A week passed before Harry gave her the all clear. She tended her duties in the Infirmary with distraction and spent the evenings alone, worrying herself harried.
She was appreciative of Ron having Rose at his place for most of the nights. She would have made a poor parent, spending hours upon hours with her nose buried in books about poisons and healing and law. She hardly spoke to anyone, except the daily floo calls to Harry's –which often turned into multiple calls a day– and she sometimes neglected to eat or sleep or even shower.
The flight out to Azkaban on broomstick –Harry's default preference– had her soaking wet and chilled to the bone from the moment they kicked off from the ground. She had only ever seen it in pictures before, but the rocky cliff in the North Sea with its imposing fortress looked every bit as foreboding as she had imagined.
She knew from the history books that the first person to inhabit the island had been dark, a wizard named Ekrizdis, who lured muggle sailors out to torture and murder them. It set the stage for a brutal prison, in which many criminals had perished or gone insane.
Allowing visitors here was unprecedented, a feat only Harry could have pulled off. The guards knew it and they glanced at her with mistrustful curiosity as Harry locked her in with a rattling of keys and a clang of the wrought-iron door.
"We have one hour," he whispered in her ear, nodding curtly to an Auror dressed in purple who had a baton hanging from his belt.
"Come back down when I call for you. And Hermione–" Harry gave her a grave look. "I know it must be tempting, but please –whatever your business with him is– don't do anything rash. Not here, not this time. We just can't."
"I know that, Harry." She gave him a nervous smile. "I know what you have done for me. You have my solemn promise."
She couldn't help but notice the way Harry's shoulders sagged slightly. "Okay," he said. "His cell is in the tower with the Death Eaters. You can't go wrong, there's only one way up."
The guard locked her through another door, which led to the longest set of stairs she had ever seen. They seemed to go on forever until they finally ended in a narrow landing with no windows. The upmost corridor was dark, damp, and quiet.
Someone coughed in the distance, an eerie echo lingering for several heartbeats. Hermione's hands were sweaty as she snuck past the first few cells, only to encounter a long, pale face in the third. Dolohov, her mind supplied and her hand instinctively went to her chest. Would he remember?
But Dolohov said nothing as she passed him by, looking rather like he thought she were a ghost.
When she reached the middle of the line, something –intuition perhaps, or traces of a familiar scent– had her approach one of the iron-bar doors.
A patch of moonlight flitted through the bars of a narrow opening in the wall, casting shadows on the floor of the cell. Severus sat perfectly still on a bench and her heart made a painful start. He looked like a man without hope, like he had given up.
Hermione placed herself in the bleak light, attempting not to startle him or alert the other Death Eaters. His head jerked up and they stared at each other. But Severus did not move and she felt suddenly a little awkward for longing for him so.
Was he not happy to have her there? She knew he could be proud. Did it pain him to have her seeing him like this?
"I had to come," she whispered, voice cracking. "Severus, are you all right?"
He straightened. "Are you – real?"
"Yes." She laughed softly. Dunderhead. "Yes, Severus. It's me." She reached a hand out for him through the rusty bars.
Careful, like in a trance, like he still couldn't quite believe it was her, he stood. And as though she had some inexplicable power that pulled on him, he closed the gap between her hand and his chest. He flinched when her fingertips touched him then froze. She grasped his coat and his gaze fell down on her hand disbelievingly.
"You are," he whispered.
"Of course I am."
He closed his eyes for a moment and covered her fingers with his own, holding them there. His hand was cold and stiff, as though it had somehow taken on some of the unrelenting harshness of this dreary place, but the movement of his breaths beneath her was present and alive. It was ridiculous how much she had missed him.
"Forgive me." His frown deepened.
"Don't say that." She shook her head tiredly. "How are you? Are they mistreating you?"
"They aren't terribly bad to me. I need a bath, but otherwise–" He cleared his voice and looked at her. "I shudder to ask how you managed to get here."
"I am that out of place?" She smiled faintly and he pressed her fingers close.
"There are only raging lunatics in here," he murmured. "You are…you."
The tenderness in his voice –his obvious affection for her– pierced her. How he managed to put such meaning into a single word, she had no idea. But if she had ever had any doubt about how he felt for her, those instantly vanished. She felt him tremble slightly and she turned her hand to interlace her fingers with his.
"You must think I've gone mad," he said, releasing her hand. "I don't usually lose control like I did, not like that. I didn't mean to hurt him."
She frowned as she looked up at him, taking a wild guess. "You're worrying about Teddy?"
Severus watched her warily. "I would never do anything like that to you, Hermione. I hope you can find it in your heart to believe me." His voice was raw and so low she could barely hear him. "Not to you and not to Rose."
Hermione huffed. He was such an idiot. But he was her idiot now and that was all that mattered. "I don't care about Teddy," she whispered, matching her voice to his. "Teddy is fine. You were unbelievably stupid to do that, but he is fine."
He swallowed. "Rose, she was–" He shifted, not quite able to express himself. "Is she–?"
"She was frightened, yes. But she's all right as well." She offered him a reassuring smile. "She misses you."
Severus flinched. "She does?"
"Of course she does, you git."
"I miss her as well. Tell her that, will you?" He sighed at her nod and his eyes trailed over her in the darkness. "You look, ah…tired."
"I look like a ghoul, I know. So do you." She smiled gently.
"Me?" He gave her one of his rare almost-smiles in return. "I see no difference."
"I can't believe they would do this to you. What do we do?"
"We?" Severus released her hand then. "Hermione, you shouldn't even be here." He gave her a frown that seemed at once confused and troubled. "Go home. Pretend this never happened and they won't hold it against you."
"Oh, Severus. Don't even think that." She broke him off and pointed at herself. "Hermione Granger, war hero, remember? And I have Harry on my side. We're going to get you out of here."
He shook his head. "Don't do this," he said softly, the line between his eyes deepening. "This is all my mess, not yours. You've done nothing wrong."
She stuck a finger in his chest, wrinkling her nose in irritation. "Do you honestly believe that you can carry on all by yourself? I swear, you're even denser than Harry." Severus didn't do anything to stop her, he didn't even move away. He just looked down at her with a wary expression, his hands dropping to his sides.
"You're not alone anymore," she said more gently. "I would have helped you, I can help you. We're in this together, I was hoping you knew that by now. Severus, how are you really? Tell me."
"Don't worry about me," he answered, but his tone was a little off. "I'm all right."
"I know you're not. I brought you this." She pulled an orange, unlabelled vial from her pocked and slid it between the bars. Severus watched it and she heard him exhale a ragged breath.
"I know you, Severus," she whispered. "You don't have to hide yourself from me." She pushed the vial at him and he took it gingerly. "How bad is it?"
"I would be worried," he said faintly, "if you hadn't brought me this." His eyes quickly searched out hers before returning to the potion in his hand. In them she saw his soul laid bare. "Thank you."
She bit her lip. Took a step closer to the bars. She was afraid of his answer, yet she needed to know.
"Will it kill you?"
Instead of answering, he drew nearer to the gate and leaned his forehead on it. Her stomach flipped and she copied his movement. It brought them close in a way they had only been a couple of times before. Close enough that if he breathed too deeply, they would be touching.
"Hermione, I'm sorry and I love you."
He spoke so quietly that she wasn't completely sure she had heard him right. And just then, a shimmering brilliant patronus appeared at her side.
"Isn't that-?" Severus blinked against bright light and drew away from her.
Hermione sighed. "Harry is waiting for me," she said. But instead of moving away, she grasped a tighter hold of him, leaning her head near the place where his heart was.
"Don't you dare die," she whispered into his shirt. "I'm not finished with you yet."
~o~
It was the morning after full moon. The monster in the cell furthest to his left had transformed that night and Severus hadn't slept a single second, kept awake by the horrible sound of a two hundred pound wolf slamming its claws into the rattling iron bars. He had been genuinely terrified that they might give way.
Greyback was dozing peacefully now and all of Azkaban seemed to collectively hold its breath to keep him doing so. Severus sat on his bench eating the porridge around the worms and his fingers still weren't quite steady. He felt old and worn out, like he was slowly being gnawed into rags by this place and the people inside it.
The cheerful skip of Potter's familiar steps nearly had him drop the bowl. He discarded the remaining dregs and the worms and composed himself quickly.
After their last conversation and the way he left, Severus wouldn't have been surprised if Potter was through with him, no matter what Hermione said. He felt his pulse quicken when Potter pulled out a set of keys and locked himself inside.
"All is well?" he asked warily.
"Even better." Potter promptly produced a piece of parchment and waved it under his nose. "Here," he said around an exuberant smile. "Don't tell me you don't trust me now, Severus. Few others would be able to pull this off for you."
Severus squinted down at the letter, not quite feeling Potter's enthusiasm. His eyes didn't agree with the poor lighting in the cell, which wasn't well-suited for reading. "What is it?" he grumbled. "I didn't bring my glasses."
"Oh. I suppose you didn't." Potter took the parchment back and beamed. "It isn't quite a pardon," he admitted. "But you've been granted a quick trial. I filed a complaint for you and this is the result. You're even allowed a witness. I'm feeling rather optimistic."
It didn't come naturally for Severus to share that sentiment. He had been waned off optimism at an early age and there was no denying the facts: he was well and truly guilty of parts of the charges against him. Even if he had a witness, he couldn't see how that might change anything.
"And who would that be?" he asked tiredly.
"Why," said Potter with a befuddled shake of his head, "me, who else?"
Severus swallowed. For a second he almost dared hope. Because with Potter there to speak for him…
He was very much still the boy who defeated the Dark Lord. The saviour of wizarding Britain. Potter had the hearts and trust of the public and was known to be honourable, brave, and loved by all. If anyone were to sway the Wizengamot, it had to be him.
Severus looked up uncertainly. "You," he murmured. "You would do that?"
"Of course I would." Potter shrugged, as if it was nothing. As if there wasn't even a question whether he would do it. "I know the Ministry," he said, "and I know how things work. We'll have to take it the proper way, of course. There will be a full court hearing, but I'm feeling confident on the matter of the Death Eater conspiracy. I've seen through your file and they have no proper evidence. I'm sure I can kick up a fuss."
Severus was stunned. He didn't know what to say and Potter seemed to mistake his silence for misgiving.
"Come on, Severus," he said, "trust me, just this once. I know we can make it."
Severus shifted uneasily. "I am forever in your debt," he said. "And that's the second time, Potter. I have no means to repay you for this."
He had nothing Potter could possibly want. No money, no power, the twat could brew his own potions now. Well, maybe he could be nice to Potter's children once they started Hogwarts, but what difference did one lousy schoolteacher make in the grand scheme of things? Why? Why was Potter doing this?
But Potter merely snorted a laugh. "Consider this," he said, "Hermione is my best friend – along with Ron. We've been through a lot, we have a special relationship. And for some unlikely reason I can't understand, she seems to like you." He grinned impishly. "I'll do anything for Hermione. She certainly has done for me. So bailing out one grumpy old git like you? Severus, don't mention it."
"Thank you, Potter." Severus cleared his voice, which had become slightly gruff. "This means a lot to me."
"I can imagine," said Potter lightly. He went over to the gap in the wall to look outside, allowing Severus a moment to collect himself. "I'm going to require one thing from you though," he murmured with his back still turned to Severus. "Will you do it?"
A catch. Severus frowned. There always was. "Do what?"
Potter sighed. "The next time I return, on the day of your trial, I'm bringing someone with me. I want you to trust me then. Do as they ask."
"And what will they do?"
"Nothing that needs worrying about." Potter brushed him off with a wave of his hand. "So what are your plans?" he asked, turning around to face him. "If – when you get out of here? Will you go back to Hogwarts?"
Severus couldn't help himself. He huffed a laugh. If Potter thought it that easy to put him off a topic, he was mistaken. Yet then again, a rock felt like it had just been lifted off his chest and it wasn't all that hard to indulge him.
"I suppose I am," he said, allowing the fragile sliver of a hope to take hold. "If Flitwick will have me. In any case, I'll sleep for a day and a night. And I'll shower and I'll eat. But not porridge, anything but that. If I can help it, I'm never having it again."
Potter turned his head slightly, giving Severus a sideway glance. "And you'll do all of this alone?" he promoted.
"Why, yes," replied Severus. "I'm always alone."
The look on Potter's face turned exasperated. He faced the room fully and leaned his back against the wall. "Hermione is worried about you," he said flatly. "I have explicit orders to give words back. How are you?"
Severus blinked at the sudden change of pace. "Tell her I'm fine," he said cautiously. He was, but only thanks to Hermione and the potion. Well and Potter of course, but surely, he knew that already.
"Okay." Potter watched him, seeming like he had expected more. "If you say so."
"I am."
There was an awkward pause where Potter kept on staring and Severus attempted to sort out what he might possibly want. But in the end he just gave up. He was too tired to play games and didn't have it in him to fight. He sighed, spreading his hands slightly.
"What is it, Potter?"
"She's far too good for you, you know."
Potter gave him a level stare and Severus had to look away. It wasn't the first time anyone had said that to him. "I know," he said quietly. "I wish I could be more…"
"What?"
Severus blinked. What not? More easy going. More her age. Handsome. Yet, that wasn't quite it either. "…Better."
"She'll forgive you when you go wrong," huffed Potter with a headshake. "She'll do anything for you. But Severus, you have to tell her eventually. Because after this trial, there'll be no more shadow ordering of illegal substances."
"I know that…"
"I assume this thing might kill you." Potter crossed his arms in front of his chest and pushed off from the wall. "How long can you go on without the potion?"
Severus made a grimace. The truth was that he had no idea. The illness he suffered had crept upon him slowly, after the healers at St. Mungo's had finally dismissed him after a long and taxing convalescence.
His internal organs had been their main concern back then because unlike Arthur Weasley, he had lost so much blood that system failure was a much greater threat than poisoning. Presuming the venom had left him along with the blood, they had focused on restoring his heart functionality.
Thus it wasn't until months later that he found himself seizing up on the floor at his home in Spinner's End, knowing from experience with the cruciatus curse that he was suffering some form of nerve damage. By then, going back to being poked and prodded by mistrustful and less than willing healers had never really been an option. It seemed to him that none of them would have cared in any case. They saw him as a Death Eater, just like the infernal Ministry.
"Right," said Potter, backing up a little. "Severus, this isn't something to hide from someone you–" he broke off, frowning. "If you won't tell her, I will."
Severus didn't know how to reply to that. Because unlike Potter and Hermione, he was no Gryffindor. Telling her himself was probably the right thing to do, he knew that on some level. He had been on the verge of explaining things for her on more than one occasion too. Yet somehow, after he had finally gathered the remains of his tattered bravery, there had always been an interruption allowing him the easy way out.
But now? With his future so uncertain? He was afraid it was too little and too late.
~o~
Severus trial was to be held in public. As much as she was glad for the opportunity to oversee it –and to protest should it prove necessary– she knew that Severus would not appreciate the commotion. Nor would he be comfortable with all the extra eyes on him.
As she delivered her wand in the Ministry's atrium, she hoped he wouldn't take it too hard. The trial had ended up announced in the Daily Prophet and due to the planned release of the Death Eaters in the coming week, it had garnered a great deal of attention.
Attention – and dispute. An extraordinary number of people had already lined up, old and young, shabby and smart. Most Hermione didn't recognise, but there were a few that she did, including Susan Bones, Cornelius Fudge, and Rita Skeeter. Though their reasons might be different, it was extremely unlikely that they had all turned up in a show of support.
"Hermione!"
As she reached the end of the queue before the lift that would take her down to the courtroom on level ten, Ron came jogging after her, much to the annoyance of the other passengers.
"There you are," he said, flashing white teeth at a particularly grumpy-looking hag in the back. "I nearly couldn't find you in the crowd – are they all here just for Snape?"
"I wish they would have stayed at home." Hermione gave him a faint smile. "But I'm happy to see you, I was afraid you wouldn't make it."
There was a ding as the doors closed and the lift lurched downwards with a swoop.
"Of course I came," said Ron. "I know this is important to you. Besides–" he glanced around them and lowered his voice a little, "–I'm anxious about the outcome too, you know. Snape certainly deserves to be left alone and all that, but…there's a lot at stake today."
There was, which was exactly why Hermione was so worried. If the Wizengamot chose to use Severus' trial to set a precedent for stricter treatment of the Death Eaters, he would be found guilty without doubt. Whether he was or wasn't would bear no consequence.
"I know," she murmured, struggling for balance as the lift changed direction. "His life is in Harry's hands now. We can only hope they'll be fair and that he can make them see Severus' decent sides as well and not just the flaws."
He hadn't always kept to the straight and narrow road, but on the whole he was good. More than good enough for her.
"Right," said Ron pensively. He paused for a beat while giving her a sideways glance. "Listen, Hermione, I've been meaning to ask Gwen–"
The lift jerked to a stop and with another ding, the doors slid open. The hag from before elbowed her way past Ron.
"You want to try for a baby?" Hermione peered over the head of a goblin in pinstripe suit and bowler. This was a pleasant distraction from her nerves. "But that's wonderful," she told Ron. "Molly will be delighted, we'll all be."
Ron's ears went bright red. "No," he said quickly, "not that question, she's got at least five years left with the Harpies. I'll ask her to marry me is what I meant."
"Oh. Right." Hermione grinned. "Sorry, I thought– you think she will say yes then?"
"You tell me." Ron shrugged. "That's what I'm hoping anyway."
"Don't worry." Hermione shook his shoulder lightly as they entered courtroom ten. "I'm sure she will."
The place was huge and deep underground. Marble columns and Byzantine frescos adorned the walls and there were seats for at least a hundred and fifty people in addition to the fifty in the farthest corner that belonged to the Wizengamot. Everything was lit by four large fire bowls behind the stands
"Yeah," said Ron from behind her. "But…what about you?"
Hermione faltered for a moment. On a dais in the centre of the room stood a wrought-iron cage, fortified with ten-inch spikes turned inward.
They couldn't possibly think such measures necessary, could they?
Ron tapped her arm, making her tear her eyes off it. "I'm sorry, Ron. What did you say?"
"Merlin beard, I'm bad at this." He groaned a little. "Hermione, I'm trying to pry into your love life."
"Pardon?" She blinked at him.
"You've been…unfocused lately." Ron tilted his head at the dais. "I'm almost wondering if there's…more between you two. More than mere friendship."
"Oh – right. Of course you do." Hermione closed her eyes. She hadn't talked to Ron yet. Not in the way she had to Harry, and she had been so preoccupied that he hadn't really been given the opportunity to ask her either. But Ron deserved to know of course, because this concerned him greatly. No matter what the outcome of the trial was.
The trial that would make or break a family for her. She could see their silhouettes even now when she squeezed her eyes shut – the ones that mattered most to her. A tall dark man and a tiny girl with fiery curls.
"You're right," she said, opening her eyes to face Ron. "I love him. And I think he loves me too."
"I suspected you did." Ron watched her for a moment, then he drew his hand through his hair. "Hermione, that's – this is bad. They could very well lock him up forever."
"I know that," she said gently, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Because Ron's opinion mattered to her, as it always would. "You…approve then?"
"What's there to criticise?" Ron surprised her by pulling her in for a fierce hug. "Don't worry," he murmured. "With Snape's irresistible charm, good looks, and great wealth, you'll be set for life."
She was eternally grateful for his ability to raise her spirit when she was at her lowest. "Thanks, Ron," she muttered against his shirt. "Thank you for being here."
They found seats near the centre row, where they would have a clear view of the court as well as the witness chairs. Not long after, several aurors arrived with Harry among them. Then, the distinguished members of the Wizengamot trickled in, wearing their plum-coloured robes with an elaborate silver initial on the lapel.
The Supreme Mugwump, a gentleman of some-and-eighty named Akingbode, came last. He settled behind the high and foreboding podium that was designated to him with an air of importance. A hush went through the room as he called for order.
Hermione watched the door that lead to the dungeons anxiously as Akingbode encouraged them to be brave, and prepared for all eventualities. He proceeded by ensuring them that yes, he-who-must-not-be-named is dead and gone forever and no, there are no possible ways in which he can return.
Next announced was the prosecutor. His name was Auror McFadgen and Hermione's heart sank as he stated his errand with cool indifference.
"I call on the accused," said Akingbode then, "Mr Severus Snape, age fifty-one, formerly employed as potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, now suspended upon the outcome of this trial. Mr Snape is known to this court from two previous cases, in which he was cleared of charges, provided his cooperation in fulfilling certain clauses."
"Clauses we have grounds to suspect have now been broken," added McFadgen in his cold, dull drone.
The sound of footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. Then there was an uproar of voices. Not even the presence of two brawny aurors –nor that Severus had his hands bound behind his back– prevented those on the front benches to recoil when he was led to the centre chair and chained to it. Hermione's heart was in her throat.
"Death Eater," cried a woman from a few rows below them. "You're not wanted!"
Akingbode stood as well. "Order," he demanded. His amplified voice rang through the arched walls and the crowd –and that awful woman– reclaimed their seats and settled.
"Well," said McFadgen, "If it isn't dear old Severus Snape. Back again. I fear we may never be rid of you."
The audience was too anxious to pay heed to such a bad joke, but Severus stood a little straighter as McFadgen once again went on about his clauses. Upon noticing Hermione in the crowd, his lips parted slightly, as though for taking a deep breath. He seemed for a moment to struggle not to show his emotion. She tried to muster a smile for his sake only to find that she couldn't.
Ron's hand closed around hers bracingly.
"…Possession of illegal substances, fraud, and conspiring in Death Eater activities," said McFadgen, concluding the list of accusations. "Initial interrogations revealed that the suspect is unwilling or unable to offer reasonable explanations."
"Mr Snape," said Akingbode, "what have you to say for yourself?"
"I will speak for him." Harry stood then, and all eyes fell on him. "But let it be noted," he said sharply, "that I grow weary from bearing witness in the same case as I did twelve years previously. I should think that this court would remember my testimony."
No one spoke –or even stirred– for the span of several seconds. Perhaps no one dared be the first to contradict him; Harry had long ago earned their respect.
Thus, the unlucky task fell on Akingbode. "Things change, Auror Potter," he replied with dignity. "Times change." He turned to his fellow men. "We are on the brink of a rebellion as this Wizengamot has decided to proceed with the perhaps most unpopular decision since the reign of Cornelius Fugde."
Uncomfortable shifting in seats a few rows up from Hermione and Ron followed this gripe. Akingbode easily ignored it in favour of bestowing all his attention on Harry. "As I am sure you understand," he said, "this court does not take lightly on the release of Death Eaters into our society. Are you saying that that Mr Snape is innocent?"
"I am," said Harry forcefully. "Mr Snape is not a Death Eater. He is a war hero."
"Auror Potter is among few who sees it this way," replied McFadgen, who seemed to have fewer qualms about going against Harry's opinion. "But the hard facts are known to everyone as there were numerous witnesses. Auror Potter was the one to dispatch he-who-must-not-be-named. Neville Longbottom rid us of his snake. To my knowledge, Mr Snape never even combated a single Death Eater."
"Not every hero carries his torch held high, Supreme Mugwump." To all appearance, Harry seemed eerily calm, but Hermione knew him well enough to notice the tremor of anger in his voice. "Mr Snape did his deeds in secrecy. He protected me for ten years. He was Albus Dumbledore's spy for far longer than that. You shouldn't punish him for doing what was asked of him – what was required."
"And we shall not." Akingbode shifted some scrolls around. "Our business today is not with Mr Snape's deeds in the war, but with his present misconduct."
"Yet his loyalties are our business." Harry visibly bristled. "And they remain unchanged."
"I fear we are already straying off topic," said McFadgen, effectively overruling any reply Akingbode might have given. "If Auror Potter will not provide answers, we must then turn to the accused."
He left his seat to stand before the spiked cage. "Mr Snape, I would like to remind you that in case of great doubt, I have been granted permission to request the use of veritaserum for your trial. Now, how did you come by your apparent expertise on the substance known as angel's trumpet?"
Severus raised his eyes from where he had been staring at the floor unseeingly. He glanced at Harry for the briefest moment before clearing his voice.
"I have used it in the past," he confessed. "By the request of the Dark Lord. I am…familiar with its properties."
Mumbled discontent buzzed through the audience at his choice of epithet for Voldemort. Hermione exchanged a troubled look with Ron.
"Supreme Mugwump," interjected Harry before McFadgen could rally, "it is Auror McFadgen that strays off topic and I beg that he checks his records. Mr Snape has admitted to his use of this ingredient in a testimony given to me on the fifth of this month. We are not discussing its having happened, but rather Mr Snape's purpose in doing so."
A fair few of the members of the Wizengamot gave nods in agreement. Others, who had perhaps not read the mentioned documents as thoroughly, looked at McFadgen in expectance of his rebuttal.
"Yet how, pray tell," he replied, "could such an ingredient be used for anything that isn't nefarious?"
"Allow me for a moment–" interjected Akingbode. He peered distractedly over the top of a stack of scrolls. "–Mr Snape, traces of this plant's remains by the pounds were found in your dwelling at Hogwarts. Please explain to the court why you possessed such quantities."
Severus hesitated for a moment too long. Hermione understood his reluctance, he was no Gryffindor, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wish him able to appear more…trustworthy.
Did he not believe he was innocent?
"A life's supply," said Harry quickly. "It is Mr Snape's wish, I believe, to retire from his post. Angel's trumpet is needed for a potion that he uses to combat an illness gained upon being bitten by Voldemort's snake. Since it is illegal in this country, he could only acquire it through the dispensation held by Hogwarts School for classroom supplies. Therein lies his explanation for the accusation of fraud."
The Wizengamot received this statement with a murmur of voices. A witch with brown hair and wire-rim spectacles stood. "There can be no question," she said, "by those whose children have attended his classes, that Mr Snape does not like to teach, nor is particularly good at it. However–" here she turned to Harry, "–I must agree, to some extent, with Auror Potter: the question that needs answering is whether these alleged motivations reflect Mr Snape's truthful ones."
"I would like to call upon a witness then," said McFadgen. At a nod of consent from Akingbode, he proceeded by announcing Auror Proudfoot, whom Hermione instantly recognised.
"That's her," she whispered to Ron, unable to keep her voice even, "she was there when they apprehended him."
"Not you favourite, I take it?" Ron gave her a quizzical look.
"I don't think I trust her." Hermione fisted her hands. "I don't see what she could contribute in any case, she knows nothing about Severus at all."
"It might surprise you," said McFadgen to Severus, as though he had heard Hermione's concerns, "that while in Azkaban, your conduct has been under surveillance." He gestured at Proudfoot, who had taken place in a witness chair next to Akingbode's podium. "Spy against spy, so to speak. I think it may benefit the court to hear what Auror Proudfoot has to say."
Proudfoot was only too willing. "Mr Snape," she said, "has been uncooperative and obstinate since the time of his imprisonment. He has insulted me, refused to make a statement, and spoken ill of the Ministry of Magic. He hates muggles, as evidenced by his actions as Headmaster of Hogwarts. In prison, he complained about everything. The–"
Harry cleared his voice. "Is this necessary, Madam?" he asked, seeming genuinely puzzled. "These seem like personal grievances to me. Again, are we accusing Mr Snape of suspicious activities or are we attempting to resolve unattended feelings towards him for his part in the war?"
"Quite," prompted Akingbode. "There is a point here, I trust?"
"There is." Patches of red formed high on Proudfoot's cheeks. "During his stay in Azkaban, Mr Snape conversed amiably with his fellow inmates –all of them Death Eaters. And I happened to observe certain actions that makes me believe that he planned a break-out."
Harry blinked. "You think Mr Snape plotted his escape?" he blurted. "I assure you, it can't be."
"Oh, but it can," said Proudfoot. "You see, he confessed."
Silence followed this accusation. For a moment, even Harry looked uncertain. "Confessed?" he asked cautiously. "…How?"
"These are interesting observations indeed," interjected McFadgen. "Clear evidence points at the accused."
"A letter was written," said Proudfoot in answer to Harry. "By him, to someone on the outside. It is absolutely prohibited – it can only mean one thing."
"Auror Potter, I take it you knew nothing of this?" said Akingbode.
"Am I allowed to speak?" asked Severus suddenly, making all heads turn on him. He had been standing perfectly still through all of this. The look in his eyes spoke of no measurable surprise over Proudfoot's accusations.
Akingbode gave a curt nod of consent and Severus looked at Harry. "She claims I wrote a letter," he said, "yet she never saw one dispatched. My intention that day was not to arrange my escape, but rather a private affair that is of no concern to this trial."
"Everything is our concern," said McFadgen. "What was in this letter?"
Severus' reply was inaudible to Hermione –and to most of the audience– but Akingbode raised his eyebrows. "Indeed?" he said, seeming rather amazed. "To whom?"
"Does he really have to answer that?" For the space of a second, Harry's eyes had seemed to drift in Hermione's direction, but the moment passed too quickly to be certain.
"I suppose not," replied Akingbode awkwardly. He looked at McFadgen. "Is there more?"
McFadgen looked at Proudfoot and Proudfoot looked at McFadgen. It seemed that there was not.
The evidence was frail, to say the least. Hermione had feared that public opinion would sway the Wizengamot, but so far, no cries for a hanging were forthcoming. Yet did not mean that they wouldn't. Perhaps the spectators had merely learned their lesson after the previous Death Eater trials. The court had been both generous and heavy-handed with fines back then to deal with courtroom misbehaviour.
A moment passed before Harry said with thinly veiled enthusiasm, "well, in that case, I would like to call on a witness of my own."
"Bring them in." Akingbode waved his hand and up walked Augustus, one of Hermione's former colleagues from St Mungo's.
"Mr Pye," said Harry, "would you please state your occupation and your reasons for being here?"
"Yes," replied Augustus nervously. "I am a healer at the Dai Llewellyn Ward. At St Mungo's, that is – creature-induced injuries." His eyes slid over the people of the Wizengamot to land on Severus, which seemed to lend him some much needed confidence. "I had Mr Snape for a medical examination," he continued with improved animation, "on Auror Potter's request. I have treated bites from this particular snake in the past."
"And what is so special about this snake?" McFadgen seemed to realise his bad choice of words and backtracked. "I mean, apart from its having belonged to you-know-who?"
"That snake weighed three hundred pounds," cried Augustus. "That is quite a bit of venom."
"Obviously." Akingbode tapped a finger on his chin as he glanced at McFadgen, who busily rifled through his paperwork and seemed to mount no objection. "And the effect of this bite on Mr Snape was…?"
"It should have killed him," said Augustus simply. "I can attest to his illness."
"Do you find it reasonable then, to think that he would use the angel's trumpet on himself?"
"Most certainly," replied Augustus and right then, Hermione could have kissed him. "Mr Snape suffers seizures caused by the prolonged effect of toxins in his bloodstream. That he has made himself a remedy based on a nerve agent, I do not doubt in the least. It can be the only reason he is still alive."
"Well," said Akingbode pensively. "This gives us something to think about, I'm sure. But our time is running out. Is there additional evidence on either side?"
He looked at McFadgen and Harry in turn, who both shook their heads, before addressing the Wizengamot. "In that case I suppose we require some time for deliberation?"
They did, and long, tense minutes passed in which Hermione sat on the edge of her seat wishing Aurors Proudfoot and McFadgen a sight of their errors. She caught Severus' attention only once and he gave her a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes.
When court resumed, Akingbode marched straight back up to his podium. "You may read the verdict," he declared.
The witch with the wire-rim spectacles stood. "The superior court of the Wizengamot on the matter of the wizards and witches of the United Kingdom against one Severus Snape," she read. "We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty of plotting a reestablishment of the group formerly known as the Death Eaters. We likewise find the claims of his pre-planned crimes against the muggles to be not true."
Hermione could have wept had she believed her ears. Akingbode merely nodded with the air of someone who had gone through the exact same thing many times in the past. "So say you all?" he asked.
"So say we all," replied the Wizengamot.
"Then," directed Akingbode at Severus, "until a time when more evidence can be presented, you may reclaim your freedom. This depends on the following conditions: that you pay a fine for your infractions against Hogwarts School. That you remain in this country. That you shall offer you wand up for inspection whenever an authority judges it required. That you take no other post that that of teacher. And–" he rolled up his parchments, "–that no magic considered dark or threatening should ever be produced by you again."
Harry stood, interrupting Akingbode's impatient shuffle to get home in time for dinner. "I wish to ask the court for an exemption," he said quickly. "Mr Snape cannot live comfortably without his remedy – if at all."
Severus shot him a look that would have made the teenager quiver. But this Harry didn't even blink and continued without faltering. "He has taught his subject for nearly thirty years," he said. "He is more than proficient enough to make the potion without inconvenience or danger to anyone but himself. That is, if he can but access the necessary ingredients."
Too much, Harry, thought Hermione just as Akingbode's face darkened. "Well," he said, "I daresay he will have to brave his chances with St Mungo's just like any other wizard."
"You'll have his blood on your hands." Harry looked as affronted as Severus was mortified. This was a disappointment, but not an unexpected one, and Hermione felt a surge of gratitude towards Cavan.
Akingbode straightened. "We will not," he said. "Being schoolmaster does not give one leave to go around the law. In fact–" he turned to the scrollkeeper, " –make that another clause. Mr Snape shall henceforth be relieved of ordering rights at his workplace."
A quill worked furiously for a moment. Then Akingbode finally gathered his papers beneath one arm. "Is there anything more?" he asked, watching Harry then McFadgen as they both shook their heads. "Then I declare this court adjourned."
"All rise," called a voice from the back.
Hermione's body felt weak as the people around her started to voice their complaints. Beside her, one of few, Ron stood and cheered.
The relief made her lightheaded and it took Ron several attempts to make her stand and leave her seat. In the lift back up, she barely listened as he tried to remind her many a time that she had to come with him to the Burrow to pick up Rose because he had an important match that very weekend and Molly and Arthur were going with him to watch.
It seemed that almost half the population of wizarding Britain had gathered in the atrium. Protests were shouted and eggs and rotten tomatoes thrown – there was even a witch with a trolley there who sold them. But Hermione paid them no heed. Her eyes searched the throng of people restlessly for Severus.
She was afraid they would change their minds. Afraid that her joy, which felt as fragile as a frightened bird, would be crushed just as easily. Afraid that despite the sentence in his favour, they would take him after all and she would never see him again.
But when she finally did, there was such a commotion and she was too small to get through the crowd –too small even to see if he were okay– and then an Auror took hold of his arm and led him away.