2000 reviews! My dear, dear readers, you did it!
I adore you all. Thank you to Camille, thank you to Thea James, and thank you to every single person who reviewed even though they knew they wouldn't get number 2000. Hugs to all of you.
Ok- you guys earned this nice long chapter early. Here it is!
Chapter 48
Hermione lounged in the bath at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, relishing the warmth and the damp. Steam clouded the mirror and hung in the air, and she drew it gratefully into water-starved lungs. The old claw foot tub was made of heavy porcelain and ornate silver, its decadence highlighted by the peeling and faded wallpaper and the one small crack- almost worse than a large one- in the upper right hand corner of the mirror.
As it was the bathroom attached to the bedroom possessed by one Severus Snape during his stays at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the shelf under the mirror was lined with his things, as was the ground by the tub. On the shelf there was shaving cream, a razor, a toothbrush and an almost empty tube of toothpaste next to a simple black comb. Next to her by the tub were two unlabeled bottles, presumably the soap and shampoo he made himself. When Hermione lifted one to sniff, she confirmed her theory. Mint, rosemary, sandalwood, amber, clean. Severus.
As she rubbed the soap over her body the scent filled the air, the scent that had been present in her dreams since she had been a young woman. For her the smell of Severus had always been comfort, safety, trust.
Gods, how had things gone so wrong? How had they hurt each other so deeply? Why did the smell of him make burning tears leak from her eyes?
The hallucinations had been awful, they had shown her every memory full of fear or anger or regret that she possessed, and had then showed her the eventualities she feared with such conviction that in the grip of the potion she hadn't been sure what was memory and what was dream.
When she could retreat into the darkness of her mind she had mulled over the dreams, struggling to make sense of them, to figure out what was the truth. The devious nature of the potion was that it took things that had already happened and changed them just a tweak so that she couldn't be sure what version was the correct one.
Again and again she had seen Severus turning her away, again and again she had seen the Dark Lord killing Harry, killing Severus, killing her parents, again and again she had seen her worst nightmares appear in front of her.
And again and again she had seen herself pushing Severus away.
There, soaking in the bath, she thought about him.
Severus Snape, the mystery it had seemed that she had gotten so close to cracking. At first he had seemed unattainable, and finally she had him in her arms and then he was gone again, as aloof as ever. What was he? Who was he?
The simplest explanation was that Severus Snape was a man who had been hurt too many times.
His father beat him, his mother denied him affection, his school and his teachers had failed him, his peers had bullied him, his first friend and mentor had led him to the Dark Lord's side, where he had been hurt more times than she could imagine. Hurt and hurt and hurt, over and over again, hated by many and loved by none.
Until her.
And Hermione had realized early on that was what made her special to him, that was why there had been times when he had looked at her with such an intense longing in his eyes, a kind of disbelief that she was there and a desperation to keep her. So why had he given her up? Why had he pushed her away?
There were many explanations, explanations she had mulled over every time she had lain down for a moment of rest.
He could have been forced to do it, by the Dark Lord or by Dumbledore. She didn't know enough about the Dark Lord to say if he would be against it, but she could certainly see Dumbledore wanting them apart. But that one was put aside rather quickly- Dumbledore hadn't known about them. Cedric Diggory had, but not Dumbledore. There wouldn't have been time, and Severus would have told her if that was the case.
Then there was the possibility of him simply being tired of the relationship and the amount of work required or the stigma it would bring if it became known. That one was the one that incessantly bothered her, teasing and niggling and scratching at her heart. She was too much work, they were too much work, he didn't actually like or love her. He wasn't attracted to her. He had seen her nearly nude once and had scampered in the opposite direction as fast as humanely possible. This possibility brought all of insecurities to the surface where they could burst like foul smelling bubbles, clouding her mind and judgment.
But that possibility too had problems, mostly that he had kissed her again, that he had seemed plenty attracted to her in the past, that he had told her so many times that he would be there for her as long as she needed him there.
And there was one final possibility. That he had been driven to do it out of whatever emotion her felt for her, out of genuine fear, for a good reason or even a not-good reason that he had convinced himself to believe. Either he felt that she needed someone younger, that she would be in danger attached to him, or that it really was for the best. That he had pushed her away for her own good.
Hermione had gotten to know Severus Snape slowly, over the course of years. She had watched him daily, observed him and his habits, had slowly drawn out stories about his life and his childhood. If there was one thing she knew about him, it was that Severus Snape did not expect to be loved. To be valued. To be fought for.
And when she considered all of these things together, that was when she decided.
She would fight for him.
She had been special before because she had refused to be turned away the things that always scared away other people. She didn't care that he was a Death Eater, she didn't care that he was what most people would consider ugly, she didn't even care that most of the time he was a miserable rude bastard who actively tried to upset other people. She didn't care, she loved him anyway- until he had pushed her away, for whatever reason he had.
When he had pushed, her, she had pushed back. She had tried to stick to her guns, tried to convince him otherwise, and then she had given up. Hermione had refused to keep after him, she had refused to be the pining girl in a hurtful relationship because she valued herself more than that. But she had also given up on him.
Goddamn it, he had hurt her but she loved the bastard anyway. The experience with the potion had told her that as clear as day- her mind and heart were still tied to that man, as much as she had tried to separate them. She had put up all the barriers she could stand in her mind until she was barely herself anymore, and it hadn't worked.
Sometimes she hated the way that her identity as Hermione Granger was so intertwined with Severus Snape. Like a vine on a trellis she had wound around him and grown with him as her support as she rose higher and higher to seek the sun. There were days when she cursed her former dependence on him, cursed the fact that she felt so lost without his presence in her life.
But the past weeks had shown her that she could live without him. She didn't like it, but she could. Hermione Granger could stand on her own. But that didn't mean that she wanted to.
She wanted him.
Are you sure?
I am.
Hermione stared at the edges of the porcelain tub, thinking hard.
He hurt me.
He did. I also hurt him.
He hurt me first.
What would happen if they got back together? Would she be able to forgive him again?
Would he forgive her? There was a world of unfairness and hurt and anger and just plain old fear in that question. Her first, instinctual response was to demand why she should beg his forgiveness- he was the one who had hurt her after all, he was the one who had rebuffed her attempt at reconciliation and he was the one who had broken the rules she had set up to keep them both safe from their feelings. But at the same time, Hermione recognized that Severus was hurting too. He was angry too.
From his point of view, he had finally gotten her to give up on him. The inevitable had occurred- sooner or later everyone in Severus Snape's life gave up on him- Hermione had just taken a bit longer than most. He had successfully pushed her away, and had proven that she was nothing special after all.
And that was where her fear came from- the gut churning realization that she had failed him. He had failed her first, of course, but instead of refusing to let him go, instead of holding onto him with both hands, she had dropped him. It reminded her of a fairytale she only half remembered, one in which a woman had to hold onto a cursed lover no matter what manner of horrible beast he turned into- she had failed in her challenge.
But still, still, she was hurt. Hermione had very quickly realized that there was little that hurt as much as when Severus had pulled her into a soft kiss just to push her away and jeer at her, tell her it was a lie. When she had sent her parents away, that had been painful. When she had killed for the first time and looked at herself and her soul, that had hurt terribly. But in both cases, Severus had been there afterward to make her feel better. Now she had no one but herself, and Hermione had found that she was rather awful at cheering herself up.
Still concentrating hard, Hermione traced patterns in the soap foam on top of the rapidly cooling water. Her brow was knit in frustration, and she was chewing on her lower lip.
What was she to do?
She could continue to be hurt, she could continue to wait for him to come to his senses and beg for forgiveness at her feet. But in the depths of her heart Hermione knew that would never happen, no matter how many times she would imagine the scene played out in her dreams. No, Severus would not do that, even if the war was over and both his masters dead. If she wanted him back, she would have to go to him.
Could she do that? Could she sacrifice her pride in that way? Well, it depended on what she valued more, her pride or her love for him. What did she want more, to be validated and alone or to put herself on the line and maybe get him back and rescue the two of them from the misery that had sunk into both of their lives? If he listened to her, there would be time for him to apologize.
"I'll just have to prove myself to him," she murmured. "I guess that's all I can do." And hopes that he proves himself to me in return.
Hermione was unsurprised when the door to her room – she had left Severus' chambers as soon as she had dressed – opened and Harry's slim shape entered. His brow was furrowed and his green eyes were upset. Inside, Hermione winced- as soon as she had woken up properly she had known that it would only be a matter of time before she would have to have this conversation.
She put her spoon down next to the bowl of soup Molly Weasley had given her, and smiled at her visitor. "Hey, Harry."
He crossed the room to her in quick, jerky motions, sitting on the end of her bed so he could face her. "Just that? A 'hey, Harry?'"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I thought we'd at least get pleasantries out of the way before we got into the serious stuff."
"I thought that you'd tell me before you go hunting down bits of Voldemort," Harry responded snappishly. "Guess we were both wrong." It was in between a mumble and a snarl, full of hurt and frustration.
A sigh left her lips. Hermione shifted in her seat to face Harry more fully, then reached out and took his chin, tilting it so that he was looking at her face and not the floor. "If you had been at the last Order meeting, then you would have known, Harry. Simple as that. There is a reason I had you start coming to these meetings, and it was so you would know what was going on. I have other things to do than fill you in on every little detail when there are meetings that will do that for me-"
"So you don't have time for me anymore?" Harry asked angrily. "Since when has that been the case, Hermione?"
"Don't you dare say that," said Hermione coldly. "My entire life since I was twelve has revolved around you. You want to be treated like an adult, act like one. You're almost sixteen, and you've been through more than most adults. Have I been wrong, going against Dumbledore to make sure you get to the meetings?'
Harry wrested his chin from her grasp to look away. "I didn't know about it," he muttered.
"You live in the same bloody house where the meetings take place!" cried Hermione.
Harry glared at her. "Ron and Ginny and I were in that sitting room on the third floor and we didn't hear everyone coming in. And even if I had, they would have thrown a fit."
"I don't care," Hermione said sharply. "And the only way you wouldn't have heard people coming in with Sirius' mum shouting like a banshee would be if someone warded the room. So I'll be taking care of that."
Harry frowned, leaning forward. "Someone doesn't want me at the meetings?"
Giving him a look that said, isn't that obvious? Hermione nodded slowly. "Take a wild guess," she suggested.
"Dumbledore," Harry said slowly. "But he couldn't have warded it."
"As much as I want to believe that the Order of the Phoenix is capable of independent thought," murmured Hermione, "the truth is that if Dumbledore wants something Dumbledore gets it. And if Dumbledore even hints that he wants a room warded, by Merlin three people will jump up to do it."
Realization lit Harry's face. "Mrs. Weasley," he announced. "She did it."
"Of course," replied Hermione. "She didn't like the idea of you being at the meetings from the beginning, especially since Ron isn't being let in at the same time. Not that she wants Ron there- any of her children for that matter- but she considers you one of her own and she's in perfect agreement with Dumbledore that you shouldn't be there. So, you are going to have to make a concentrated effort to come from now on, okay? Then you'll know about things before they happen. Or at least, you won't be as in the dark."
Harry sighed, flopping back on Hermione's bed. "Fine. Still doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for going off like that and getting yourself hurt."
"I had a very capable and experienced team with me," Hermione said tartly. "Bill, Tonks, Viktor, Cedric-"
"Why couldn't I come?" Harry asked, surging back up to stand and pace Hermione's room. "Cedric? I'm the one connected to Voldemort, I should be helping-"
Hermione wanted to stand and confront him, but her bones still felt like jelly. "You have to be kept safe," she reminded him. "That's the whole point. If you got hurt on a mission like this, then we'd lose our only hope."
"It doesn't feel right," Harry said plaintively, turning to face her. He got down on his knees so that he would be eye level with her. "Hermione, we were supposed to it all together. You, me, Ron. From the beginning. We were supposed to bring him down together, go on adventures together-"
She reached out, taking his head in her hands. "That's not the way the real world works, Harry," she told him sincerely. "Three teenagers can't take down a megalomaniac with an army behind him. We need the help of the Order. We need experienced witches and wizards. We have resources, we need to use them." She sighed, and relented. "It does feel wrong," she admitted. "You're a better leader than I am- I like being the planner, I don't like giving orders. It comes naturally to you."
Harry sighed. "I'd say that I wouldn't have let you get hurt, but I did just that last year."
"I knowingly put myself in harm's way," Hermione said gently, stroking his hair. "You know that, Harry. I knew what would happen- I knew it would hurt, and I knew I could die, and I knew why I was doing it. I did the exactly same thing there, in that cave. Someone had to drink the potion, and I knew that the someone had to be me. Don't blame yourself. Even if you had been there, I would have drunk it."
Harry stood, helping Hermione stand at the same time. He pulled her into a bone crushing hug, and kissed the top of her bushy hair. "I was scared you would die."
In those words, in that hug, Hermione felt so much love. It overwhelmed her for a moment, but then she tried her hardest to hug Harry back just as hard. "I'm here." Inside she was cursing herself, guilt was rising up like vomit in her throat. What if she had died? He had just lost Sirius, he didn't need to lose her too.
"I don't want to feel like I'm losing you," Harry whispered, low enough that Hermione almost didn't catch it. "I don't want to be dragged along by Dumbledore to convince retired teachers to come back to teach while you hunt down Horcruxes without me, I want things to be like they used to be."
What was that time? When they had round faces, when their biggest worries were tests, when they were the best of friends who couldn't be separated? As much as it sickened her, the cynical part of Hermione's mind responded. Harry's face had never been round- his relatives had seen to that. It had only taken until Halloween of their first year for them to encounter the fear of death in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And petty squabbles had defined their friendship- especially her and Ron- from the very beginning.
Hermione squeezed him tighter. "I'm ready for things to change," she said, only a shade louder than Harry himself had been. "I'm ready to live without fear. I want to walk in the sun."
She felt Harry sigh against her, then release her. "Me too," he admitted, looking her in the eye. "But not at the cost of your life. Please, Hermione."
She gave him a wry grin. "I'll do my best, Harry."
"Promise me," he commanded. "I'm serious, Hermione. Promise me that you won't put yourself in unnecessary danger."
Hermione crossed her arms, considering for a moment before giving in. "Fine. I promise I won't put myself in unnecessary danger." A wave of dizziness washed over her, making her reach out an arm to steady herself before sitting down.
Harry ducked down and kissed the top of her head again. "Thanks, Hermione," he said, giving her a quick smile. "I'll stop bugging you."
"You'd better," Hermione said, giving him a mock glare. "Shoo. I'll see you more when I stop getting dizzy when I'm vertical for more than two minutes."
She watched as he left the room, and as soon as the door was shut she rested her head on her hands. He tells me not to put my life in unnecessary danger, but I'm sure that if Dumbledore told him he was a Horcrux right now and the only way to win was his death, he would walk right into it with his head held high. Gods, I hope it doesn't come to that.
Two days later, Hermione was on Hogwarts grounds, slowly making her way up to the Headmaster's office. The sun was out in full force, and yet, there was a chill that felt like it was making its home in her bones. Hermione shivered and wrapped her cardigan around herself. Although she was glad that Severus had told her that it was a weather spell and not Dementors, she hated the idea of the Dark Mark sucking magic from the Death Eaters to power such a thing. Well, at least it hopefully leaves them a bit weaker, thought Hermione.
Once inside the halls of the castle, the chill intensified. Hermione picked up her pace as she walked through the familiar halls, despite the protests from her muscles. While immediately after waking up from the coma she had felt weak and supple, like a rag doll, now she felt like she had been through several of the most ferocious workouts Moody had once put her through. When she reached the rotating staircase, she let it move for her, relieved to take a breather.
With the basket of potions delivered by house elf had also been a short, concise note in Severus' spiky handwriting detailing what each of the potions did and in what order she should take them. One was for muscle pain- which, he had explained, was a result of the body's physical reactions to the hallucinations.
When she reached the office door, Hermione was admitted immediately with an almost absentminded bid to enter. She found Dumbledore sitting at his desk, staring down at a pile of gold chain and a heavy locket.
She padded over to her usual chair and took a seat without taking her eyes from the locket. "That's it, then," she said in a low voice. "Is it a Horcrux?"
Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses. "You tell me."
Hermione reached out a hand to touch it, but only half a centimeter away she stopped. The energy coming from the locket was horrible and dark, something that made a sleepy, curious part of her that had recently been prodded by the Dark Arts books she had been reading prop open an eye. "Yes," she said simply, pulling her hand away. "It is."
"Well then," Dumbledore said, almost happily. "I must congratulate you on a job well done, Hermione. And on such a quick recovery."
"You have Severus to thank for that," Hermione replied, still staring at the locket. "He saved me yet again."
"Interesting." The word sparked a shivery sensation in Hermione that felt like a trickle of cold water running down her spine, a feeling like panic, as if she was changing and someone had barged in on her.
She tore her eyes away from the locket to look at the headmaster directly. "What is interesting?"
His ice blue eyes did not hold gentle curiosity or even off handed observation. Instead, they were calculating and sharp. "You and Severus. I see he has returned to calling you 'Miss Granger' and yet you still call him Severus."
Damn him for being so damn observant. "It makes things easier for him, to be honest," Hermione said, letting some weariness leak into her voice. "Lord Voldemort is constantly rooting about in his head, trying to get information about to help Draco. If reverting to referring to me in the formal helps him keep his head, then I don't mind."
"Then wouldn't it help if you referred to him by 'Professor Snape' instead of 'Severus,' then?" asked Dumbledore. "If this is going to be an issue for him, then we need to insure his safety."
Hermione shrugged, deliberately keeping her expression indifferent. "I don't feel it matters much," she said casually. "Any interaction we have when I'm talking to him directly is going to be in the context of the Order and will therefore be hidden when he goes before the Dark Lord." She nodded at the locket. "Back to business?"
"Of course, my dear girl," said Dumbledore, a note of apology in his voice. "Now. Since you were the one who successfully led the mission and nearly died to recover this piece of soul, I feel that it is only fitting if you are the one to destroy it."
Hermione leaned back, not as stunned as she felt she should be. "Where? And should we use to Sword of Gryffindor?" She leaned forward again. "Should I even be the one to do it? Why not have Harry do it- he'd destroyed a Horcrux once before- this would be helpful for him. It would remind him that things are happening and that he can be a part of this. If we could maybe even do it at an Order meeting, then we could really try to rally the Order members behind him with a feat of strength like this."
As much as it felt wrong to think of her friend in terms of his political capital, in some ways, as soon as Hermione stepped into Dumbledore's office, she stopped being Harry's friend, and even his protector in some ways. Dumbledore would have called it 'acting like Severus,' with the obvious and unspoken implication that it was acting like a Slytherin. This, of course, being despite the fact that she learned how to think like a politician not from Severus but from Dumbledore himself.
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Have Harry destroy the Horcrux in front of the Order. Interesting. We'd have to make sure it would be safe."
"You and I would be standing right by," Hermione pointed out. "And Moody, and Remus, and Kingsley. Tonks too. And- although, no, I suppose we wouldn't want Severus here. We'd want him to be at the Dark Lord's side, watching for a reaction." Part of her heart clenched at that- the danger to her spy would be greater than a normal night.
A hand marked with age rose to stroke Dumbledore's long white beard as he thought. "I feel like I should have thought of having Harry destroy it," he said, almost ruefully. "You're getting too good at this, my dear girl."
Hermione gave him a small smile. "So? You want to have him do it?"
"Talk to him," Dumbledore ordered. "Make sure he wants to do it. If he doesn't, we can destroy it here. If he does, return tonight and we can begin to plan."
"Call an Order meeting for the day after tomorrow anyway," suggested Hermione. "If Harry says no, we can destroy it tomorrow and tell them about it on Friday. I'll talk to Harry right now. You'll take care of Severus?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I would, my dear girl, but I have to go meet with the Ministry. They want my advice on a wide variety of issues, both related and unrelated to the return of Lord Voldemort, and I'm afraid they will keep me all day. Severus needs time to prepare himself, so he must be alerted today. As you are the one with time on your side-" Dumbledore's eyes flickered to the gold chain about her neck- "Hermione, I must ask you to speak to Severus." Was there something in his face then? Was she noticing something, or was she refusing to notice something?
Although his words settled heavily in her belly, Hermione nodded. "Of course, Albus. What time do you want me to be back to plan?"
The Headmaster settled into his chair, stroking his beard in thought. "Eleven?"
Hermione gave him a sharp nod as she stood and shrugged on her light coat. "I'll be here."
It was with great trepidation that Hermione, alone in her room in Safe House Three, pressed her wand to her watch and observed thin letters etch themselves on the rim.
We need to meet. D's orders. Choose the place and time.
When they faded, she released the breath she had been holding. "It's not like he isn't going to answer," she muttered to herself.
Still, in the sixteen and a half minutes until her watch heated gently, Hermione couldn't focus on a word she was reading. The dusty old book was open in her lap, the faded words (was it just red ink or were they written in blood?) held still for once, and even though it was roundaboutly talking about Horcruxes, nothing was sinking in.
SH3. House guests, so when I can get away. I'll alert you.
Hermione frowned. House guests? Severus Snape had house guests? What kind of house guests? Family? That was impossible, he didn't have any family. That left friends, which he was incidentally short on as well, and colleagues.
Death Eaters, she decided. Well. He's being watched. Fuck.
After another half hour of unsuccessful reading, Hermione shoved away the book in disgust and started going through the reports that had stacked up on her desk from almost all of the Order members. Two days wasn't much time, but it was enough that Hermione knew that she would be adding extra time to her days over the weekend to go through them.
Most were simple enough to go through. All employed Order members had to submit workplace reports, detailing any possibly Voldemort or Death Eater related unusual happenings, such as odd promotions or strange deliveries. They reported conversations they overheard, coworkers who might be sympathetic to the Order or to the Dark Lord, and anything else they might have seen or observed that could be of use to the Order. Most of it was useless, but someone had to go through it and look for silvers of information that might be useful. Going through those reports required a detail oriented mind capable of connecting seemingly unrelated incidents and making sense of them.
For example, a man working for a small Wizarding insurance company had reported that one of his colleagues had expressed anti-Mudblood sentiments. A young witch who stocked books at Florish and Blotts had reported the same man buying a book on pureblood etiquette. Another witch had reported him buying black robes of the type most commonly used by Death Eaters- but at a discount robe store. Hermione had asked an accountant to dig into his financials as she looked into his family tree. Voila, Martin Fielding, a wizard from a middle class and uninteresting family with only one good thing to its name: a mostly pure but also mostly boring bloodline. There had been a Black who had married into the family a few centuries ago, but that was the only name of note. Martin's particular branch of the tree, however, contained a sister who had married a Muggleborn. Hermione had passed the information along to Severus, who, while present at Martin's induction ceremony, had gathered blackmail material. Now, Martin himself was an occasional source of information.
Other reports were of members specifically tasked with certain projects, such as Remus with the werewolves and Hagrid with the giants. Last year, there had been constant and horribly boring reports about guarding the prophecy.
She had made her way through a depressingly small portion of the stack of reports waiting her attention when her watch burned again, making her stomach fizz in a combination of worry, excitement, and dread.
On my way.
With deliberate calm, Hermione marked her place in the report, closed it, and set it aside. She was surprised that her hands didn't shake. She flicked her wand at the bed, smoothing the ruffled covers, then commanded the lamp to burn a little brighter in the still rather dim room.
The wards she had set up around the house alerted her the moment Severus stepped through the illusion and landed in the portrait room. She imagined his brief conversation with the walrus-mustached portrait, his long-limbed grace as he entered the sitting room. Despite herself, she jumped when she heard the first creak of the staircase as he began to ascend.
Calm yourself, Hermione, she thought, clenching her hands in her lap. Don't make this odd, for him or for you. With a brutal mental shove, she pushed all her Severus emotions behind a glass barrier in her mind.
There were two sharp raps at the door.
"Come in," Hermione called. Her voice didn't shake, and behind the wall her emotions clamored.
The handle of the door turned and opened, letting light into the room for a split second before the tall form of her Potions Master filled the doorway. Without saying a word to her, he turned and closed the door. The click was loud with the weight of unsaid words and might-have-beens and why-didn't-yous. Hermione swallowed hard.
"Hello," she said softly. "How are you, Severus?"
He regarded her warily. "Let's get down to business, shall we, Miss Granger? I don't have much time."
Hermione sighed, and sat down behind her desk. "Is it so awful of me to wonder how you're doing?"
The dim light was harsh to his face, highlighting the gauntness of his features, the severity of his mouth, the lines around his eyes. When he scowled he became fearsome, nearly grotesque. "Yes, Miss Granger. Unless it has something to do with this war." He sat across from her with easy grace.
"And if it doesn't? If I just care about you and want to make sure you're okay?" Hermione asked, well aware that the tight pain in her chest was showing itself in her eyes. She knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that Severus would be affronted. She stopped him before he could open his mouth. "Forget it. I asked you to come because Dumbledore has decided that Harry is going to destroy the Horcrux at the next Order meeting- which he'll call for this Friday- and we need someone at the Dark Lord's side to see how it affects him."
Severus glared at her, but ignored her first question. "And the only person you have is me."
Hermione shrugged. "You… and Draco, right?"
The spy's back went ramrod straight. "You would risk my godson's life?"
"If it meant saving yours, yes," Hermione answered bluntly, meeting his eyes. "In a heartbeat. Especially since I know that it would be far less dangerous for Malfoy than for you. If you are there and he feels it, he will know that Dumbledore sent you there to observe his reaction. If Draco just happens to have a private audience with him at that moment, he wouldn't suspect a thing. If he even feels it, that is."
His eyes were burning. "He always suspects."
"Then we don't even tell Draco what to look for," Hermione countered, light and fluttery hope beating at her rib cage. "So if he suspicious and he does look in Draco's mind he sees nothing. And then you can look in Draco's mind later and see if you could detect anything he couldn't." She held up a hand when Severus was about to speak. "Don't answer no right away. Think about it for a moment, Severus."
Slowly the back relaxed, and Severus sunk into his chair. "I hate to say it, but I think you're correct." There was silence for a long moment. "It'll be even better if I can convince the Dark Lord to seek out Draco rather than Draco seeking out the Dark Lord, and perfect if I can get someone else to convince the Dark Lord to seek out Draco."
Hermione leaned back in her seat and whistled. "And to think I was proud of my cunning."
He didn't smile at her exactly, but some of the animosity in his face faded. "I am Head of Slytherin house. You are the lovechild of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, well known for being the two houses who have gathered the most renown for their lack of common sense, let alone cunning."
"I was behind Harry destroying the Horcrux in front of the Order," Hermione protested. "That'll be a good show. Excellent for public support."
Severus raised an eyebrow at her. "Have you figured out yet how you're going to explain it to them?" he asked loftily. "Are you just going to say that Harry is destroying a piece of the Dark Lord's soul and spill the beans just like that?"
She was silent for a moment. "Fuck you, Severus," she said finally.
"That didn't go so well, if you remember," he said in a light tone- and instantly his face hardened again. "Forgive me."
The slight hint of joy that had risen in her chest deflated. She gave him a small smile. "There's nothing to forgive. You know, being formal with each other helps no one."
"As I've noticed you've decided by your refusal to give me the respect demanded by a professor," Snape added in a tone of a long annoyed adult. "I'm trying to make it easier for us."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "And I've decided that I miss my closest friend and he probably misses me so even if we can't be lovers, we can still be friends."
Severus eyes narrowed as they met hers. "I don't think so, Hermione."
"Are you saying that you don't miss me, then?" Hermione asked gently. "The parts other than the kissing. The talking and the just being together and the reading and the brewing and the training and just knowing that there was always someone who had your back. And you aren't allowed to lie to me, Severus Snape. You owe me more than that."
He was silent. "I am doing what you wanted from me. That's how I'm paying what I owe." His voice was rough, not its usual mix of smooth and drawling. "What good will it do to admit that I miss you?"
"I let you down, Severus," Hermione said quietly, looking intently at him even as he refused to meet her gaze. "I tried telling you when I woke up-"
"You weren't in your right mind," Severus interrupted. "Don't believe what you saw, Hermione. It was lies made up by the potion to try to make you give in to despair."
Hermione sighed, clenching her fists so hard her fingernails drew blood from her palm. "I don't care if what I saw was false or not. It just made me realize that I deliberately pushed you away-"
"I pushed you away first!"
"And I should have held on tighter!" Hermione cried with just as much intensity. "Jesus Christ, Severus! That's what I was trying to tell you!"
He seemed to sink in on himself, resting his elbows on his knees. "You tried, and I pushed you away again, and that was that. Leave it be, Hermione, please."
"I refuse," Hermione said quietly. "I'll drop it for now, but I'm not letting be forever. Okay?"
"If that's the best I can get out of you," Severus said wearily. "I need to get back. The Dark Lord was heavily displeased by my three day absence and has stuck me with Wormtail as a house guest. He is purportedly there to serve me, but he is also there to report on all my comings and goings and essentially spy on the spy." An unpleasant smile crossed Severus' lips. "Unfortunately, I can't kill him outright but I can do my fucking best to make him as miserable as possible."
The thought of Wormtail in Spinner's End made Hermione's skin crawl. "That's awful," she said, shuddering. "For how long?"
"No time limit was specified but I'm sure it will continue until I'm back in Hogwarts," Severus said, disgust in his voice. "But now, at least, I can make it work in our favor. I'll use Wormtail to plant the idea in the Dark Lord's mind."
Curiosity leapt inside of her. "How?" asked Hermione.
Snape gave her an appraising look. "How would you do it, my aspiring Slytherin?"
How would I do it? She thought for a moment, unconsciously tracing the outline of her lips with her finger, a habit she had picked up from the man in front of her. "If I were you, it would be impossible to believe you just let something slip- you're a spy, you can't do that. You don't get drunk, so you can't let it slip that way. You need Wormtail to be absolutely sure you don't know that he knows the information. You need to plant it."
"How?" prompted Severus.
"Make it so that it doesn't even come from you," Hermione said slowly. "A letter from Draco, perhaps, saying that something's gone right or wrong with the plan, but he doesn't want the Dark Lord to know yet. Wormtail would see the letter and tell the Dark Lord, who would then call Draco in for an audience."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Satisfactory, I suppose. But it depends on Wormtail finding the letter, reading it, and then getting the information to the Dark Lord before Friday night, and the Dark Lord deciding to speak to Draco on Friday night." He stood, collecting his coat from the back of the chair.
"Then how are you going to do it?" Hermione asked, disappointed.
Thin lips stretched in something that was very far from a smile. "I'm going to do something similar, but with the Imperio curse involved. I'll send you a message through the watch when I'm sure of it."
Hermione stood as he shrugged on his coat, going to stand by the door. She reached out, taking the handle. He was waiting for her to open it when she turned, meeting his eyes. "Be safe, please," she whispered.
Finally something real reached his face. "I'll do my best," he murmured.
She opened the door, despite her reluctance to see him go. "Goodnight, Severus."
"Goodnight, Hermione." He gave her a quick nod, then disappeared down the hallway.
Hermione watched his shadow grow longer as he descended the staircase. "At least 'Hermione' is a start," she murmured with a sigh.
And so ends Chapter 48.
Once again, thank you to absolutely everyone who has reviewed with this story from the very beginning. Thanks for sticking with it from the beginning, when my writing wasn't as good as it is now and I and I didn't really know what I was doing. I've been rereading FTOH for the last couple days, and I wince a lot.
So, real life is getting in the way of updates. I've got some bad news. I've been feeling a bit ill for a while now, and I finally went to the doctor about it and he's really concerned. I might have something wrong with my liver or my kidneys, or an autoimmune disorder like Lyme disease. Anyway, I feel crappy and I'm a bit worried that I have something awful. Of course, it could be really bad allergies or my lungs acting up again but we don't know. I got a ton of blood drawn the other day, so I'll find out soon enough. Good wishes would be appreciated though.
And I have real life getting in the way in a good way! I got a sudden opportunity for a week's paid internship in San Francisco! It's a mixed blessing. A great internship with poverty outreach, in a cool city, that is paying for my flight tickets and paying me, is nothing to scoff at. But... I'm a bit worried that what I'll be expected to do is outside of my abilities. I'm on the payroll as a business analyst and I'm an anthropologist. But they seem confident that I can do it. The other sad part is that I'll be away from home for my birthday, which I was really looking forward to spending with my family. But a family friend arranged it for me (without my knowledge tbh) and I can't turn it down.
So, that was my long way of explaining that this update will replace the August 14 update. I don't know when I'll update again- it depends on how much time I have to write. Or, ya know, if y'all reach 3000 reviews (jk... but seriously though). Your excerpt:
The teasing lilt in his voice meant that instead of getting offended, she simply wrinkled her nose at him. "Hush, you."
"That's no way to talk to your professor," Severus said loftily. "I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons for weeks."
So, once again, thank you for all the support and for being an absolutely lovely fanbase (to you artists out there- I never say no to fanart) and for reviewing. So give your author some love. Until next time!