She only hoped she hadn't done wrong in asking what she had--she had meant it. But with both of them seeming to be gifted with salvation, the careful avoidance of romantic entanglement in such a dangerous time was shot to hell. They were lovers now: involved whether they wished it or not. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought that perhaps it would be better to gather her rosebuds while she might, as the saying went. After all, circumstances aside, it was a memory she'd carry happily.
The incident had only thrust the reality of death further into her consciousness, though. Voldemort had begun an all-out assault; it seemed, in killing the Weasleys and Dumbledore. And now she and Severus had only just escaped death themselves. Yes, a nice long talk is in store. I'm not going to let him go back to silence and politeness. He said he loves me.
The bell chimed melodically in the depths of the shop as they stepped into Ollivander's. She eyed the shelves of narrow boxes stacked clear to the ceiling, remembering her first trip here ten years ago and the awe she had felt at the idea that she indeed was a witch and about to get a real magic wand, eager to handle as many of them as possible and thrilled to the core when one of them was the perfect fit. Now she was eager to just get moving on back to Hogwarts: she had to restrain herself from looking over her shoulder at intervals.
Ollivander appeared before them. "Severus Snape. My, I haven't seen you in…thirty years now, since you got your first wand. Ebony and Peruvian Vipertail heartstring, ten inches, wasn't it? Mm--powerful wand, but I don't like to deal much in Vipertail heartstring any more. A little too nasty, just like its source. But it's about time for a new wand, indeed."
Snape nodded impatiently, meeting Ollivander's pale stare with his own inscrutable black one. "You've grown a bit," Ollivander mused, smiling a bit at his own understatement, eyeing Snape's six-foot height. Taking hold of his tape measure from the desk, he set it to work measuring Snape all over. She smiled slightly to see him rolling his eyes at it. Ollivander scurried off into the bowels of the storage and returned a few minutes later with a stack of wand boxes, just as the tape measure floated back to the desk lazily after measuring the circumference of Snape's right wrist. "Give it a try," Ollivander urged, pressing a wand into Snape's hand. "Heartstring, of course, and baobab, ten inches."
He calmly tried a simple Wingardium Leviosa on the register book, but nothing happened. Ollivander snatched back the wand and moved immediately onto the next one. "Rowan, perhaps." This one produced a shaky levitation, but Ollivander rejected it with a curt shake of his head.
It was only about ten wands in when the right one was obviously found. The book flew easily into the air, and Ollivander literally clapped his hands in glee. "That's the one, then. Maple and Welsh Red heartstring, twelve inches. Very rare wands, these days: the Ministry won't let me use much Welsh Red, of course. Lucky if they allot me enough to make one a year," he sighed. "Makes for a more powerful wand than Welsh Green, but then you'd know that: it does the same in your potions." He gave Snape a rather cryptic look. "I'm certain you remember what I said about the powers of dragon heartstring wands before."
Then he turned to her, at once all cheer again. "And Hermione Granger. Apple and unicorn tail, eleven inches. A fine wand indeed: wonderful for defense. Let's see." He set the tape measure to work on her as he scampered back into his stores to find the wand for her. "Shall we try unicorn hair again? Spruce, eight inches, eh?" Nothing happened. He tried four or five more unicorn tail hair wands. "Odd…usually the core stays the same throughout the wizard or witch's life," he frowned, when the register book didn't move even the tiniest bit.
She remembered what he had said about unicorn tail hair. Purity of heart, Miss Granger. Unicorns are the noblest creatures. Only those of pure Light can wield such wands to effect. She thought that she had certainly moved away from pure Light in the past few years. But then, perhaps that was somewhat of a good thing: she knew how easily the innocent were slaughtered. "Well, let's try dragon heartstring. Palmetto, fourteen inches. It's wonderful to be able to work with material from all over the world," he said with cheer. "Lends such individual properties."
She could see Severus and Draco getting fidgety as half an hour later, the pile of wands before her was growing, and there was no sign yet of any wand to fit her. Please, work, she thought desperately, grasping hold of the new wand the Ollivander proffered.
He intoned its qualities: "Cedar, phoenix feather, ten inches. Ah, that's one from the American phoenix; Mr. Edison's familiar. He was kind enough to give me two feathers when he was here in London." The Wizard of Menlo Park, she remembered from the History of Magic. Apt name. The energizing surge through her, as though she had just awoken from a good, long night's sleep, assured her that would do. Just to be sure, she levitated the register book with ease. She nodded, smiling in relief. "This is the one."
Ollivander turned next to Draco. "Ah, another unusual wand, as I recall. Augurey feather and blackthorn, nine inches. How has it worked? I've given up on the Augurey in favor of the scarlet phoenix; it's a powerful core, but too temperamental for most."
"Oh, it's working perfectly for me," Draco assured him, presenting the wand. "I won't be in need of a new one for some time."
Ollivander nodded and moved to the ancient register, announcing before long that Severus owed ten Galleons and she eight and twelve Sickles. The money was duly paid, wands thrust hastily up their sleeves, and they turned to leave. "Take care," came Ollivander's quiet voice. "With Albus Dumbledore gone, you will need those wands in days ahead, I foresee."
Moving towards the Leaky Cauldron, they kept mostly to the shadows, hurrying to get outside the wards. The faintest colors of dusk were painting the horizon as Snape grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her back into the alley. She started to protest, but immediately shut her mouth when he gestured slightly towards Lucius Malfoy on the other side of the street, moving towards the Leaky Cauldron at his own brisk pace. "We must hurry," he murmured. "He'll be heading back to the manor now…"
Her desperation was held in check only by the sheer concentration needed to do the advanced magic of Apparating, and especially with a new wand to which she was not used. Still, it was with haste that they went through the Leaky Cauldron a minute after Lucius had gone, making certain they were outside the wards, and Apparating to the clearing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.
Draco pulled his broomstick from his pocket and performed an Engorgio on it to return it to its normal size. She was her falcon self within moments, flying towards Hogwarts at an almost reckless speed, the encroaching sunset at the corner of her eye. They reached Hogwarts just as the sun was flaring a fiery orange and sinking below the horizon. Landing in his quarters, Draco bid them a hasty farewell, using the Floo network to get to his own room.
He gestured her to a chair beside the fire, giving her a weary glance and for a moment looking fully his forty-one years. She sat, hiding a wince at being slightly sore, eyeing him carefully. Obviously ready to talk. "I understand," he said quietly, "if you wish to walk out this room and pretend nothing occurred. You were under the greatest duress, and probably made decisions you would never have made otherwise. Nobody heard us take vows: if you wish it so, it never happened."
She stared at him. Never happened. Never had held him in her arms. Never been overcome with emotion to hear the hesitant but heartfelt things he had murmured in her ear as they made love. Never realized how sensitive and easily wounded he was behind the mask of sarcasm and wit: a man who had never been loved and was afraid of only being used. Never married him with body, heart, and soul. Perhaps it was he that was making promises only under duress, she thought. The man I was with in those dungeons wouldn't be shoving me away like this…
She could feel the tears pricking hotly in her eyes, and thought angrily, Damn him. One night, and he's already got me breaking down. "If you think," she said, controlling her voice with an effort, "that I'm just going to throw over vows taken upon God and my honor, you're not the man I thought…you really don't know me at all. My God--it happened, Severus, you can't just say it never was! It was real. I understand," forcing the words out, "if you want out of this. But I'm not going to let you excuse it by saying it's what I want. If you want to walk away, you look me in the eyes right now and say it meant nothing."
"Hermione, I…that is…"
"Say it, damn you! You've never had a problem hurting people with words before. So will you love me or lose me?" Suddenly she couldn't bear to look at him while he cut her to the quick. She turned to go, trying to hide the tears. There came the careful hand upon her shoulder, and she turned to face him. He gently lifted her chin so that her gaze met his, and she saw a glimmer of something she had never before seen in Severus Snape's eyes. Hope.
"I said I loved you, and I meant it. I thought it was…only honorable, if I loved you, to give you your freedom from what could turn out to be a bad situation." His words were hesitant. The flood of relief within her at it was almost palpable.
"We…we rather lived last night to the fullest because we thought there was nothing beyond that. We're still facing that, Severus, every day we'll wake up, until one side is left standing. So why shouldn't we take the same attitude for what time we have, whether it shall be a week or a century? Carpe diem."
"Fortune favors the bold," he said with a slight, almost boyish smile. "But why?"
"Why does fortune favor the bold?" she asked, confused.
"No, why do you love me?" He cleared his throat. "I'm not naïve enough to think a state of war will change how I am seen here at Hogwarts and in the rest of the magical world. Rita Skeeter would indeed love this for her scandal-rag. You risk much here: I haven't much further to fall in repute, but you surely do."
"Do you think I have time to worry about reputation when my very bloody life is on the line?" She looked at him again. "Because you don't think I'm a boring bookworm. You've been willing to teach me so much. You thought enough of me to do so, but somehow you never made me feel inferior. You understand me without my need to explain or defend myself. Because I know I'm privileged enough to be one of the few you trust enough to let behind the mask. I can trust you without reserve. You've got your courage, your honor, and your wit. I still don't like some things you do, but…I love you because you're yourself." She shrugged helplessly. "I can't say more than that."
"I think that says it well," he murmured faintly, taking hold of her hands in his. Just then Tosca came bursting in the window.
Like a worried mother hen, she immediately began scolding, feathers fluffed up in ire. You two stupid humans…bloody buggering everything up! Worried sick all night, I was. Crookshanks and I finally managed to get Draco after you, but what the… She stopped short, seeing the two of them standing there. Well, she said smugly. Good to see you finally got some priorities straight, Severus.
She saw another sight she'd never have believed: a dull crimson coloring those high cheekbones. "Be gone with you, Tosca," he said, the gentleness from his tone evaporating back into its usual commanding tone. "We're fine, as you can see." Tosca would have been smirking, Hermione was sure, had she possessed lips. "Tosca," he said in that dangerous near-purr that always indicated a coming threat, "if you don't stop chortling over it, I swear I'll turn you into a human and leave you like that."
Apparently being trapped as one of the overly sentimental, ungainly, flightless beasts she always joked about was enough of a threat to curb the merry gyrfalcon. She glowered at him with large dark eyes, and hopped to the windowsill. She looked over her shoulder with one last repartee. You've maybe mated, then? If you have a chick, will it be a falcon Animagus? she said hopefully. May not be a total loss in that case.
The blush deepened. "Tosca!" he positively growled. She hopped off the windowsill and flew off. "Annoying piece of work," he grumbled.
"You know you're fond of her."
"I think I liked her better when she just carried my letters and I didn't have to put up with the jibes," he muttered. "Still," he relented a bit, "she is quite the wit." He avoided her eyes for a moment. "We do have to consider," he said, obviously a bit awkward with what he was trying to say, "that last night…well…there is the possibility. After all, we couldn't use anything to prevent it." Without their wands or a potion, it was true that there had been nothing to prevent her becoming pregnant. But then again, they hadn't thought they'd live to have it be an issue.
"If it happened, we will deal with it." She wasn't sure she was ready for children, and bringing a new life into a world such as this was perhaps not the wisest of decisions. But if it was to be, it was. "Might as well test so that we know," she suggested, a little nervous.
"Erm…how?"
"Didn't they teach you? Never mind, it was fifth year when we had…ah…education on the matter. Different sessions for boys and girls." Harry and Ron had joked about the boys' session consisting mainly of being told curtly, "Don't," and learning various euphemisms.
"Oh, that. Ah…not in my day. I believe they started it about five years after I left."
"Well, there's a…a Charm you can do. Madame Pomfrey taught us about that sort of thing…" She cleared her throat. "I can't do it on myself, so I suppose I leave it to you."
"The incantation?" He withdrew his wand from his sleeve.
"Gravidas Apparicio," she replied. He murmured the words, and she felt a bit of almost tickling warmth in her lower belly. "Ah…what color do you see?" Pink would be a girl, blue a boy, and white would mean they were in the clear.
"White, it seems."
She nodded in relief. "No worries, then."
There came a furious pounding on the door, and he strode across the room after giving her a relieved look. Minerva stood there, looking extremely agitated. "What happened?" she demanded.
They exchanged a look. "You may want to sit," Severus said politely. "It's a rather long story."