Chapter 30: Strategy

A week. An entire bloody week, and Hermione hadn't heard a word from Severus.

She tried to stay busy, spending the morning with Harry and Ron. She went to Diagon Alley with Ginny, using her last bit of money to buy books before they headed to George's shop. Dinner was also a good distraction, her anxiety chased away by constant chatter.

Unfortunately, none of those things helped her that night. She lay in the darkness, tossing and turning, dwelling on questions that remained unanswered. How was Severus? Was everything all right? Why hadn't he responded to her letters?

3 AM… 4 AM… at last, she fell asleep, though that wasn't much of an escape. Her dreams turned into nightmares, leaving her shaken and exhausted as she headed down to breakfast the next morning.

"Never known you to be a late sleeper," Molly said, though she didn't sound critical. For the past week, she'd been distant but kind, avoiding any mention of their recent conflict.

"Sorry," Hermione mumbled, stifling a yawn as she sat down at the table. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were already working on their breakfast, greeting her with sleepy nods.

"Oh, I almost forgot. There's a letter for you."

"A letter?" Her eyes widened, stomach fluttering for reasons that had nothing to do with hunger.

Molly nodded. "From Professor Snape."

She hesitated, careful not to seem to eager as she broke the seal. Five paragraphs… he'd written her five whole paragraphs…

"Snape? What's he want?"

"Hold on, Ron. I'm reading."

Dear Hermione,

I apologize for not writing sooner. The last week has been hectic, to say the least, not helped by these Ministry fools who behave as if they own the place. They've taken to ordering the rest of us around, keeping us occupied until we're ready to drop from exhaustion.

Since their arrival, I have been interviewed (or I should say interrogated) no less than a dozen times. I've also been tasked with the most ridiculous, utterly nonsensical…

"Hermione?"

"One second," she told Harry.

Do you recall our theory that it had to be a student? Well, there are no students around, yet the incidents haven't stopped. There have been several acts of vandalism, notes left in strategic locations. I won't waste ink on repetition… let's just say they were strikingly similar to messages we've already received.

Before you ask, I should note that Filch is in custody. Meanwhile, Ashwood has yet to be recaptured, leading me to suspect that he's behind at least some of these occurrences.

For now, that is all I can tell you. I'll be sure to let you know when I have more information.

"What did he say?" Ginny asked. "Have they caught whoever it is?"

Hermione shook her head, skimming the final paragraph.

I miss you. Maybe that's a preposterous thing to say considering that it's only been a week, but I do. I hope you are well, and that the Weasleys are behaving themselves. If they're not, I do have a few hexes I'd be happy to pass along.

Love, Severus

"I hate this," she muttered.

"Hate what?"

"This! Whoever these people are, these murderers…"

"Wait," Ron said. "There's more than one?"

"Sev… Professor Snape thinks so. All this stuff they've been doing… it's too much for one person."

"But why haven't they stopped?" Ginny said. "If they were after you, and you're not even there anymore…"

"It's not just me, Gin. It's Professor Snape, too. Remember when he was out of class for a few days?"

"Yeah, Professor McGonagall said he was taking a holiday."

Hermione shook her head. "He was in the Hospital Wing recovering from a snake bite."

"Another snake?" Harry looked horrified.

"Yeah, I'm sure you can imagine how terrible… anyway, he's been targeted as much as I have. The notes, someone spying on him, all the stuff I told you about. It's…"

"Revenge," Harry said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Well," Ginny said. "That explains a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Snape being friendlier, him writing to you…"

Hermione nodded, relieved to have an excuse. "I think he's looking for any help he can get, even if it's just speculation."

"So," Harry said. "What can we do?"

"We? Ginny and I are stuck down here, and you and Ron aren't even involved. I don't see how…"

"Or why," Ron interrupted. "I mean, you and Gin are both safe, right? They can't hurt you if you're not at Hogwarts."

"They tried, Ron. That's the point. They tried, and they're still out there. Besides…"

She couldn't admit that she was worried about Severus, afraid that would reveal too much. Not that she was ashamed of her relationship, but she wasn't ready for them to find out about it either. Ron, Ginny… she was only just beginning to feel comfortable with them again. The last thing she wanted was more conflict.

"Professor Snape's still in danger," Harry said. "We can't just ignore that."

"Why not?"

"Because we owe him, Ron. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him."

Ron shrugged, though he didn't argue the point.

"Anyway," Harry said, "I'm sure there's something we can do."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't think of anything other than showing up at Hogwarts, and I'm sure they'd just kick us out."

"Not if Harry's with us. He's got too much pull with the Ministry."

"I can just imagine what Snape would say about that," Harry said, looking faintly amused. "Using my 'celebrity status' to put myself in the middle of his investigation? I'd never hear the end of it."

Hermione laughed. "Probably not."

For all that they'd shared, Severus and Hermione had never talked about his feelings toward Harry. Of course, she knew how he used to feel, but what about now? All that healing, everything he'd done to let go of the past… could that pave the way for a better relationship?

Either way, she was glad Harry had softened toward him. it made her feel like she had an ally, even if he didn't know it quite yet.

"Okay, let's say we show up there. Even if they let us stay, and I'm not sure they would, what then?"

"I hate to say it," she said, "but there still wouldn't be much we could do. Professor Snape and I spent months trying to figure out who was behind it, and we didn't get anywhere. I only caught Ashwood last fall because…"

"You had the map."

She nodded. "The cloak, too. I really am sorry…"

"Don't worry about it. I know it wasn't your fault."

"Could it be replaced?" Ginny said.

Harry shook his head. "That cloak has been passed down for centuries. There's no way…"

"Not the cloak. The map. Wasn't it created by…"

"My dad and his friends."

"Right, a bunch of school kids. Couldn't have been that hard."

Was Ginny right? Hermione thought about it, recalling everything she knew about the Marauders. Becoming Animagi… well, yes, that would've required some magical ability, but she was sure it had more to do with the connection they'd shared. Was that also true for the Marauder's Map? If so…

"I think we should try it," she said. "Even if it doesn't work…"

"It's better than doing nothing," Harry finished for her.

"Wait," Ron said. "How are we supposed to make a map of Hogwarts if we can't even go there? I remember where some stuff is, but…"

"There are plenty of maps, Ron. Hogwarts, a History has got loads of them, which you'd know if you'd ever bothered to read it."

"Why would I need to read it? You've told me every bloody thing that's in there."

"I have not! I mean yeah, I might have mentioned it once or twice…"

"Once or twice?" Ron chortled. "Yeah, once or twice an hour."

"Oh, please. You're just mad that…"

"Are we going to do this?" Ginny interrupted. "Or are you two just going to bicker all day?"

"We?" Ron said. "I'm sure the three of us can handle…"

"Don't you dare give me that Golden Trio crap. It was my idea, wasn't it?"

"It was," Hermione agreed. "Besides, four sources of magic will be stronger."

Ginny nodded, her expression smug. "It's about time the three of you figured that out."

Severus couldn't remember the last time he'd been so tired, stifling a yawn as he stepped into Minerva's office. She looked equally exhausted, pouring them both a cup of tea as he dropped into the closest chair.

"They're relentless."

She rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."

He'd just sat through another interrogation, answering questions he'd been asked dozens of times. No, he didn't have a vendetta against anyone. Yes, he'd had magical protections on his quarters when he'd been attacked by the snake. No, he didn't recognize the handwriting on any of the notes he'd received. Yes, he did believe this was connected to Voldemort.

That last response was what had brought him here, ready to perform his own interrogation.

"Is he awake?"

"He's always awake, the meddling old coot. He only pretends to be asleep so he can eavesdrop."

The portrait cracked an eye open, peering down his nose at them. "Were you trying to get my attention?" he said pleasantly. "All you had to do was ask."

"We do have some questions," Minerva said.

"Wonderful! What would you like to know?"

"As I'm sure you've heard, there have been troubling incidents around the school."

"Yes," Dumbledore's portrait said, his expression turning grave. "Chaos and destruction, botched potions, murdered students…"

"It's the violence that concerns us," Severus said. "Or more specifically, the nature of that violence. It seems clear that it's connected to…"

"Lord Voldemort?"

Severus nodded. "It began with a lone assailant, or so we believed…"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Ashwood."

"Of course, we've since concluded that it isn't just him. As I told Minerva…"

"Don't bother repeating yourself," she interrupted. "He heard it the first time, I assure you."

The first time? That had been a few weeks ago, the morning that Minerva had caught him coming out of the Room of Requirement. All those other things he'd said… it hadn't even occurred to him that the portrait had been listening.

Well, there was nothing he could do about that now. He ignored his discomfort, focusing on more urgent matters.

"I do believe this is an organized effort," he said. "My guess is a highly skilled Death Eater, one who was close enough to the Dark Lord to learn from his strategies. Their subtlety is particularly noteworthy. The fact that there have been so many incidents and no one has seen a thing? Even the ghosts, the portraits…"

"But who?" Minerva said. "To be that manipulative, that powerful…"

The portrait nodded. "Whomever it is learned well from their master."

"Albus, are you certain…"

"Certain of what, Minerva?"

"Are you sure he's gone?"

Severus felt a chill skitter up his spine, gripping his teacup so hard he was surprised it didn't shatter.

"Lord Voldemort is dead. He's not coming back, I assure you."

"But how do you know? You've never explained…"

"There's nothing to explain," the portrait said. "You already know about the Horcruxes, all of which were destroyed."

"All?" Severus echoed, raising an eyebrow. "How can you prove…"

"I just know."

"Well, Albus," Minerva said sourly. "Thank you for being deliberately unhelpful."

"You're welcome. May I continue my nap now?"

The portrait didn't wait for a response, eyes fluttering closed followed by a soft snore.

Minerva shook her head, sighing heavily. "We should've known better."

"Perhaps, though it was worth a shot."

"What about you, Severus? Do you think it's possible?"

"No," he said firmly. "Albus may be infuriatingly vague, but nothing was more important to him than defeating the Dark Lord. He plotted it out with such precision, sacrificing everything to ensure success. To think he could've missed something as significant as an extra Horcrux…"

"You're right," she said, her expression relieved. "Yes, there must be some other explanation."

"Good evening, Severus."

"Evening," he muttered to Flitwick, passing several doors before he entered his room.

This was not the cozy bedroom he'd shared with Hermione. His room, or his cell to be more accurate, contained nothing but the barest essentials, neighbored on one side by Hagrid and the other by Professor Hooch. A bed, a desk, a single chair in one corner… he even had to share a bathroom with his colleagues, doing his best to shower when everyone else was asleep.

"Parchment?" he said, shedding his robes before he sat down at the desk. He heard a distant shuffle, reaching for his quill as several sheets appeared.

Dear Hermione…

He was too tired to write, so weary he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he found the will to do it, desperate to make some sort of connection.

My current sleeping arrangements leave a lot to be desired. Of course, it only makes sense that all of us should stay in the Room of Requirement, but there are certain things I would've rather not known about my colleagues. Singing loudly in the shower, underpants left on the bathroom floor? Both of those heinous crimes were committed by the same person, mind you, though I'll refrain from telling you who it was.

Complaining was the easy part. Expressing his deepest feelings? That was infinitely harder. He couldn't even begin to explain how miserable he was, nor how badly he longed to see her face, hear her voice…

He wasn't just in love. He was sick with it, something he hadn't fully realized until she'd left on that train. Without her, it was all he could do just to remain functional, feeling as if some vital part of him had been stripped away.

No. He couldn't tell her that. She was worried enough already.

There have been several more incidents, though nothing catastrophic. The Charms classroom was vandalized, along with…

Soon enough, he'd finished the letter, signing it with a flourish. He leaned down to take off his boots, shedding the rest of his clothing before he crawled into bed.

Before her, he'd never had trouble sleeping alone. Now it seemed like torture, nothing beside him but cold, empty space. Fortunately, he had a solution for that, at least temporarily, uncapping a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Sleep. Yes, sleep was what he needed. He closed his eyes as the potion took effect, surrendering to the warm, inviting darkness.

Severus was intimately familiar with that sensation. He'd felt it countless times, a dull, persistent burn underscored by inevitable feelings of dread. Another summons? Naturally, he had no choice but to obey, though of course, he'd have to notify Dumbledore…

No. Dumbledore was dead. He was just a portrait now, tucked safely away in Minerva's office.

Just a dream… yes, that had to be it. The war had long since ended, after all, nothing left of Voldemort except…

Except that fucking burn.

Severus opened his eyes, taking a deep, calming breath as he stared up at the ceiling. He waited for the sensation to fade, still convinced that it was a figment of his imagination. What other explanation could there be?

None, yet the feeling didn't subside. He sat up, shaking his head as he reached for his wand.

"Lumos."

He looked down at his forearm, expecting to see a faint outline. Instead, the crude black lines were fully visible, standing out in sharp relief against his pale skin.