WITCH IN EXILE
by Tailchaser

Disclaimers: The characters from the Harry Potter books belong to J.K. Rowling, and no infringement of copyright is intended. I'm not making any money out of this. The luggage is from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, and the inspiration for this story comes from the very many excellent fanfics out there, Severus/Hermione and quite a few others as well.

Chapter Three: Things are Discussed and Plans are Made.

As soon as the heavy door clicked shut, Snape leaned back against it and shut his eyes, as weariness stole back into his posture. With exhaustion and the aching pains that still lanced throughout his body, his façade crumbled rapidly. The wizard trembled.

One hand twitched violently in the fabric of his robes, detesting the cloth and what it stood for; yet, he needed something to hold on to, something to grasp that wouldn't belie his weakness to the man he had come to see. Though that man, more than anyone, knew and understood what his colleague suffered every time he donned this garb. He alone would appreciate the effort involved in keeping the evidence of this suffering from a student.

Dimly Snape was aware of Dumbledore moving around the desk, and the sound of a spell being cast.

Then a thick, warm cloak burrowed its way around his shoulders, and he gratefully leaned into the welcoming heat and let it wrap itself around his body.

Dumbledore had reached the door where Snape stood. "How bad was it, Severus?" he asked gently.


Another shudder racked the thin frame. "Cruciatus."
"Drink this, then." And he felt a hot cup being pressed into his hands. Appreciatively, he raised his head and looked into the creased brown face, the radiant blue eyes, that were right now clouded with worry for him. He sipped the chocolate. It wouldn't have surprised him, if Dumbledore had slipped something stronger into the cup as well.

Snape sighed wearily. "It's begun, Albus."

The Headmaster nodded slowly. "I know."

A shadow crossed the other's face. "Why do I bother, then, doing…this, if you find out everything anyway?"

"You told me, Severus." A slight smile. "Your face. I knew as soon as you entered the room. But the details must wait until you are up to filling them in for me."

Snape shook his head and began to speak.

Hermione settled herself comfortably into a chair by the fireplace, and watched the flickering of the flames in the grate. Every so often she would glance over at the office door, but there had been no movement --or sound-- since Snape had entered. What to make of him, she thought.

She knew it had to have been something connected to his role as a spy, which she'd been aware of ever since the end of her fourth year, but what? He was in pain, she could see that, and he purposely wouldn't look her straight in the face. There had to be something he was hiding. Perhaps he had just been to a Dark Revel? The thought both thrilled and terrified her, in a solely academic way, but she thrust it firmly from her mind. The idea of someone getting close enough to the dark lord to spirit away all his secrets was a heady one; in such actions lay the hope for their cause and their dreams of winning what battle might occur. But the danger involved made her shudder. She'd been raised on stories of monsters and demons, believing them to be purely imaginative until she'd turned eleven. Then the books had been locked away. She suspected that her parents, like she herself, weren't sure anymore how much of the stories was fiction and how much was real. So the books had vanished, but the stories, and the images they contained, remained locked in Hermione's skull. She had no problem imagining what kind of creatures might do the dark lord's will; hobgoblins, bent and twisted; things with long teeth and curled and vicious claws; things that moaned and wailed in agony while inflicting terrible pain on others.

A delicious shudder of terror went through her body. She'd always loved ghost and demon stories, but academically, she knew the real monsters that served the dark lord were the human ones. And that scared her for real.

There was no vicious thrill about what might happen then, just a sick and twisting pain in the bottom of her stomach. The thought of someone deliberately infiltrating such an organisation was almost too hard to think about. She'd had a hard time accepting Snape as a spy when they'd first found out; Harry, interestingly enough, had taken the information as though he'd known all along, while Ron…was Ron.

But what to make of Snape? If he had been acting as a spy, why did he insist on taking her to Hogwarts? Wouldn't that blow his cover?

Something else nagged at her and it took a moment's thought before she realised what it was. In all the time since she'd first seen him, Snape hadn't once asked what she was doing in Diagon Alley. He had acted like he usually found students camping out alone with all their stuff; he hadn't asked any questions, even when she'd hinted that she wasn't welcome anymore at home.

Idly, she ran a hand through Crookshank's fur. The cat purred, and dug his claws into her knee in blissful contentment.

On the other side of the hearth, the luggage leant back in front of the grate and stretched its hairy little feet out to the warmth.

Severus Snape sighed wearily, and eyed the empty cup before him on the desk before turning his gaze back to Dumbledore. Reliving what he'd seen always left him as drained as enduring it the first time.

"Albus…there's something else you should know. Hermione Granger is outside. I found her in Diagon Alley, sleeping under a tree, and she recognised me…I had to bring her with me…Death Eaters…being watched…if she'd stayed they would have taken her and…"

He sunk his face into his hands. "I didn't want another death on my conscience, Albus."
"I know, Severus. You did the right thing."

A snort, bitter and sad. "That's a first, then. And it can never atone for all the terribly wrong things I've done. I can never--"

"You had no choice." Dumbledore's voice, soft and soothing, was aimed at smoothing over the hurt, but it only had the effect of a hand run across the surface of a lake; though it soothed it for a moment, it couldn't mollify the choppy undercurrents underneath.

These undercurrents floated to a surface in Snape's harsh, humourless laugh. "I killed a man, Albus. Is that alright?"

Dumbledore's eyes were sad and full of sympathy. "Severus-"

"No, please. Save the platitudes. It's too late for him, and they're wasted on me."

"He was an Auror, Severus. He knew the risks. You ended his pain. Surely, that was an act of kindness, not of cruelty? The Ministry says that--"

"Stuff the Ministry!" Snape refused to meet the headmaster's eyes.

"It was still murder. And Lucius knows. Has known for a while, I think. I saw him watching me tonight, laughing at the decision I had to make…But for some reason, he's keeping the information to himself. I don't know what he's got to gain by not telling Voldemort that I'm a spy, but it's bound to be something, or he would have told him and doubtless been well rewarded for his news. Lucius never does anything for a reason; the thought of what that reason might be is far more frightening now than that of Voldemort finding out about me. Sooner or later, he would anyway."

He shut his eyes, as if he could push the world away by refusing to acknowledge it. Dumbledore watched him silently, pain for his friend and worry about the situation etched plainly on his face. But he chose not to comment.

Long ago, he had learnt that Severus Snape refused to let anyone help him bear the burden he had assumed in an attempt to redeem himself for his past sins. Little did he know, that in Dumbledore's eyes he redeemed himself long ago. Perhaps when he first sat in the Headmaster's office, having told him everything he knew, and waiting silently for a verdict. Dumbledore gave him no blame. Though most of the Ministry did, the blame Severus assigned to himself far outweighed that anyone else could give him. His actions tonight would likely bring him an accolade; at the very least, some grudging respect from certain ministry officials. But he knew that Severus would never be able to see it that way.

"To lighter matters, perhaps?" the Headmaster prompted gently; Snape opened his eyes, slowly, as though they were made of lead. "Yes?"

"I want you to go to the Infirmary tonight, Severus, and let Poppy have a look at you. I know, you can brew anything you need to help yourself, but sometimes it's nice to let someone else look after you for a bit, hmmmm?"

"Lighter matters, Headmaster?" He was tired, so very tired.

"Miss Granger."

The look on Snape's face suggested a student was the last thing he wanted to have to think about.

But Dumbledore was still speaking. "I'll move Miss Granger's things to the dungeon myself, I think, while Poppy's checking you over…I believe you have a spare room there, Severus?"

"What!?"

"You don't have a spare room? Oh, no matter then, we'll just have to make one." The Headmaster's blue eyes twinkled merrily, and Snape wondered gloomily through the fog that permeated his brain what possible purpose Dumbledore could have for inflicting such torture upon him.

"Miss Granger is not staying in the dungeons," he murmured through clenched teeth. Albus wore a look of feigned surprise. "Why on earth not, Severus?"
"Because she's a Gryffindor!"

"She can hardly stay in Gryffindor Tower while Minerva's not here, can she?"
"She's a big girl. I'm sure she'd manage," Snape sneered.

"Well, she'd be pretty lonely…and if she's just been kicked out of home, which I think is what you implied, feeling alone at Hogwarts is the last thing she needs. This is her home now. She shouldn't be made to feel lonely here."

And he raised an eyebrow at Snape, an inscrutable expression on his face. The younger wizard realised he'd been out-manoeuvred by something he should have expected, and suddenly felt very tired again. Under a wave of exhaustion, his resolve crumbled, and he knew the Headmaster was aware of this, was probably counting on this. "Very well," he said with poor grace, and Dumbledore beamed as if he'd just given him a candy.

"Wonderful! She can move in with you then. After all, you were responsible for bringing her to Hogwarts…"

The look in Snape's eyes was murderous and just slightly evil. "May I trust then that you'll be responsible for moving all of Miss Granger's…luggage?"

Author's Notes

I never dreamt that so many people would review! This is wonderful. Thank you to everyone who commented! I've tried to keep Sev & Hermi as much in character as possible, but I couldn't resist putting the Luggage in. It just sort of suggested itself, while I was trying to work out how she could manage with a cat carrier, two bags and a trunk. I didn't think it'd work out this well, though.

JadeDragon – Sorry, their paths don't cross in this chapter at all, but there is something about the Dark Revel…

jade – I don't think he'd feel very happy at being "good ol' Snape", but I am very touched about all your incredibly inspiring, wonderful comments! Wow! Just for that I'll make an extra effort to write quickly.

Prettyflower – the strong smell of alcohol was the drunk, but it was just after he checked to see the drunk was still alive -–after coming back from a dark revel, I think Severus would be pretty suspicious of anything that looked like a corpse – that he noticed Hermione. Thanks for your comments! I wonder if Hermione can play soccer? Probably not. It wouldn't be as interesting as reading or studying.

PotionsMastersMistress – I really like the idea of a wizards' ATM! Can I pilfer it sometime?

Autumnmist & Damiana, who both suggested joining WIKTT – I'd love to. However, I've just tried and I keep getting an error message from yahoo, telling me that the site is restricted. Huh? Can you tell me what I do next? J Thank you for the suggestion, and your comments!

daredevil – you're the only reviewer who seems to have picked up that the Luggage isn't really an original character – though I'm changing it/him a bit, the idea still belongs to Terry Pratchett!

Strega Brava – Yes, I think Severus likes the luggage too; it's a kindred spirit in a way –it acts all nasty and sharp, but it does care, deep down.