Chapter 37

Why didn't he take an apprentice years ago? Albus wasn't happy that Severus didn't clear it with him before making the offer, but after nagging Severus for years to take an apprentice, the old man really couldn't complain. Even though he's teaching Defence rather than Potions, Severus still brews the potions Poppy needs for the hospital wing because Slughorn whinged so much that Albus lets him off. Now Levin is doing it, as well as doing the marking for the first and second year Defence essays. Even though it isn't Potions, giving feedback to students is a skill Levin will need next year when Severus goes back to teaching Potions—assuming the Dark Lord is dead, and Severus isn't.

Severus would never admit this to another person, but there are aspects of teaching Potions he actually likes, including the NEWT-level work with the occasional talented student who slips in amid the other dunderdeads—students like Levin, or Hermione, or a couple of the current seventh year Ravenclaws.

At present, his apprentice is proctoring an exam the third years are taking while Severus is at his desk reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He vaguely recalls some of the stories, as his mum read them to him when he was a child, but it's been years since he's thought about the book. He finishes the preposterous story about the troll—he recalls particularly liking that one as a boy but now can't for the life of him figure out why—and begins the next one, about the Peverell brothers and the Deathly Hallows.

He turns the page and looks at the illustration. There's something familiar about the drawing of the Resurrection Stone, but whatever it is floats just outside his consciousness, and he continues reading. Occasionally looking up at his apprentice and the students, he finishes the story and sits back, thinking.

When he saw the book in Albus's mind, the old man was thinking about his wand, which he pictured Severus taking from him after using the killing curse. Then Severus was dueling Potter. Was he using his own wand in that duel, or the late Headmaster's? Severus concentrates on the memory. He's almost sure it was Albus's wand in his hand, the one he took from Albus when he killed him. Is that important?

He goes back to the beginning of the story, and turns the pages slowly, looking at each illustration. The picture of the stone still niggles at him, but the drawing of the wand stops him cold. It's Albus's wand. Not similar, but identical. He's seen that wand so many times over the years, he'd know it anywhere. The wand Albus imagined Severus taking from him by killing him—taken by force, as the Elder Wand must be taken, according to the story, in order for a new owner to gain mastery of it.

This is just a story. The Deathly Hallows aren't real. Though that Invisibility Cloak of Potter's is real, and the only one in existence, as far as he knows. He looks at the drawing of the Resurrection Stone again, and then he knows. The ring, the one that contained the Horcrux and whose curse is slowly killing Albus. The stone in that ring is identical to the one in the illustration.

The Deathly Hallows are real, and the Elder Wand plays a part in Albus's complicated plotting to bring down the Dark Lord. Does he think the wand will allow Potter to destroy the Dark Lord even without destroying the Horcrux inside Potter first? And does he old fool really think that Potter could defeat Severus, to gain mastery of it, assuming that Severus became its master by killing Albus? It's preposterous. The boy could no more outduel Severus than could one of these second years.

There are so many moving parts to the Headmaster's plan. It's exactly as Hermione said: the old man is making things much more complicated than they have to be.

"You have got to be kidding me," Hermione says.

Severus sighs. "If only I were."

"He's mad. You know that, right? Absolutely barking." She stands and begins to pace. "You're supposed to kill him and gain mastery of the wand—except, in the first place, he told you to do it, so it doesn't really count as defeating him, does it, so would the wand actually recognize you? And in the second place, even if it did, why would you take it? You've already got a wand. Or would you? I don't know. I suppose it's not a bad idea to have a spare on hand. But even if you did, you wouldn't start using it instead of yours, so even if Harry were fool enough to duel you—which he isn't, despite what you think, and stop smirking—and did manage to disarm you—stop laughing, Severus—you'd be using your own wand, not the one you took from Albus." She stops for a breath. "As I said. Barking."

"Mm."

She leaves off pacing and puts her hands on her hips. "Is that all you have to say? 'Mm'?"

"You're saying enough for both of us and then some, I'd say." He can't resist winding her up a bit when she gets like this.

She looks at her familiar. "He thinks he's so funny, but he isn't, is he, Crooks?"

The beast walks over to Severus, butts its face against his leg, then leaps up into his lap and starts purring.

She laughs. "I hate you both."

"No, you—" Severus stops short, then finishes, "You're very fond of this hideous animal, though I cannot begin to understand why." He almost said, No, you love us, until, thank Merlin, his brain caught up with his mouth. She most certainly does not love him, any more than he loves her. The very idea.

Hermione sits down on the sofa next to Severus. "I'm somewhat fond of you as well, when you're not acting like an ass."

He scratches the Kneazle behind the ears. "You hear that, mate? Conditional affection. She's a cold one, your mistress."

Hermione pets Crookshanks, her fingers brushing Severus's skin as well as the animal's fur. "What are we going to do about the Headmaster's clusterfuck of a plan?"

"Such a dirty mouth." His fingers tease hers in the ginger fur.

"You like it." She shoos the cat off his lap and takes its place.

"I do." He trails open-mouth kisses down her neck, murmuring, "Are you going to talk dirty to me now, Miss Granger?" He freezes for a moment, wishing he hadn't called her that, but she appears not to have noticed, or if she did, not to have associated it with the way he used to address her when she was his student. Is he ever going to get over his skittishness about that?

He is denied the pleasure of hearing whatever her wicked grin suggests she is about to say when the Floo flares green. He pushes her off his lap, eliciting an affronted, "Hey!" before she follows his gaze to the hearth, where Minerva's face appears.

"Severus, come at once to the hospital wing. Draco Malfoy's badly injured."