A/N: It doesn't feel like a Monday, does it? Anyway, there's a distinct possibility I'll post another chapter on Wednesday, since this one's so short.
Anti-Litigation Charm: I do not own.
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Exams were soon hanging over their heads, just a mere three weeks away, but Hermione was still distracted by the mystery of the stone. Thursday evening, in the last lesson she had scheduled with Draco before giving him time off to properly study for exams, she was sitting at her desk in the classroom, comparing the stone to diagrams she'd found in one Dumbledore's personal collection of books. The Headmaster had still not said a word, but Hermione felt she was slowly circling the answer: the stone was an important Alchemic element.
At a half past five, Severus slipped inside and walked over to her desk, where she was busily comparing diagrams.
"I've figured it out," he said quietly, summoning himself a chair and taking a seat beside her. "Bellatrix mentioned it at the last meeting—what she meant to retrieve was the Stone."
"What is it?" Hermione whispered, looking up at him.
"It's a Philosopher's Stone all over again," Severus murmured, picking up the stone and turning it over in his hand. "Albeit a lesser version of it."
Hermione gaped at him. "But how…"
"White makes silver, red makes gold. The white stone is a lesser version of the red," Severus continued, setting the Stone back down. "You know this, of course."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, looking crestfallen that the answer had been sitting in front of her the entire time, and she had completely overlooked it. "I should have seen it…"
"In this case, the one recovered from Charlie is an incomplete version of the white stone—enough information let slip at that meeting that I was able to put the pieces together. The Dark Lord fed the stone to a stolen MacFusty dragon to try and mature it." He paused to let this sink in. "I suspect that upon discovering the side effects of the Stone, the Dark Lord decided to use him to attack the train in order to collect Hufflepuff's Cup. The plan was to overturn the Hogwarts Express, and have an Imperiused member of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes squad retrieve the Horcrux. And if the opportunity presented itself, kidnap Potter. Ingenious, really."
Hermione realized now that she couldn't have seen this coming. No one, aside from those who had actually succeeded, knew how to make a Philosopher's Stone. Books rarely focused on the numerous failed attempts, and spent more time lauding the scarce successes. She couldn't have reasonably known what an incomplete Philosopher's Stone looked like. This also explained to her why Scrimgeour had been reluctant to have Charlie disposed of. Hermione had no doubt the MacFusty clan—a wizarding family that took responsibility for the dragons that resided within the Hebrides Isles—were furious at the theft, and Scrimgeour was understandably trying to work things out with them behind the scenes.
It further explained Charlie's tameness. The MacFusty clan took excellent care of their dragons.
"But where would they have gotten this?" Hermione breathed. "No one knows how to make a Philosopher's Stone! The knowledge died with Nicholas Flamel—"
"Flamel had a lot of failed experiments," Severus declared silkily. "Plenty of half-baked attempts at making a Philosopher's Stone, most of them useless, before he finally got it right. I suspect he gave this one to someone else as a souvenir or a gift. That the Dark Lord got hold of it and decided to try and complete it for himself."
"His own Philosopher's Stone," Hermione whispered. "But why? He doesn't need it for immortality."
"No. But it's a reservoir of magical energy that can perform feats we can only dream of," Severus said in an undertone. "He has his horcruxes; extending his life is no longer his greatest concern. But even the white Philosopher's stone has the ability to augment a wizard's power, transmute silver, or create golems or clones."
"Clones," Hermione murmured. "What kind of Dark Lord would want multiples of himself?"
"A very stupid one. I vote we let him do it, and exterminate himself."
"Very funny," she said, allowing herself a smirk. "But aside from that, it can be used to power normal spells—and if not normal, at least ones that any wizard with the right knowledge and power can cast. It could amplify it."
"He could take over the Ministry with it."
"Yes, he has been trying that for some time, hasn't he?" Hermione said, sounding amused.
"At any rate, the Stone's useless to him as well as us in its current form," Severus declared. "It's another half-baked attempt—Charlie would probably have to ingest it for another year for it to be of any use to us." He paused. "The Dark Lord was content to allow the dragon to keep it, even while under Hagrid's care, until he came across a text that suggested human sacrifice would speed up the Stone's maturation."
The hair on Hermione's back suddenly stood on end.
"No," she said sharply.
"Without the Stone, the Dark Lord has no reason to make such sacrifices," Severus said evenly. "As long as you keep it hidden safe away from him—perhaps you ought to destroy it, even—any potential victims are safe. From that fate, at least."
"I'll bring it up with the Headmaster," Hermione said, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I suspect he'll dissuade me from destroying it, but if he has a plan in mind for how—or why—to use it, then I may consider it first."
Severus bent over her, curling an arm around her shoulder and pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I agree," he whispered.
Hermione lifted up her head to kiss him. "Good job on finding out what it is," she praised quietly, and then looked at her watch.
"You'd better go… Draco will be here at any moment…"
Without another word, Severus stood up. Hermione watched him leave, feeling relief bubble up as she glanced back down at the incomplete Stone before her.
Draco arrived scant seconds later, and their session began.
~o~O~o~
"Thank Merlin we don't have NEWTs until next year," Ron groaned, as Hermione quizzed them both on Potions. They were both scraping by the class with barely an Acceptable or Exceeds Expectation, but knew they would need a solid pass to take the seventh-year class, and between going to Snape for help and going to Hermione—well, it wasn't a difficult decision. "Maybe I should quit Potions. There's no way I'm going to pass this."
"Stop being melodramatic," Hermione said lazily, flipping through Ron's copy of Advanced Potion-Making and making a few notes here and there. "I know you're perfectly capable when you put your mind to it."
"Maybe, if I wasn't taking four other classes," Ron said glumly.
"Don't complain, I've got five, and I still have to pass the Ministry's seventh-year exam for Care of Magical Creatures next year," Harry said, not looking up from his Potions book.
"I reckon you're doomed, mate. At least I have a chance."
Hermione laughed. "That's the spirit!"
"And Scrimgeour wants me to make a statement, once school's out," Harry added casually, but Hermione could see his eyes had stopped moving across the page. "Poster-boy and all. As if I ever wanted more publicity."
"Then why'd you agree to it?" Ron asked.
"Because he's right. People are panicked, and the Ministry's actually being somewhat competent—it's the least I can do." Harry looked at Ron. "You'd better be there too, mate. I'm not going alone."
"Who'd listen to me?" Ron joked, but he seemed to brighten a bit at not being left out of the loop. "Anyway, that's still a month away, there's still a chance the Ministry will end up pants-on-head again…"
"Not with Hermione pulling the strings," Harry said, with a strained sort of smile.
Aside from the flurry of activity caused by panicked, last-minute studying, the castle was relatively quiet. Severus's Dark Mark flared only once in the three weeks leading up to the exams.
"He's planning something, as usual," he said bitterly, tearing off his mask upon his return and tossing it to the floor. "He has several machinations going at once, and he's furious that most of them have already failed—retrieving Hufflepuff's Cup, recovering the Philosopher's Stone… Nott's set his son up for this, they're planning another infiltration."
"What for?" Hermione asked, rising to her feet, Notebook in one hand.
"I don't know, but whatever it is, they're certain you have it." Severus gave her a tired look. "In all probability, it's the Stone. The students have seen you fussing with it between classes, and I honestly have no idea where you keep it." He sneered. "But if they simply wanted me to retrieve the Stone, they wouldn't be doing this. This is merely a diversion. No plans have been finalized yet, but I'm expected to await my signal, to assist where I can, and maintain my cover by whatever it takes." Severus collapsed into one of the armchairs, as began removing his Death Eater garb. "Do feel free to fetch me a Firewhiskey, I could certainly use one tonight."
"Before or after the exams?" Hermione asked, retrieving an unopened bottle of Ogden's that she kept in the cabinet.
"I'm not yet certain."
"I'll inform the Headmaster, and we'll have to exercise some extra diligence," Hermione said, tapping the cork with her wand, causing it to shoot free. She summoned a glass, and poured out the dark, amber liquid to a few finger-widths. She capped the bottle and then offered him the drink, which he took gratefully. "I think Proudfoot can be trusted to know, and we'll have Tonks and Kingsley on patrol. The rest of the Order will be on-call."
"And the Stone?" Severus asked, taking a sip of the burning liquid.
"Safely hidden," Hermione assured him, reaching for her Notebook to make a final notation. She fiddled with the dial on her wristwatch for a moment. "I'll be right back."
There was a yank behind her navel as the wristwatch Portkeyed her away, where she appeared in the Headmaster's office, spinning in place until she regained her bearings and took a step toward his desk.
"I suppose you have news for me, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked, sitting back in his chair with a copy of the Evening Prophet.
Hermione helped herself to a seat. "The Dark Lord's preparing to make a move." She laced her fingers together. "His declared target is the Stone, but Severus suspects he's after something else."
"I see," Dumbledore said, lowering the newspaper to gaze at Hermione with expectant curiosity. "And what do you think?"
Hermione chewed her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment. "I believe he's right," she said slowly. "There are quieter ways the Dark Lord could go after me to try and retrieve the Stone. But that would have to wait until after I left Hogwarts for the summer, which leads me to believe there is something else that he wants… here. Getting the stone would just be a bonus, at this point."
"Interesting deduction," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. "And what do you hypothesize this to be?"
Hermione paused.
"I've had no luck locating Ravenclaw's Diadem," she admitted quietly, "but I'm convinced it's at the school. Tom Riddle must have found where it was hidden, when Ravenclaw's daughter originally stole it, but I believe he brought it back here when he came to ask for a job. But I haven't yet found where it's hidden now, in the castle… and, of course, it's another chance to go after Harry," she added blithely. "He's likely hoping to catch us all off-guard—I imagine the idea of storming Hogwarts to kill Harry appeals to him greatly."
"Not a very Slytherin move, is it?" Dumbledore murmured.
"His primary reasons for coming are subtler, I admit, but the Dark Lord we know has always appreciated grand gestures," Hermione said with a faint half-smile. "That hasn't changed."
"No, it has not," Dumbledore agreed. He sat up a bit straighter in his chair. "And where do you plan to hide the Stone when he comes?"
Hermione raised her finger to her lips, tracing them thoughtfully.
"I do have a very shrewd idea," she said slowly.
~o~O~o~
When she returned to her quarters, it was to find that Severus had drained a second glass and finally gotten around to kicking off one of his shoes, and was bent over to take care of the other. Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him, coaxing him to sit up, and then knelt down and began untying his boot.
"What did Dumbledore say?" Severus asked quietly.
"He's not surprised, and frankly, neither am I," Hermione said, pulling off the shoe and rubbing his sock-covered foot. He leaned back with a sigh at this, and she slowly peeled it off, lifting his foot so that she could kiss it. His eyes, which had drooped a bit, flew open at this. Hermione set his right foot down, and did the same with his left. "We'll just have to get through it, as usual. And this time, we have warning, and a plan."
"I don't suppose I'm to be let in on it," Severus murmured.
"Tit for tat, husband," Hermione said, massaging the instep of his foot. He sighed at this. "When you find out a bit more information on what they're doing, we'll know where to put you."
"This time, I would appreciate if it did not end up with me knocked out in the Shrieking Shack."
"I'll do my best," Hermione promised mischievously, but her smile was warm as she moved to straddle his lap and began working on the buttons of the white shirt he wore underneath his robes.
"And preferably something that does not resemble last year's fiasco at Malfoy Manor."
"I hope not," Hermione whispered, pulling his shirt open and nibbling on his chest. He sighed again, lifting his chin and turning his head to the side to give her more access as she worked her way up. His hands came to lightly rest on her neck, and one thumb lazily traced the scar across her left cheek. "I plan to use this as an opportunity to find Ravenclaw's Horcrux, now that the Dark Lord is attempting to salvage the ones he has left. I have no intention of being tied up and used as bait again."
Severus let out a huff of subdued laughter. "It still shocks me that you agreed to that."
"Anything for you," Hermione breathed into his ear, holding him close to her.
"Even sacrificing your life to maintain my cover?" Severus asked morosely, brushing her hair out of her face so he could see her better.
"I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be your handler."
After that, talking ceased. Little by little, they managed to worm each other out of their clothes, enough so that when Severus nudged her into turning around so that her bare, ever so lightly marred back was presented to him, he could spoon her against his chest, kissing and nibbling on her throat as he steadily paced their coupling. Sighs and the sound of hitched breathing filled the room, full of promise and stolen contentment. He might have whispered to her, if he could have thought of something to say; she might have done the same, if she were not so equally lost for words. But they had forgotten discourse. Their eyes were closed now, with the sort of enjoyment that only came when their worries were temporarily melted away, and when they found pleasure together.
It was in these moments that they were vulnerable. Times where Hermione surrendered the control she normally fought to maintain with all of the force and cunning she possessed, and allowed herself to be utterly open and defenseless. Rare occurrences in which Severus let his defenses drop entirely, in which his expressions and intentions were laid bare and the quiet fear and trepidation he suppressed each day could be seen reflected in his eyes. When it became clear that he was the center of her world—the maker and master of it. When it was painfully obvious that he possessed an intense sort of adoration for her that could not quite be put into words. A scarce moment when they no longer struggled to keep their true selves carefully repressed and concealed for their respective roles.
His arms locked tightly around her waist as he came, and she squeezed him deliberately, drawing it out; moments later, still sunken in a state of lassitude, he reached a hand around to finish her off, causing her to come apart with a lazy, practiced hand. He would spend the minutes breathing slowly and deeply to try and calm his pounding heart, while she would send it thumping faster by twisting her head to the side to suckle on the underside of his throat. They were, in some respects, two perfectly opposing forces that cancelled out in the most pleasurable way possible.
And then she buried her face in his chest.
"Let's never leave," she murmured.
"Sorry, love," her husband replied hoarsely, stroking her back with a single finger. The Dark Mark, which Hermione often tried to mentally block out when they were intimate, stood out starkly against his pale forearm, as if to remind them that they were never truly free. "The world, it seems, does not work that way."
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~Anubis