"You shouldn't be here."
"Are you serious?" Hermione stared at Severus, eyes wide. "You were almost murdered!"
"I'm aware of that," he said, glancing down at the bandage on his chest. "Nonetheless, we must be discreet. I promised Minerva…"
"Minerva?!"
"She caught me the other morning as I was coming out of the Room of Requirement."
"But we weren't… we didn't do anything! Did you tell her that?"
"Yes," he said, "though that doesn't change the fact that I violated certain… standards."
"So she knows?"
He inclined his head. "She knows."
"What did she say? Did she sack you, or…"
"I'm allowed to stay under the condition that we act with the utmost discretion. Keeping vigil at my bedside? That hardly qualifies as discreet."
"Fine, then let her expel me," Hermione said, jaw stubbornly set as she pulled up a chair. "I'm staying right here."
"Expulsion would imply the opposite."
She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."
Under the circumstances, it was a silly thing to quibble about. Hermione had cast a Muffliato to protect their privacy, and besides, the Hospital Wing was deserted. Even Madam Pomfrey had stepped out, telling Hermione to keep an eye on her patient while she went to the Great Hall for dinner.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better," Severus said. "I think my healing process has been accelerated by sheer hatred."
"Snakes?"
"What else?"
"A Slytherin who hates snakes."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you blame me?"
"Not at all," she said. "Personally, I think you should start a petition."
"A petition? For what?"
"To change the Slytherin emblem."
"Don't think I haven't thought about it," he said, looking faintly amused. "I never liked the bloody things, even before I was repeatedly assaulted by them."
"What would you replace them with?"
"I'm not sure. A raven, perhaps, though I suppose that's already taken."
"I like ravens better than my house mascot, too."
He smirked. "Perhaps you should start a petition of your own."
"Or switch houses," she said. "I'd make a good Ravenclaw… or at least, the Sorting Hat thought so."
"It gave you a choice?"
She nodded. "Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."
"Mine was Ravenclaw or Slytherin."
"So why didn't you…"
"Why didn't you?"
She shrugged. "As much as I cared about learning, I didn't want that to be the only thing I was known for. I don't know… I guess I thought that choosing a different house would help me stand out in other ways."
"The same was true for me," he said, "though family influence was also a factor."
"Have you ever imagined what your life would've been like? You know, if you'd…"
"Chosen differently?"
"Yeah."
"Not since the end of the war, though before that…" He hesitated, sighing heavily. "Yes, it was something I dwelled on, sometimes to an unhealthy degree. If I hadn't demanded the Hat put me into Slytherin, if I hadn't made the friends that I did…"
"You wouldn't have lost her?"
Hermione cringed, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. His love for Lily had obviously been a closely guarded secret, one she'd done her best to avoid.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"
"Yes," he interrupted, "though in the end, I can't blame Slytherin. I chose my own path, one I would most likely have followed no matter which house I was in."
"Why? I mean, why were you so determined to join…"
Severus froze, his eyes fixed on something behind her. Something or someone… she whipped her head around, resisting the urge to panic as she saw Minerva striding in their direction.
"Cancel it."
"What?"
"Cancel the Muffliato," he said. "I don't have my wand."
Hermione did as he asked, doing her best to appear nonchalant.
"Hi, Professor McGonagall."
"Miss Granger," she said, nodding stiffly. "Severus, how are you feeling?"
"Anxious to return to my duties."
She shook her head. "Poppy wants to keep you for another day or two."
"That's not necessary."
He did have a point. This wasn't like last time, those long weeks at St. Mungo's when he'd barely been able to move, speak, or even eat on his own. It had only been three days and he had no trouble going back and forth to the bathroom, empty platters on the bedside table proving that he had a healthy appetite as well.
Beyond that, he looked good. He'd lost the sickly pallor Hermione had seen on that first night, his eyes bright and alert.
"Necessary or not," Minerva said, "your classes are already covered for the rest of the week. I encourage you to get some rest."
"Who's covering my classes?"
"A girl who should really be studying right now."
"You?"
Hermione nodded, amused by his obvious surprise.
"None of the staff could do it," Minerva said. "There wasn't time to call in a relief teacher, and I despise the subject. Miss Granger seemed like an adequate choice."
"Well, yes, I suppose she would be."
"You can thank her later, Severus. For now, we have more important matters to discuss."
"Such as?"
"Your personal safety. Well, yours and Miss Granger's. You've both been targeted, which leads me to believe…"
"How was she targeted?" Severus asked, turning his attention to Hermione. "What happened?"
"Just a note. Nothing like what happened to you."
"What did it say?"
Hermione wished she didn't have to tell him. He was already on edge, frustrated to find himself stuck in the Hospital Wing. Still, better to tell the truth than to hide it, no matter what his reaction might be. Now more than ever, they needed to be prepared.
"It said, 'The worst is yet to come.'"
"Charming," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And was this before or after I nearly died on my sitting room floor?"
"Before, I think, but it doesn't matter. They're not going to stop."
"Obviously."
"That leaves us two options," Minerva said. "Either the two of you can leave before term ends…"
"No," Severus and Hermione said in unison.
Minerva sighed, giving her head a little shake. "If you'll let me finish…"
"I don't see the point," Severus said. "My intention is to eliminate this threat, not run from it."
Hermione nodded. "Mine too."
"There's no reason we both have to stay. I'm sure the staff and I can handle…"
"He's right," Minerva said. "You've already advanced well beyond seventh year classes, and I can arrange for you to take your N.E. over the summer. Perhaps it would be safer…"
"I don't care about my N.E. ," she interrupted. "Well, I do, but…"
"Minerva?" Severus said.
"Yes?"
"You mentioned two options. What's the other one?"
"If you insist on staying…"
"We do."
"Yes, Miss Granger," Minerva said, clearly exasperated. "Thank you for stating the obvious. As I was saying… we'll have no choice but to take extra precautions. I believe both of you will be safe enough in daylight hours, especially if you avoid places where you might find yourselves alone. After curfew…"
"She'll remain in the Room of Requirement," Severus said. "9 PM to 6 AM, without exception."
"Yes, Severus, and so will you."
"Pardon?" He stared at her, clearly taken aback.
"A venomous snake was let loose in your quarters. Do you really think it's safe to sleep there?"
"Well, obviously not, but…"
"Precisely," Minerva said. "As much as this offends my… sense of propriety, I'm afraid we have no other option. Safety must come first."
Severus nodded. "And the other students?"
"Unlike you two, they're not direct targets… or at least, I don't believe so. Nonetheless, I've grouped each house into two dormitories, one for boys and one for girls. Two staff members will be present at all times, which will allow them to sleep in shifts."
"And what am I supposed to do? Remain in hiding until the threat is gone?"
"Severus, there isn't much any of us can do. We still don't know…"
"I could be watching over the students. I could be patrolling the halls. I could scour the school every hour on the hour, bolstering our defenses, making sure…"
"You could also get yourself killed."
"Not if I'm on my guard. What happened with the snake…"
"Yourself or someone else," Minerva interrupted. "Remember that you're a direct target… your presence, and Miss Granger's for that matter, could easily do more harm than good."
"She's right," Hermione said. "The attack on the Gryffindor dormitory only happened because they were looking for me."
Severus still looked frustrated, though he didn't respond. He leaned back against his pillows, sighing heavily as he folded his arms over his chest.
"The Room of Requirement," Minerva said. "Of course, I do have certain conditions while the two of you are staying there."
"Conditions?" Hermione frowned.
"Separate beds, Miss Granger. Preferably separate rooms. That space can accommodate itself to suit any purpose, so I expect you to use it appropriately. I will not tolerate any behavior that would be considered the least bit improper."
"Understood," Severus said, his expression nonchalant.
Hermione blushed, unable to formulate a response. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey chose that exact moment to return, putting an end to the awkward silence.
"Good evening, Minerva. How's my patient?"
"Sick of being stuck in this bed."
Madam Pomfrey made a tutting sound, inspecting one of his bandages. "One more day, Severus. I'm sure you can manage that."
"Miss Granger?"
"Yeah?" she said, turning her attention to Minerva.
"It's getting close to curfew. Come, I'll escort you upstairs."
"Does she really expect us to sleep in separate rooms?"
"Of course not," Severus said, arranging his clothes in the empty space that had appeared in the closet. "She just wanted to make it seem like she does."
"To whom? We were the only ones there."
"To herself."
"I just can't believe she's actually letting us…"
He shrugged. "What choice did she have?"
"She could've made us leave."
"And rid herself of her most powerful ally?" He shook his head. "Only a fool would've done that."
"Yeah," Hermione said. "I guess you're right."
Restrictions aside, Severus couldn't have been more pleased with Minerva's decision. He'd only been here a few hours, yet he'd never felt more at home. His clothing hanging next to Hermione's. Her papers and his books scattered across the desk. Even the bathroom had become a shared space, his sparse toiletries lost among her lotions and shampoos.
Their lives were truly entwined now, a feeling that only deepened as the days passed. His routine merged seamlessly with hers, starting after dinner when he escorted her upstairs. She'd spend a couple hours studying. He'd read, grade essays, or catch up on correspondence. Eventually, she'd put her books away, changing into her nightgown before she joined him in bed.
That was his favorite part of the evening, even if it was too soon for certain activities. Just kissing her, holding her, talking quietly in the darkness…
Indeed, he'd never been more content.
"How long have you been staying here?" she asked him one night. "Two weeks?"
"Nearly three."
"That long?" she said. "Wow."
"Getting tired of me already?"
She smiled, her lips brushing his cheek. "Never."
"Then why do you ask?"
"I was just thinking… nothing's happened, has it?"
He shook his head. "Not since the snake."
Hogwarts had indeed been calm, no drama to speak of other than a pair of fifth years who'd been caught dueling in the Transfiguration classroom. Still, Severus knew better than to let his guard down. The assailant was still out there, no doubt using this time to plot their next attack.
Assailant… or assailants. He couldn't shake the feeling that multiple people were involved, motivated by a lingering allegiance to Voldemort. The snake had only deepened that suspicion, as sadistic as it was familiar.
"You're worried, aren't you?"
"Yes," he said, realizing there was no point in lying.
"I am, too."
As much as he wanted to reassure her, he had no answers to give. Until he had more evidence, some clue that would lead him in the right direction…
"Don't worry. No one can stay hidden forever."
"I know," she said, turning on her side so they were lying face to face. She pressed her lips to his, obviously as eager for a distraction as he was.
Distraction indeed. As the weeks passed, he'd found it increasingly difficult to restrain himself, driven half mad by her warmth, her softness, that glimpse of bare breast he'd seen when he'd awoken that morning. She'd been sound asleep, oblivious to his torment…
Of course, she wasn't sleeping now, her kisses slow and deep as she draped a leg over his thigh. Her hips were flush against his, fingernails trailing up and down his back…
"Severus?" she whispered against his mouth.
"Hmmm?"
"I want to… try something."
Whatever it was, he was more than willing, as long as it didn't involve her leaving this bed.
"Tell me."
"You'll find out," she murmured. "But first, you'll have to take off your clothes."
He nodded, heart thrumming with anticipation as he removed his shirt, his trousers, tossing them aside like so much rubbish. His underpants…
"Those, too."
Oh yes, he was certainly willing, shedding his last bit of clothing before he lay back down. He held his breath as she straddled him, kissing his neck, his shoulder, lips igniting tiny fires across his chest before she moved down to his stomach.
Suddenly, he knew what she wanted to try. He lifted his hips in encouragement, unable to suppress a whimper as her fingers closed around his erection.
She paused, looking at him uncertainly. "I've never…"
"I don't care."
Her mouth. Her hot, soft, utterly perfect mouth… he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he buried his hands in her hair.
No, she didn't know what she was doing, though that was irrelevant. Her halting, tentative rhythm was all he needed, taking him higher and higher until he couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled her up to him, kissing her fiercely, reaching down to finish what she'd started.
It didn't take long. Just a handful of strokes and he gasped into her mouth, pleasure flooding through him until at last, he lay spent.
"Did you like that?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"
"Good," she said. "I've been feeling kind of bad about… you know."
"You're still recovering. Obviously, I wouldn't expect you to…"
"It's not the recovery."
"No?"
She shook her head. "The paper said 1-2 weeks. It's been almost a month."
He'd forgotten about that, frowning as he put the pieces together. Weeks in the same bed… night after night when they could've had sex, yet she'd chosen not to. Why? He hesitated, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
"You're not required to do anything you don't want to do," he said. "I would've thought that was clear."
"Oh, no, I want to. I'm just…"
"Just what?" he prompted.
"Scared."
"Scared?"
She nodded, brown eyes wide and vulnerable. "I don't want it to happen again."
Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? After everything she'd been through, those long, miserable weeks of illness and discomfort and ever present fear…
"It won't," he said. "Not with me."
"But how can you be sure? We can't even trust potions, not to mention…"
"Hand me my coat."
She did as instructed, watching with interest as he pulled the tiny box out of his pocket. He handed it over, grabbing her wand from the bedside table and placing it beside her.
"What's this?"
"Open it," he said.
She tried at least a dozen times, murmuring common spells along with a few that were much more obscure. Still, it remained shut, falling into her lap as she grunted in frustration.
"It won't open."
"Of course it won't. You don't know the spell."
"I have memorized every single Unlocking Charm…"
"You don't know the spell," he interrupted, "because I've never shared it with anyone. I invented it myself."
"Really?" Her expression shifted, irritation giving way to intense curiosity.
He nodded. "I can teach it to you if you'd like."
"Now?"
"If you wish."
She sat up straighter, her expression eager as she picked up her wand.
"Put that down. You don't need it."
"Right," she said, placing it back on the table. "So what's the incantation?"
"There isn't one."
"No incantation? Then how…"
"You have to visualize what's inside," he said. "Well, one object in particular."
"What's the object?"
"A Muggle thumbtack," he said. "The kind with the round, flat head."
She closed her eyes. "What color?"
"Silver tip. The head is blue, the approximate shade of a robin's egg. Can you see it?"
"Yes."
"Good," he said. "Now open your eyes."
She did as instructed, gasping as she spotted the box. The lid had swung open, revealing several rows of tiny vials.
"The snake… that's how you…"
He nodded. "I knew better than to brew more potions at Hogwarts, so I did it at home over Easter break. I've kept them with me ever since."
"In an impenetrable box."
"Well, as close to that as I can get. There are three other spells, two of which you managed to guess."
"What was the third?"
"A permission spell tailored specifically to you. If you'd been anyone else…"
"Picturing the thumbtack wouldn't have worked?"
"Precisely."
"So what are the potions? I see Blood Replenisher and Dreamless Sleep, and I think this is some sort of curse removal."
"It is. I'm out of antivenin, I'm afraid, though I still have a decent supply of pain relief potion and several healing tonics for various ailments."
"What about Polyjuice?" she said. "Veritaserum?"
He shook his head. "Neither of those could be brewed over a weekend."
"Right."
She examined the other potions, coming to the final row. Six full vials of Contraceptive Potion… rather presumptuous of him, really, though it was good to be prepared.
"So it's safe for us to…"
He nodded. "Whenever you're ready."
Living with Hermione was easy. Treating her like a student? That was far more difficult. In private, she was his companion, lover, confidant… he couldn't imagine her as anything else, nor did he particularly want to.
"Professor Snape?"
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"How many sprigs of vervain did you say?"
Even proper titles felt odd, like conversing in some foreign language they barely knew. He disliked the formality, the stiffness…
Still, they had to say them. It was crucial to keep up appearances, at least in public, avoiding an intimacy that had become second nature.
"Three sprigs, four clockwise stirs… yes, Miss Granger, that's correct."
As usual, she produced a flawless potion, giving him a smug look as she deposited it on his desk. Of course, he'd have to tease her about that later. Poking fun at her ego had become one of his favorite pastimes.
"10 more minutes for the rest of you. I expect you to…"
"He's dead! Bloody hell, he's dead!"
The scream came from the floor above, muffled and faint, though Severus could still make out the words. They all could, color draining from the students' faces as they whispered frantically among themselves.
"Silence!" he snapped, straining to hear what was happening. He headed for the door, only to stop as Minerva's Patronus burst into the room. The echo of her voice was strained and shaken, making it clear that this was no false alarm.
"Great Hall," he said tersely. "You, all of you… come with me."
"Who found them?"
"I did," Flitwick said, clearly on the verge of tears. "Argus didn't respond to my knock, so I decided to leave him a note. I opened the door, and…"
The two surviving students had already been released from their shackles, rushed to the Hospital Wing on a pair of conjured stretchers. The third…
Grotesque. That was the only word Severus could think of, swallowing hard as he stared at the boy. He hung with his arms suspended above his head, rotating slowly in the dimly lit room. He'd clearly been whipped or beaten, a large kitchen knife protruding from his chest.
"Where is he? Where's Argus?"
Minerva shook her head, eyes still fixed on the gruesome scene. "Rolanda's gone to find him. He was seen on the fifth floor about an hour ago."
"But why?" Flitwick said. "Why would he do this? I know he's not fond of our students, but he's followed the rules for…"
"Decades," Severus finished for him.
"Are we sure it was Argus?" Pomona said. "Perhaps someone else…"
"It happened in his office." Severus paused, stepping forward to inspect the body more closely. "These are his shackles, and there was no magic involved in this crime. Beaten and stabbed? Only a Muggle…"
"Or a Squib."
"Indeed… unless, of course, he was framed."
"Who would want to frame…"
Flitwick trailed off, all of them turning at the sound of approaching footsteps. Professor Hooch strode toward them with Filch trailing behind her, his wrists bound with magical rope.
"Headmistress!" he shouted. "Tell this harpy to release me! I did nothing, I tell you, nothing!"
"Sit him down," Minerva said.
Retrieving the chair from Filch's office, Severus set it in the hallway. Filch was shoved into it none too gently, muttering a string of profanities as he glared at each of them in turn.
"Dumbledore would've never allowed it. Never!"
"Dumbledore isn't here," Severus said. "Even if he was, he certainly wouldn't condone murder."
"Murder? What are you talking about?"
"Look behind you."
Filch glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening briefly before he shrugged. "Guess I'll have to clean that up, too, though at least he got what he deserved."
"Argus!" Flitwick squeaked.
"Why did you do it?" Minerva said. "For all your blather, you've never harmed a student."
"I didn't do it. Can't say I'm sorry about it, but I didn't do it."
"You're lying," Rolanda said. "Tell us the truth, or…"
"I already told you, you bloody shrew! I've been upstairs the whole morning, cleaning up after those disgusting little…"
"We don't have time for this," Minerva said. "And I don't have the patience for it either. Severus?"
"Yes, Headmistress?"
"Do you have any Veritaserum?"
"I do."
She nodded. "Go get it."
He hurried upstairs, retrieving the vial before he stopped to catch his breath. A bloody murderer?
Granted, Filch had always been unpleasant, though Severus had never held that against him. They'd had an odd sort of kinship, a mutual understanding of what it was like to be feared and hated.
Of course, nasty comments were one thing. Killing a student? That was something else entirely.
"Ah, there you are," Minerva said as he returned. "Go ahead and…"
She didn't need to finish. He'd already uncapped the vial, pouring the contents down Filch's throat. 10 seconds… 20…
"He should be talking."
Filch scowled. "Got nothing to say."
"Does it work on Squibs?" Pomona asked.
"Of course it does!" Severus snapped. "Well, it would if it hadn't been tampered with."
"Tampered with? Severus…"
"There's another way."
Minerva nodded. "Do what you must."
Pulling his wand from his sleeve, Severus pointed it directly between Filch's eyes.
"Legilimens."
Chaos. That was the first word that came to mind. Filch's memories were snarled together like a tangle of vines, one indistinguishable from the next. None of them were complete, mere flashes where images should've been more substantial. Between those flashes were huge gaps, proving that Filch had been Confunded multiple times.
No, not just Confunded. Obliviated. Even if he had committed the murder, there was no trace of it, just brief, peculiar glimpses of him cleaning the floor upstairs.
"No proof," Severus said as he withdrew.
"Of course there's no proof!" Filch retorted. "I already told you I didn't do it!"
"Yes, well, I can't prove that you didn't either."
"What do you mean, Severus?"
He turned to Minerva, explaining what he'd seen. Or hadn't seen, to be more exact. Anyone who would go to such lengths to tamper with someone's mind…
"Whoever it is, they've been using him. He commits various acts, then they erase any trace of what he's done."
"So he didn't…"
"If he did," Severus said, "it wasn't by choice."
"I see," Minerva said, looking as relieved as he felt. "The question is, what do we do about it?"
"A student has been murdered. The Ministry will want answers."
"Not just the Ministry," she said. "His parents. I suppose I should go write the necessary letters."
Until then, Severus hadn't dwelled on the victim's identity. He'd been too focused on Argus, remaining as detached as possible as he'd searched for answers. Now that he'd found them, at least to some degree…
He turned back to the office, his stomach twisting as he studied the boy's face. He'd been a Hufflepuff, quiet and unassuming, not the type to cause any trouble. Average student, but obedient… Severus couldn't think of a single thing he'd ever done wrong.
"Poor boy," Flitwick said. "Who's going to…"
"I'll do it."
"Thank you, Severus."
The others drifted away, leaving him with a task he'd much rather avoid. Unfortunately, his conscience wouldn't let him leave it to his colleagues, none of whom were as well-equipped to handle such a grisly job.
"All right, Mr. Littleton," he said quietly. "Let's get you down."
Hermione didn't know how long she stayed in the Great Hall. It could've been hours or days, the enchanted sky covered by storm clouds that made it impossible to tell day from night. The other students gossiped among themselves, though she couldn't bring herself to participate. Instead, she pretended to read, too anxious for conversation.
"Look, there's Professor Flitwick!"
"Attention!" The little wizard called, doing his best to make himself heard above the din. "Attention, please!"
Gradually, the students quieted down, dozens of heads swiveling in his direction.
"I'm sorry to tell you, but there's been a terrible accident."
"What's happened?"
"Mr. Littleton…" Professor Flitwick hesitated, sniffling loudly. "I'm afraid he's no longer with us."
Hermione frowned, struggling to place the name. The other students were clearly having the same problem, whispering among themselves as they puzzled it out.
"He was a fifth year, I think."
"Pretty sure he was fourth."
"But what's happened to him? Was he…"
"Not now, Miss Weasley. Miss Granger? Please come with me."
She followed Professor Flitwick out of the Great Hall, deciding it was best to remain quiet as they ascended several flights of stairs. As tempted as she was to ask questions, she knew this wasn't the time.
"Here you are, Miss Granger. You'll be safe now."
"Thank you," she said, pacing in front of the wall. Flitwick disappeared around the corner, headed in the direction of Minerva's office.
"Severus?"
He was nowhere in sight, though she did see his clothes. They'd obviously been removed with some haste, strewn haphazardly across the floor.
That alone was enough to concern her. Severus was usually neat to the point of meticulous, using a cleaning charm on his garments before he hung them in the closet.
She moved closer, her nose wrinkling as she smelled a foul, coppery odor. Dried blood… his robes were caked with it, white undershirt splotched with rust colored stains.
"Severus?!"
No response, though she did detect the sound of running water. She didn't even bother to knock, hearing a startled huff as she flung open the bathroom door.
"What are you…"
"Are you hurt?" she interrupted. "What happened?"
"I'm fine."
"But your clothes…"
He met her eyes as she pulled back the curtain, sighing heavily.
"I… took care of the body."
Quietly, she removed her robes, catching him by surprise as she stepped into the shower. She wrapped her arms around his waist, his muscles gradually relaxing as she held him close.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It was… horrific. I don't know how to tell…"
"You don't have to," she said. "Not yet."
His relief was palpable, his eyes drifting closed as she ran a soapy washcloth over his chest. She washed him from head to toe, double checking to make sure there wasn't a speck of blood left on his body.
"Dry off," she told him. "I'll deal with the clothes."
"Thank you."
Wrapping a towel around herself, she grabbed her wand before she headed out to the bedroom. A vanishing spell? Yes, that seemed like the best way to handle it. She couldn't imagine him ever wanting to wear those clothes again.
By the time she'd finished, he was stretched out in bed, his expression melancholy as he stared up at the ceiling. He hadn't bothered to dress, clearly too distracted by what had happened downstairs.
What had happened? She was dying to know, yet she still couldn't bring herself to ask. She lay down next to him instead, resting her head on his shoulder.
"It wasn't going to stop."
"What wasn't?" she said.
"If I'd sent you home… if I'd resigned months ago and found some other occupation… they still would've…"
"You're right," she said. "They already punished Ginny because I wasn't there. There's no telling who else they would've hurt if they hadn't had us to focus on. Anyone they thought we cared about would've been a target, anyone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time…"
"That seems to have been the case with Mr. Littleton," Severus interrupted, his voice grim. "You didn't have any connection with him, did you?"
She shook her head. "I didn't know him at all."
Finally, he told her what happened, describing the awful scene in Filch's office. He told her about Filch himself, memories so fragmented that they hadn't yielded a shred of useful information. Confunded, Obliviated…
"I saw him."
"Pardon?"
"Last fall," she said, "when I was searching with the map. I saw Ashwood in Filch's office. They were both in there, and when they left… oh, that's right. Filch went down to the dungeons."
"The dungeons?" Severus said. "Where?"
"Your storeroom."
"Intriguing. Did you follow him?"
"I tried. Whatever he was doing… I couldn't get there in time."
"Well, that explains it."
"Explains what?" Hermione said, lifting her head to look at him.
"All these months… I've never been able to figure out why your Contraceptive Potion failed. The first, most logical conclusion was Ashwood, of course, but you didn't brew that potion until after he was arrested."
"After you'd replaced your ingredients."
Severus nodded. "Ashwood couldn't have done it. Filch? That's another story."
"But he's a Squib. He couldn't have known how…"
"He didn't have to know how to do anything. All he had to do was follow commands. He couldn't perform magic, perhaps, but he could certainly switch out ingredients, plant messages…"
"Sneak around the castle at all hours of the night without anyone asking questions?"
"Exactly," Severus said. "He also has access to private areas like offices and dormitories, even those with magical protection."
"You mean he can go anywhere?"
"Anywhere but here."
"So your office," she said. "Your private lab. It's obvious that someone overheard us, but… we were alone, Severus. How could it have been him?"
"Perhaps it wasn't. Ashwood in his Animagus form…"
"Yeah, I know, but Ashwood's been gone since before winter break. What about all the other stuff that's happened? Someone knew about the pregnancy, the termination potion…"
Severus shook his head. "That doesn't mean they had to be present."
"What?"
"One of Filch's duties is to confiscate prohibited items. Anything dangerous or capable of violating one's privacy…"
"Something that could eavesdrop?"
"Precisely."
That solved part of the mystery. Most of the incidents could be tracked back to Filch in one way or another, the magic last fall attributed to Ashwood. Granted, the attack on Gryffindor's dormitory was still unclear, but…
"Filch was an unwitting accomplice," Severus said. "He didn't act of his own volition. Whoever is behind this…"
"We still have to find them."
"Not 'we', I'm afraid. You'll be leaving in the morning."