with a shudder. "God. I don't think I could ever let you touch me again if you did. You'd only have to get into her flat so you could take the locket."

Severus ponders this. He and Hermione and Lucius have discussed how to get to Umbridge, which has proved more challenging than anticipated. She Floos to and from the Ministry from her flat. She eats lunch in the Ministry canteen or at her desk, almost never goes out. She appears to have no social life whatsoever outside work.

"Well," he says, unwarding a cabinet and removing a vial containing several brown hairs. "No time like the present, I suppose."

Hermione gapes. "Is that…?"

"It is," he confirms a little smugly. In fact, he has hair from most of the other Death Eaters carefully stored away and labelled, along with some from an assortment of anonymous Muggles. "One never knows when such things may come in handy."