Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix
Warning! This is not a nice chapter either. I would say it's even more angst-ridden than the previous. I tried to lighten the mood in the previous one by using the twins, but I'm afraid there's no way to lighten this one.
Thank you for the reviews!
Ezmerelda: I don't consider myself incredibly sensitive, but I thought I would still put a warning. I got several comments saying 'gross' for the first chapter of A Taste Of Silence so I decided to warn readers beforehand :) Thank you for the compliment on the battle scene!
Franie: thank you for the compliment and, don't worry, I didn't take the insults you hurled at Voldemort personnally :) Last time I checked, I wasn't called Voldemort!
Lady Penwrath: no, Voldemort isn't dead. I need my villain until the end! As for love conquers all... I'm evil. Yes :) Or else the road is full of bumps :)
"What do you mean, there is no Heir?" Severus yelled at Poppy. "Where is Hermione?"
Poppy shifted nervously and cast a Silencing Charm around them.
"She's asleep. Listen to me, Severus. She's in shock. The spell that You-Know-Who used on her… it killed the baby."
He looked at her without understanding.
"And Hermione is barren. She will never be able to have any other children."
"Then the Heir… will never exist."
Poppy squirmed under his steel gaze.
"Well, it's not true. She… she has the blood of the four Founders in her veins. I think that she is the Heir. I analysed her blood quickly and she indeed has Slytherin blood. Could it come from the Dark Lord?"
"No. He has also Gryffindor blood. The surge of Godric's blood in her veins would have killed her," said Severus absentmindedly. "We will need to resolve this mystery, but later. How will Hermione take the loss of the baby?"
"Severus… there is something else. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn't just kill the baby. He robbed him of his life. Drained him, literally."
For a moment, Severus was too dumbstruck to think. Then, pieces started to put themselves together and he growled furiously.
"I'm a fool. I've played their game all along and dragged Hermione in it."
"Severus?"
"I'm a blasted idiot," he muttered darkly. "She told me, I even told her I knew this and I didn't realise what it meant! I had all the elements in hand and I blinded myself, believing myself more intelligent than them."
"Severus?" Poppy repeated.
"Malfoy. Malfoy is going to pay for this and once I'm done with him, he'll wish he had chosen Azkaban."
Poppy shivered at the gleam of murder that lighted the dark eyes of the Potions Master.
Severus almost collapsed in his quarters. He couldn't believe how easily Lucius and Voldemort had manipulated him. He sighed, relaxing in his chair. It had been one rotten evening. Hermione had been hurt, permanently if he was to believe Voldemort, and he had learnt that the Dark Lord rarely joked on those matters. Several students had been hurt, Callisto was dead and his role as a spy had been discovered.
Then he sat upright in his chair. Pansy! What had happened to the girl after Vincent and Gregory had taken her in the back? He checked the hour quickly; it was far too late to intervene if she was still there – he knew the Death Eaters' techniques and she wouldn't have lasted so long. Hoping against hope, he slid noiselessly in the Slytherin common room and entered the boys' dormitory first. Vincent and Gregory were in their bed, on each side of Draco's empty bed, sleeping peacefully. Severus groaned inwardly and went to the girls' dormitory. Pansy was sleeping in the bed next Millicent's. Everything seemed normal.
He left the Slytherin common room, wondering how and when the Nightmare Team had come back to Hogwarts, but decided that he didn't care that much. It was too late for that. He returned in his rooms, mulling over the list of people he wanted to get revenge on. Jonathon Crabbe was one on the list, for having killed Callisto. Severus still had some difficulties realising that the Arithmancy teacher was dead. She had come to Hogwarts something like ten years before, only one year after her husband's death. He would miss her, he thought mournfully.
Then Lucius would have to suffer. But he wanted to take his time with this one. Maybe take his revenge on Draco too, though he still had hope for the young Slytherin. His reaction when Hermione had taunted him about the price he had asked for let him think that maybe Draco could be saved and redeemed. He hoped he would manage to avoid him the same things he had gone through himself. But not Lucius. Lucius had deliberately led him on about Voldemort wanting Hermione as his bride, insisting on facts that would make Severus's blood boil. Severus's betrayal had been known the very moment he had appeared in front of Voldemort with Hermione pregnant, proving he cared more for Hermione than for his so-called loyalty to the Dark Lord.
Voldemort. He was the last one he had to get revenge on. He hated being manipulated. Voldemort had never cared for the Child of the first prophecy; he only wanted the child with the four bloods so he could steal his powers. Thinking of it, Severus realised that if Hermione hadn't had the Child, then Voldemort would have stolen her life force: true Heir or not, there was still Salazar's blood running in Voldemort's veins and Severus doubted that the prophecy cared for the provenance of the Slytherin blood. So what if Grace was a murderess? Severus's ancestors weren't innocent lambs either. So now Voldemort was the Heir. Or maybe Hermione was, if what Poppy had said was true. He had to ask her in the morning.
Sighing, he rose from his chair, took a vial of Sleeping Draught and went straight into his chambers. He stared longingly at his bed, thinking that he had asked her to come here the previous night, thinking back of the weekend they had shared together. Voldemort's foray in his mind had brought back some images in memory. He sat on his bed, the vial in hand, and wondered if it was all he would ever have, a memory.
He snarled at himself. He was being ridiculous. He was tired and shaken by the events of the last day. The previous night, he had been nervous of what was to come and now, he was upset because he had thought he had lost Hermione. And he had lost Callisto. He changed into his pyjamas, choosing the dark green ones he had worn when she had been there, crawled into bed and gulped the Sleeping Draught. As soon as he closed his eyes, the world was lost to him.
The morning found him at the door of the Hospital Wing. Hermione was in a separated room, since she would probably remain there longer than the others. Compared to the movements there were the previous evening, the infirmary was oddly quiet. Most of the beds were now empty, Poppy having already done her morning check-ups. Severus had arrived just in time to see Megan leave with her hand in Harry's. He rolled his eyes, avoided Poppy – who was only too happy to avoid him in turn – and entered Hermione's room.
She was lying on her side, her back turned to him, and he was incongruously reminded of that weekend in his rooms, just before he had kissed her for the first time. Except that now, the smoothness of her skin was hidden underneath her nightgown. He felt an odd pang of anguish at the thought.
"Rowena?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes," she replied softly.
He could tell she had cried and he found it strange she still had the strength to cry after what she had experienced.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't worry. I always knew it was one-sided."
He frowned. What was she talking about?
"I know my place," she continued with her toneless voice. "I won't bother you."
"Rowena? I–"
"No. I'm Hermione. Rowena's gone. And so is Salazar."
Severus began to feel slightly unnerved.
"Miss Granger, please look at me when you talk to me."
He saw her back tense and he knew his mistake at once. Then he remembered. Terry probably hadn't had the time to take down the spell on her memory. She wasn't herself right now, she just remembered the words he had said to Voldemort the previous night and he knew that those words had hurt her.
"Hermione?" he said softly.
She turned around suddenly, her swollen red eyes glaring fiercely.
"Listen, Professor, Salazar and Rowena are no more roaming free in our minds and the Child is conceived so you don't have any reason to stay near me anymore. Don't think I'm blind. I noticed that your words of tenderness were always for Rowena, never for me, even when the name I wanted to say was yours and not Salazar's. So I'd rather have you go instead of staying out of obligation."
She took a ragged breath and added hurriedly:
"But if it bothers you to call me Hermione when you want to say something kind, then just call me Rowena, I'll understand. As I told you, I know my place."
Realisation dawned on him. She didn't know. She didn't know. Poppy hadn't told her about the Heir. He stepped forward and, unable to help himself, took her face in his hands.
"Hermione, listen to me. It's me speaking, not Salazar. The spell the Dark Lord used…"
Oh Gods, how does one say to a woman that someone killed her unborn child, even if it was the child of a prophecy, even if it was a child she didn't really want?
"Hermione… the Dark Lord took the life of the Child," he said gently.
She didn't register at once what he said, he could see it in her large brown eyes, staring unblinkingly at him. Then, a moan.
"No! No, not him, not all I had left…"
She wrapped her arms around her flat belly, tears spilling down her cheeks. She curled up in a tight ball, sobbing, not even realising when his arms came around her, pulling her in his lap. He held her tightly against him, rocking her in his arms, murmuring soft nonsense in her ear.
She was sleeping again and Severus left her bedside with a frown. He had to find Terry and tell him to be there next to her next time she woke up. He couldn't talk with her rationally when she was missing most of her memories. He closed the door softly behind him and turned around to face a wide-eyed Terry Boot.
"She's sleeping," he said curtly.
"Oh. I see."
"May I ask exactly what memories you took from her?"
"Everything related to Harry, Ron, the Order of the Phoenix and you since the beginning of term. Except when your actions could be qualified as mean," he replied quite uneasily.
"How much do you know?"
Terry raised his hands in the air.
"Nothing! I merely followed her indications and I let her organise her mind the way she wanted. She's the only one to know exactly what's blocked. I just have a summary of it."
Severus and Terry seated side by side, waiting for Hermione to wake up. They watched Poppy fuss over the remaining patients – Padma Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Luna Lovegood. Harry entered with Megan, Ron and Ginny.
"How is Hermione?"
"Asleep," he replied grudgingly.
"What curse did Voldemort use on her?"
"Better wait for Albus to come back. I'm sure she wouldn't want to hear the explanation too often."
"But you know! Tell us!"
"You forget yourself, Mr. Potter. We may have fought side-by-side yesterday, I'm still your teacher and I can still take points from your House or give you detention. Seeing the company you're with now, I doubt that you would appreciate having no free time in the coming month."
Harry glared at him.
"Warn us when you are ready to tell us!" he spat before leaving.
Terry opened wide eyes at Harry's display of anger. Severus forgot quickly about Harry and turned toward the young wizard seated next to him.
"Mr. Boot, I heard your weekend was full of interesting… activities," he said, sounding indifferent.
"Oh! Yes, definitively," Terry replied, nodding vigorously.
He turned his head to look at his teacher and blushed.
"If you can call interesting the fact of having a charm cast on you, making you look like Voldemort!"
To his surprise, Severus chuckled.
"She did that?"
"Yes," muttered Terry resentfully. "The thing is, I'm not Voldemort and when she tried to seduce me, well… she said it was too easy for her. So she cast another charm, on herself, to make her somehow undesirable. Don't know who would use such a charm. Anyway, to make a long story short, even that wasn't enough. Professor Krum himself had some difficulties to restrain himself."
"I noticed yesterday evening," Severus said dryly.
He stood up suddenly and entered again in Hermione's room.
She had rolled on her back and had pushed the sheet down to her waist in her sleep. He looked at her and he froze, suddenly realising something. He had thought she was wearing a Gryffindor-coloured nightgown instead of the usual hospital pyjamas, but seeing the front buttons, he couldn't understand how he could have been mistaken. She was wearing the dark red satin pyjamas he had given her during their weekend. Seeing them flooded his memories with images. He remembered his fingers on the tiny buttons, slowly undoing them, caressing the skin it revealed. He held out his hand and brushed away a strand of hair lazily lying across her neck.
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, puzzlement written all over her face. Then she took a ragged breath.
"It is true. It's not a nightmare."
"Shh, sweet," he murmured, placing his fingers on her lips. "Don't say a thing for the moment. Mr. Boot!"
Terry burst in the room.
"Hermione! You're awake!"
He grimaced at the obvious statement. Hermione's eyes widened.
"Terry? What–"
He came near her and made as if brushing his fingertips against her cheek, except that, once again, he never actually touched her skin. Hermione's lips had the shadow of a timid smile and Severus wondered about those strange caresses between the two of them.
"Hello, my queen," Terry murmured. "It is time."
She nodded and reached for her wand on the nightstand. They both murmured several words under their breath, the tip of their wands pressed against her temple. There was a bronze glow around her brow and then Severus could see in her eyes that she had recovered her memories, simply by the way she was looking at him.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "As for the Cruciatus, I knew I would hurt you less than Voldemort, that's why I insisted on casting it rather than letting him. Bellatrix Lestrange had told Harry in our fifth year that we need to mean it for it to really hurt."
"I'm glad to hear that you didn't mean it then," he said dryly. "Though you're powerful enough to hurt. Don't worry too much, I'm used to Cruciatus."
"What happened?"
Severus looked pointedly at Terry who tried to smile innocently.
"Alright, alright, I'm leaving! Take care, Hermione," he added affectionately, trailing his fingertips over her brow in his odd kind of caress.
Severus smothered his urge of snatching Terry's hand away from Hermione and his eyes followed him closely as the young Ravenclaw made his way to the door.
As soon as the door closed behind Terry, Hermione began to struggle in her bed to sit up. Severus placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to lie back. The satin felt smooth and soft under his fingers, but he couldn't help thinking that her skin was smoother. He gritted his teeth. What was wrong with him?
"Tell me," she said, her voice bringing him back to reality.
"The spell the Dark Lord used–"
"Yes, I know, my son is dead," she interrupted, her face closing and her eyes turning cold.
He was surprised to hear how she spoke of the unborn child. My son. He felt a bit left out; after all, the child was his son also. But she would never believe him if he protested; the mean greasy git had no feeling whatsoever and couldn't be upset by the death of an unborn child when he had seen so many deaths and even participated in some when he was an active Death Eater, could he? Almost unconsciously, he switched back to his usual behaviour, his tone cold and sneering, schooling his features into a hard mask.
"The spell drained him, channelling his power to the Dark Lord."
She started and bit her lower lip, fighting to keep her control and not collapse in front of him, again.
"Does… does it mean we have to… to try again?"
"No, Hermione. The spell went awry. You're barren."
She turned pale as a sheet. Yet, at the same time, she was trying to think objectively about the situation and he could almost hear the wheels of her mind.
"So it means there is no Heir!" she exclaimed softly, her voice raw, but controlled. "There will never be a Heir? How could it be? No, wait! He probably managed to drain his blood as well."
He looked at her, clearly expecting her to explain herself.
"The Dark Lord is the Child of the prophecy," she said quietly.
Severus frowned. He had thought of Voldemort stealing the powers, not the blood itself. By stealing the Heir's powers, the Dark Lord would have had the same magical power but now…
"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted. "But then… the consequences are multiples and quite deadly. I need to think about that on my own."
She nodded, understanding.
"Now, what is it between Mr. Boot and you?"
"Nothing," she replied bitterly. "It's not possible, remember?"
"Then why are you so close to each other?"
"Rowena decided that I needed a sibling, someone from my true House. She thought Terry was just perfect. She told him about me not standing anyone's touch, so he imagined those little gestures of affection that tell me he cares, but without the hurt. He's nice, so don't be too harsh to him."
Poppy entered the room and frowned immediately when seeing Severus.
"Out! She needs rest! I know you, Severus Snape, you will upset her!"
Severus glared at her but went to the door.
"Professor! You'll be happy now, since Salazar's blood will indeed die with you."
He didn't answer and closed the door behind him.
Terry was leaning against the wall near the door when Severus came out.
"Mr. Boot, since you know so much about Miss Granger, may I know how it is she's not wearing the common hospital pyjamas?"
Terry blushed a deep scarlet.
"Ginny brought those last night. She said they were the only ones Hermione would wear for the last two weeks. Never saw them before, she said."
He remained quiet a moment, blushed even more and mumbled:
"I can't believe I'm talking about Hermione's nightclothes with you!"
Severus smirked, both from the comment and the feeling of triumph that Hermione had been wearing the pyjamas he had offered her.
"Mr. Boot, you would be astonished by all the subjects you could discuss with me if I wanted to ask questions."
Before Terry could answer, Poppy came out of the room.
"Miss Granger wants to see you, Mr. Boot," she said, pursing her lips. "She promised you wouldn't stay too long."
Terry nodded and entered Hermione's room.
"I will keep her here at least for one week. I want to make sure there isn't any other repercussion of the spell. And maybe there's a cure to her barrenness."
"No, there isn't. The Dark Lord guaranteed it and we can trust him on that: he knows what he talks about when it's about destruction."
"Did you tell her?" asked Poppy cautiously.
"I think you were a witness to her reaction," he snarled.
Leaving Poppy in shock, he headed toward his chambers, trying to analyse what exactly he was feeling at the idea that his unborn son was dead and that the mother of his son could never have another child. The idea that he, Severus Snape, who would have been a father even though he had decided he would never sire a child, had been robbed of the tiny life in the most gruesome way. He had had two weeks to get used to the idea that Hermione was carrying his child and he had instinctively protected her during the DA sessions; now… there was nothing. He frowned. He hated to feel confused.