Chapter 11: Revelations.
Hermione slammed the book shut, letting out what could only be described as a heartfelt sigh, and sat back in her chair.
From her desk at the door, Madame Pince gave her a stern glare. Hermione returned it with equanimity. The library was virtually deserted on account of it not only being . . . well . . . the library, but this was also the last weekend before the Christmas holidays began, and all third years and above were in Hogsmeade, catching up on shopping. Hermione had chosen her moment carefully for privacy, tucked well away in the restricted section, and did not like the fact that Madame Pince had set up the system of library mirrors so that she could keep an eye on even this secluded spot.
After seven years of dedicated study and good behaviour, Hermione felt she was entitled to a little lassitude, including the slamming of at least one book when necessary, and resented the intrusion. To block it out from her end she lowered her head to the desk and flipped her hair over her head, letting it cascade down onto the polished wood surface.
How had this happened? How had this ever happened? She had been so sure that this could not happen, and yet here she was, in the library, slamming books because it had happened. The more important question was what on Earth was she going to do now, but at the moment she was still hung up on how?
Well, that was a stupid question, she knew how. What she didn't know was how it had gone so wrong.
After that Sunday where she had cried in Severus's arms things had calmed down somewhat, as her emotions had begun to settle into a more stable form. She had still been low on occasions, the disbelief at what happened making her feel cold and hollow inside sometimes late at night, but for the most part it was an upward journey, without too many downward slides to recover from.
The fact that she was working the majority of her walking hours had undoubtedly helped, as did Snape's virtually unquestioning acceptance of any idea she got into her head, even concerning him.
Which was how she had ended up unpacking the boxes kept in what she called the bedroom, and he called the storeroom. It had started when she had needed an antiquated piece of equipment, a whirring hygrometer, that had yet to be unpacked, and was lost in the sea of cardboard.
Due in no uncertain measure to a good dollop of curiosity borrowed from Crookshanks, she had soon stopped looking for the hygrometer and had just started sorting through the boxes. Several days later she was still sorting through the boxes, and because it seemed such a shame to pack Severus's life away once she had uncovered it, she began to transfigure pieces of furniture to fill the room, and place his things on.
It had all begun fairly innocently when she had discovered a collection of polished stones, which turned out to be an assortment of carvings in obsidian, fluorite, jade and nacre in Celtic designs, covered in runes. They had captured her interest and imagination, given that Arithmancy was one of her favourite subjects, and she had asked him about them.
It turned out that they were not magical artefacts, but works of art, created by Severus's sister. He had told her, fairly grudgingly, that his sister had been a Hufflepuff who held no higher ambition in life that to be an artist. The symbols themselves were accurate, but their combinations based more on aesthetics than on meaning, and the designs came from Thaliae Snape's mind and memories rather than a book. He explained that he had come into possession of them as once their parents had discovered this 'unsuitable' aspiration, Thaliae was banned from continuing her artistic pursuits and told to think about a sensible career, or getting married well.
The house elves had been instructed to search Thaliae's possessions when they tidied her room, and when following such direct orders, however much they liked the 'Young Mistress Snape' were obliged to ferret through all her hiding places. Very soon after her OWLs, which of course she passed with high grades, Thaliae began giving her finished works to Severus or destroying them. The house elves had duly ignored the art collection in Severus's room, as they had no orders concerning that, and thus proved that it does pay in life to have friends in low places.
So when Severus had left his home after what had presumably been one hell of an argument (he refused to say for certain), he had taken them with him. This was also how he had a portrait of himself and his sister sitting on a riverbank one summer's day, simply enjoying life, radiant with happiness. The beauty of the piece had taken Hermione's breath away, as it had been painted with such feeling. It had been a deliberate gift to Severus from Thaliae for Severus's eighteenth birthday, and the story behind the painting only made her love it all the more.
Thaliae had been two years older than Severus, and on leaving Hogwarts had taken a job in the Ministry to support her while she pursued her dreams of being an artist, and had refused the virtually arranged marriage into which her parents had tried to push her. From that point on, while Thaliae was not disowned, she was unwelcome at home, and the few occasions she visited were distinctly uncomfortable for all concerned.
However when Severus had reached the age of eighteen, he had received an allowance left to him by his grandfather in his last will and testament. As he had already been receiving an allowance from his parents since the age of seventeen, Severus had instructed Gringotts to transfer the entirety of his annual allowance from his grandfather to Thaliae. While he might have liked the money to keep up with his opulent friends, it meant Thaliae could leave the job she disliked and follow her heart.
The painting had been a record of the day when Severus told her what he had planned to do for her, and under the blazing summer sun, Thaliae had told him that whatever happened in the future, she would never forget his gift, and never turn him away. Looking back, he had said, it was almost like she had had a premonition of what was to come, but then, since his encounter with Lupin in werewolf form in the fifth year, the signs had been there to see. In fact it wasn't long after he left school that he became a fully fledged death eater.
But when Hermione had asked what had happened to Thaliae, Severus had just shaken his head sadly and said that the war had caused a lot of disruption and he had lost touch. He knew that she was alive, and that she had chosen to leave the British Wizarding community for pastures new some time after Voldemort's first downfall. The money was still transferred to her account by Gringotts and withdrawn regularly, which he took as an indication that she was carrying on with her life. Despite her promise of returning the unconditional love and acceptance he had shown her, Severus never felt that he should look up Thaliae. She had always been so peaceful, happy, and enamoured with the beauty she found all around her, that he did not want to bring his darkness into her life. She had been one of the things he forfeited voluntarily as a part of his penance. A penance which he had yet to succeed in completing.
The carvings were not the only echoes of his past Hermione had found - there had been a whole box filled with photographs of Severus and Thaliae growing up. Seemingly part of the disowning process had involved his parents removing every single written or photographic shred of evidence that Severus had ever existed from their house. Rather than leave them to be burned, he had boxed and reduced them and never looked at them again.
Hermione had other ideas however, and had procured several photo albums, beginning to sort the photographs into a time-line of Severus Snape's life. She had discovered a neat little spell in the library that caused a photo to declare the date and location of when it was taken, and by casting 'enarro' on the photos en masse, was able to sort them into a chronological order. She transferred one to each page, and neatly recorded the details of place and date in gold lettering by the side of the photograph.
It was by doing this that she discovered that Severus had visited nearly every European country, as well as Russia, India, and Egypt. He had, however, never visited America, as Hermione had. The summer before she began at Hogwarts her parents had surprised her with a trip to Florida. And although the perkiness and fabricated nature of the theme parks would not normally be her thing, she had loved every minute.
At ten she was just tall enough to get on the rides, and she threw herself whole-heartedly into enjoying the parades of Disney characters and discovering every single one of the tourist traps that were there. She loved everything about that holiday, from the grand displays of fireworks and laser shows (novelties back them) right down to the way the maintenance workers had doors marked 'Cast Only'. But in a strange way it had marked the end of an era, as she suspected her parents had expected it to.
The following September she had departed on the Hogwart's express to a new world, and although the physical journey only took her a few hundred miles north to Hogwarts, it marked the beginning of a journey that would eventually remove her entirely from the world her parents knew. Not that she knew it at the time, but she knew it now.
So it had been with some trepidation that Hermione had asked how Severus's parents had treated him during his childhood. The reason for the visits to all over the world, but not America, was that his parents were (and probably still are, he added wryly) incurable social climbers. In the holidays they toured the world on invites from moneyed friends and distant relatives, attending soirees and cocktail parties and formal balls. They also hosted a good few at the estates they owned in Britain and overseas.
Severus had been expected to behave impeccably at these events - to speak politely and clearly, to act with proper courtesy and decorum and restraint at all time, and to dance perfectly. But beside from the lessons growing up in manners and dancing and proper behaviour, he had basically been left to his own devices, and had had full run of the library. He had been bought a wand at the age of six, illegally of course, and had practised magic from that day on, avoiding the Ministry regulations by dint of the Underage magic regulations only applying to those aged 11-17 still at school. Of course had he been found with a wand, his family would have been in serious trouble. But he wasn't Slytherin for nothing and this simple deceit hardly fazed him at all.
So by the time he came to Hogwarts he was by far the most able first year, and knew enough curses to keep those who thought he was a geek away. Within the first term he was known as the quickest draw in the school, shooting with a double barrelled weapon of cutting sarcasm or highly unpleasant hexes. In the case of Gryffindors he tended to use both, just for good measure.
After hearing this Hermione had decided not to include the stiffly formal family portrait in the album, and tucked it in the back cover instead.
At first she had merely stacked the albums on the floor, but after discovering a tiffany lamp, she had transfigured a wall-dresser in art deco style and arranged the carvings around the lamp, and lined the leather bound albums up, so the years they included were displayed on the spines.
Another notable find among his possessions had been a crystal ball. With definite amusement he had told her that at the end of his second year he had chosen his elective classes without reference to his parents, and they had included Muggle Studies. However when his parents had looked at his book list the following summer they had told him that studying anything about the Muggle way of life was pointless, and forced him to change courses. But by the time he had got in contact with Hogwarts, there were only spaces on the Divination course left.
This had led to an eventful study of the arts of divining the future, which ended when the professor involved had refused to have Severus back for the fourth year on account of his extreme scepticism clouding his inner eye, and Severus had taken up Muggle Studies in his fourth year. Hermione and Severus had both spent quite a while comparing stories of divination horrors, and one particularly amusing story of Severus's about floating tealeaves, enchanted to talk and deliver dire predictions from their cup and saucer had Hermione in stitches.
My mutual consent the crystal ball had been repacked and shoved in a corner, on account of neither of them really wanting to remember their failures at divination. When Hermione confessed that she had given hers to Neville after he broke his by letting it roll down the stairs to the boys' dormitories, Severus took the chance to get it out of his life for good, and donated it to 'the worthy cause that is Longbottom, as recompense for seven years of insults. I hope he enjoys it as much as I enjoyed the insults.' Despite herself, Hermione had laughed.
She supposed that the determination to study the Muggle way of doing things accounted for the collection of vinyl records he owned, along with the record player, which did not work. He told her that at his former home all that had been needed was a simple enchantment on the plug to supply a perpetual source of current to it, and it did not matter that there was no electrical connection. However at Hogwarts, the atmosphere was so charged with magic that the power was drawn right out of the device and dissipated to the nearest spell caster, so the record player had never worked since he had moved here.
Hermione though it was just one more indication of the darkness, actual and metaphorical, that he had found himself in for all these years.
The record player itself had posed no real trouble when she considered the problem long enough, and inspired by memories of Captain Kirk aboard the starship Enterprise, she designed a magical 'force field' that protected the device from the surrounding magic and drew enough in to actually power it, thus killing two birds with one stone. Once it was fully functional the player was moved into the main room, and stood on another piece of Hermione's specially designed furniture along with the records, and needless to say, they derived a good bit of use from it.
Of course not all of the time had been spent sharing histories, or rooting through Severus's belongings, and these moments of sitting together amidst an ever decreasing pile of cardboard, close, but never touching, had formed the much needed breaks in the countless hours of research and calculations that took up most of their time together.
In a little over two months the work had progressed at quite a rate until they had reached a stage where practical testing was necessary. Eventually they had surmised that the curse which had rebounded on Voldemort had not been totally ineffectual against Harry.
What the ancient magic had done was not to render the curse ineffectual, but to establish a connection between man and boy where some spark of life that had been killed in Harry was replaced by a part of Voldemort's energy, a process which had transferred a good few of Voldemort's powers over to Harry. The measures Voldemort had taken to gain immortality had prevented this transfer from resulting in his death, and left some aspect of physical form attached to his spirit; while Harry had received a scar that would not heal because it was not truly a part of him, so would always stand out.
Between them and the texts provided by (unbeknown to either) Dumbledore they worked out the exact nature of the connection that still existed, and had finally succeeded in ascertaining the method Voldemort was using to exploit it. This had been done by endless reams of arithmantic charts and equations, exploring the probability of every scenario; as well as extrapolating the effect each scenario would have on the magical flows within Harry, and comparing this to what Hermione saw.
Now they had an answer to how Harry was being controlled, they were fairly sure they could turn it against Voldemort; all they were lacking was details of his ultimate plan for them all.
In short, they were on a roll.
Yet the past months had not been all self-congratulation either. Servers had been summoned to Voldemort on five occasions, the first just after Hermione's encounter with Malfoy, where due to the calming potion, she had appeared distinctly un-traumatised. Voldemort had not been happy - assuming Severus had done too good a job in helping her regain a balanced outlook on life - and more importantly restored her academic focus.
He had seemed mainly concerned that Harry would be able to check the information Voldemort was filtering into his brain, and Severus left him blissfully unaware of the real danger Hermione's intellect posed to him. Despite Severus's assurances that the truce between them was for show only, that it had been necessary to prevent suspicions being raised, he had been badly tortured. Barely able to walk, he had staggered back to his rooms, where Hermione had been waiting (this time with his permission), and would have collapsed except that he felt fainting into a female student's arms was somehow shameful.
Hermione had done her best to heal him, and soothe him, until he actually fell asleep this time, his head resting in her lap, pride and dignity forgotten in face of the simple comfort she offered.
Another such of these occasions had been after Harry's first 'dark arts' lesson. The lesson itself had followed an unexpected path, with Harry, most likely with a wish-list courtesy of Voldemort had asked Snape to teach him the 'Metus' series of hexes, that caused the victim to see and feel the things that they feared the most. Snape had been wary on account of these spells having little defensive value, and had deliberately mis-taught Harry the spells. Almost immediately after the unproductive evening had ended, Voldemort had summoned Severus to him and demonstrated the proper casting of every single Metus.
The things that Severus had murmured about in his sleep that night still made Hermione's blood run cold. But the reason he had been so distraught that night when he returned was that the some images he had seen had involved Hermione being harmed and killed while he stood helpless by, forced to watch, or even participate. No doubt he felt he had exposed her as even more of a target than she already was, put her in danger, but as she whispered to him once he was asleep, she was glad he cared; that that was the most important thing to her.
That first dark arts lesson was the only one she had observed, invisibly of course. Severus had invited her along to watch him have 'a little fun humiliating Potter', which he had, and then had paid for. She had gone to watch out of curiosity, and truth be told, a malicious desire to see Harry get his comeuppance.
Part of her recovery had centred on shifting the blame for everything that had happened, to her, to Severus, to Harry, to most people around her to Voldemort. Intellectually she knew that Harry didn't deserve her hate, but that changed very little for her. She had forced herself to act as if she had forgiven him, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Voldemort must be working on something that had already been there in Harry's mind, magnifying it out of all proportion. That in some small part the responsibility for his behaviour lay with Harry and Harry alone.
She supposed she would never know the truth.
But she knew that when she sat next to Harry in lessons, or was shut in the same room as him like that lesson, her breathing wanted to quicken. She was always fighting down a panic when she was near him, not that Harry would attack her, but that Harry would not be strong enough to resist Voldemort, and Voldemort would attack her. She took her security from the presence of others, and not from faith in Harry, or his regret.
Hence whilst she blamed Voldemort for raping her, she blamed Harry for being too weak to fight for her, and for covering his tracks so thoroughly. He was still everybody's golden boy - their hero and last hope of their saviour. She blamed him because he fought Voldemort for Dumbledore's stone, for Ginny's diary, for Cedric's proper burial, and won; but for her honour, her sanity, her virginity, he didn't fight hard enough.
And so she went to no more 'lessons', and began to sit Ron between herself and Harry during lessons.
But despite all that had passed, all the water under the bridge, she was back where she had started, alone, lost and scared with no-one to talk to or confide in. All the hours in Severus's company seemed to have become meaningless, now that it had all gone so wrong, once again.
She was saved from a descent into total depression by a hand gently lifting the curtain of hair with which she was shielding herself.
"Pulling another all-nighter? That can't be good for you?" questioned the soft voice she had come to love.
Reluctantly she looked up at him, briefly meeting his eyes, before looking down again at her hands folded on the desk before her. But that brief glimpse was all Severus needed to see something was terribly wrong. The imprints on her forehead said she had been sitting like that for quite a time, and the desperate sorrow and hurt in her eyes was all to clear.
Moving around her he took the seat next to her, so as not to tower over her, and asked in a voice full of concern,
"What's happened? What's wrong? Hermione?"
When no answer was forthcoming, he gently placed a hand under her chin, tilting it up so he was looking at her directly, before adding, "You can tell me anything, you know that don't you?"
A few more moments of forced eye contact, and she opened her mouth uncertainly, appearing to have difficulty finding the words she needed. After swallowing several times she whispered, barely audible,
"I'm pregnant."
TBC
A/N:
Okay, so I guess you saw that coming, but as for what will happen. . .who knows.
Anyway, hope you liked the sweeping plot arc, it would have taken too long to get through that entire plot in direct dialogue. I know it might seem a little of-point, but I think some details will be important later on.
Right details and stuff - Don't know why Hermione needs a whirring hygrometer, as it actually measures wind speed, but it sounds suitably strange to fit the text, so humour me.
In Roman mythology Thaliae was a muse of comedy or light verse, a suitable opposite to everything Severus is.
'Enarro' is the latin verb to narrate a story.
'Metus' literally means fear.
Thank you for all the reviews, you don't know happy they make me . . . Bye - Photis
Hermione slammed the book shut, letting out what could only be described as a heartfelt sigh, and sat back in her chair.
From her desk at the door, Madame Pince gave her a stern glare. Hermione returned it with equanimity. The library was virtually deserted on account of it not only being . . . well . . . the library, but this was also the last weekend before the Christmas holidays began, and all third years and above were in Hogsmeade, catching up on shopping. Hermione had chosen her moment carefully for privacy, tucked well away in the restricted section, and did not like the fact that Madame Pince had set up the system of library mirrors so that she could keep an eye on even this secluded spot.
After seven years of dedicated study and good behaviour, Hermione felt she was entitled to a little lassitude, including the slamming of at least one book when necessary, and resented the intrusion. To block it out from her end she lowered her head to the desk and flipped her hair over her head, letting it cascade down onto the polished wood surface.
How had this happened? How had this ever happened? She had been so sure that this could not happen, and yet here she was, in the library, slamming books because it had happened. The more important question was what on Earth was she going to do now, but at the moment she was still hung up on how?
Well, that was a stupid question, she knew how. What she didn't know was how it had gone so wrong.
After that Sunday where she had cried in Severus's arms things had calmed down somewhat, as her emotions had begun to settle into a more stable form. She had still been low on occasions, the disbelief at what happened making her feel cold and hollow inside sometimes late at night, but for the most part it was an upward journey, without too many downward slides to recover from.
The fact that she was working the majority of her walking hours had undoubtedly helped, as did Snape's virtually unquestioning acceptance of any idea she got into her head, even concerning him.
Which was how she had ended up unpacking the boxes kept in what she called the bedroom, and he called the storeroom. It had started when she had needed an antiquated piece of equipment, a whirring hygrometer, that had yet to be unpacked, and was lost in the sea of cardboard.
Due in no uncertain measure to a good dollop of curiosity borrowed from Crookshanks, she had soon stopped looking for the hygrometer and had just started sorting through the boxes. Several days later she was still sorting through the boxes, and because it seemed such a shame to pack Severus's life away once she had uncovered it, she began to transfigure pieces of furniture to fill the room, and place his things on.
It had all begun fairly innocently when she had discovered a collection of polished stones, which turned out to be an assortment of carvings in obsidian, fluorite, jade and nacre in Celtic designs, covered in runes. They had captured her interest and imagination, given that Arithmancy was one of her favourite subjects, and she had asked him about them.
It turned out that they were not magical artefacts, but works of art, created by Severus's sister. He had told her, fairly grudgingly, that his sister had been a Hufflepuff who held no higher ambition in life that to be an artist. The symbols themselves were accurate, but their combinations based more on aesthetics than on meaning, and the designs came from Thaliae Snape's mind and memories rather than a book. He explained that he had come into possession of them as once their parents had discovered this 'unsuitable' aspiration, Thaliae was banned from continuing her artistic pursuits and told to think about a sensible career, or getting married well.
The house elves had been instructed to search Thaliae's possessions when they tidied her room, and when following such direct orders, however much they liked the 'Young Mistress Snape' were obliged to ferret through all her hiding places. Very soon after her OWLs, which of course she passed with high grades, Thaliae began giving her finished works to Severus or destroying them. The house elves had duly ignored the art collection in Severus's room, as they had no orders concerning that, and thus proved that it does pay in life to have friends in low places.
So when Severus had left his home after what had presumably been one hell of an argument (he refused to say for certain), he had taken them with him. This was also how he had a portrait of himself and his sister sitting on a riverbank one summer's day, simply enjoying life, radiant with happiness. The beauty of the piece had taken Hermione's breath away, as it had been painted with such feeling. It had been a deliberate gift to Severus from Thaliae for Severus's eighteenth birthday, and the story behind the painting only made her love it all the more.
Thaliae had been two years older than Severus, and on leaving Hogwarts had taken a job in the Ministry to support her while she pursued her dreams of being an artist, and had refused the virtually arranged marriage into which her parents had tried to push her. From that point on, while Thaliae was not disowned, she was unwelcome at home, and the few occasions she visited were distinctly uncomfortable for all concerned.
However when Severus had reached the age of eighteen, he had received an allowance left to him by his grandfather in his last will and testament. As he had already been receiving an allowance from his parents since the age of seventeen, Severus had instructed Gringotts to transfer the entirety of his annual allowance from his grandfather to Thaliae. While he might have liked the money to keep up with his opulent friends, it meant Thaliae could leave the job she disliked and follow her heart.
The painting had been a record of the day when Severus told her what he had planned to do for her, and under the blazing summer sun, Thaliae had told him that whatever happened in the future, she would never forget his gift, and never turn him away. Looking back, he had said, it was almost like she had had a premonition of what was to come, but then, since his encounter with Lupin in werewolf form in the fifth year, the signs had been there to see. In fact it wasn't long after he left school that he became a fully fledged death eater.
But when Hermione had asked what had happened to Thaliae, Severus had just shaken his head sadly and said that the war had caused a lot of disruption and he had lost touch. He knew that she was alive, and that she had chosen to leave the British Wizarding community for pastures new some time after Voldemort's first downfall. The money was still transferred to her account by Gringotts and withdrawn regularly, which he took as an indication that she was carrying on with her life. Despite her promise of returning the unconditional love and acceptance he had shown her, Severus never felt that he should look up Thaliae. She had always been so peaceful, happy, and enamoured with the beauty she found all around her, that he did not want to bring his darkness into her life. She had been one of the things he forfeited voluntarily as a part of his penance. A penance which he had yet to succeed in completing.
The carvings were not the only echoes of his past Hermione had found - there had been a whole box filled with photographs of Severus and Thaliae growing up. Seemingly part of the disowning process had involved his parents removing every single written or photographic shred of evidence that Severus had ever existed from their house. Rather than leave them to be burned, he had boxed and reduced them and never looked at them again.
Hermione had other ideas however, and had procured several photo albums, beginning to sort the photographs into a time-line of Severus Snape's life. She had discovered a neat little spell in the library that caused a photo to declare the date and location of when it was taken, and by casting 'enarro' on the photos en masse, was able to sort them into a chronological order. She transferred one to each page, and neatly recorded the details of place and date in gold lettering by the side of the photograph.
It was by doing this that she discovered that Severus had visited nearly every European country, as well as Russia, India, and Egypt. He had, however, never visited America, as Hermione had. The summer before she began at Hogwarts her parents had surprised her with a trip to Florida. And although the perkiness and fabricated nature of the theme parks would not normally be her thing, she had loved every minute.
At ten she was just tall enough to get on the rides, and she threw herself whole-heartedly into enjoying the parades of Disney characters and discovering every single one of the tourist traps that were there. She loved everything about that holiday, from the grand displays of fireworks and laser shows (novelties back them) right down to the way the maintenance workers had doors marked 'Cast Only'. But in a strange way it had marked the end of an era, as she suspected her parents had expected it to.
The following September she had departed on the Hogwart's express to a new world, and although the physical journey only took her a few hundred miles north to Hogwarts, it marked the beginning of a journey that would eventually remove her entirely from the world her parents knew. Not that she knew it at the time, but she knew it now.
So it had been with some trepidation that Hermione had asked how Severus's parents had treated him during his childhood. The reason for the visits to all over the world, but not America, was that his parents were (and probably still are, he added wryly) incurable social climbers. In the holidays they toured the world on invites from moneyed friends and distant relatives, attending soirees and cocktail parties and formal balls. They also hosted a good few at the estates they owned in Britain and overseas.
Severus had been expected to behave impeccably at these events - to speak politely and clearly, to act with proper courtesy and decorum and restraint at all time, and to dance perfectly. But beside from the lessons growing up in manners and dancing and proper behaviour, he had basically been left to his own devices, and had had full run of the library. He had been bought a wand at the age of six, illegally of course, and had practised magic from that day on, avoiding the Ministry regulations by dint of the Underage magic regulations only applying to those aged 11-17 still at school. Of course had he been found with a wand, his family would have been in serious trouble. But he wasn't Slytherin for nothing and this simple deceit hardly fazed him at all.
So by the time he came to Hogwarts he was by far the most able first year, and knew enough curses to keep those who thought he was a geek away. Within the first term he was known as the quickest draw in the school, shooting with a double barrelled weapon of cutting sarcasm or highly unpleasant hexes. In the case of Gryffindors he tended to use both, just for good measure.
After hearing this Hermione had decided not to include the stiffly formal family portrait in the album, and tucked it in the back cover instead.
At first she had merely stacked the albums on the floor, but after discovering a tiffany lamp, she had transfigured a wall-dresser in art deco style and arranged the carvings around the lamp, and lined the leather bound albums up, so the years they included were displayed on the spines.
Another notable find among his possessions had been a crystal ball. With definite amusement he had told her that at the end of his second year he had chosen his elective classes without reference to his parents, and they had included Muggle Studies. However when his parents had looked at his book list the following summer they had told him that studying anything about the Muggle way of life was pointless, and forced him to change courses. But by the time he had got in contact with Hogwarts, there were only spaces on the Divination course left.
This had led to an eventful study of the arts of divining the future, which ended when the professor involved had refused to have Severus back for the fourth year on account of his extreme scepticism clouding his inner eye, and Severus had taken up Muggle Studies in his fourth year. Hermione and Severus had both spent quite a while comparing stories of divination horrors, and one particularly amusing story of Severus's about floating tealeaves, enchanted to talk and deliver dire predictions from their cup and saucer had Hermione in stitches.
My mutual consent the crystal ball had been repacked and shoved in a corner, on account of neither of them really wanting to remember their failures at divination. When Hermione confessed that she had given hers to Neville after he broke his by letting it roll down the stairs to the boys' dormitories, Severus took the chance to get it out of his life for good, and donated it to 'the worthy cause that is Longbottom, as recompense for seven years of insults. I hope he enjoys it as much as I enjoyed the insults.' Despite herself, Hermione had laughed.
She supposed that the determination to study the Muggle way of doing things accounted for the collection of vinyl records he owned, along with the record player, which did not work. He told her that at his former home all that had been needed was a simple enchantment on the plug to supply a perpetual source of current to it, and it did not matter that there was no electrical connection. However at Hogwarts, the atmosphere was so charged with magic that the power was drawn right out of the device and dissipated to the nearest spell caster, so the record player had never worked since he had moved here.
Hermione though it was just one more indication of the darkness, actual and metaphorical, that he had found himself in for all these years.
The record player itself had posed no real trouble when she considered the problem long enough, and inspired by memories of Captain Kirk aboard the starship Enterprise, she designed a magical 'force field' that protected the device from the surrounding magic and drew enough in to actually power it, thus killing two birds with one stone. Once it was fully functional the player was moved into the main room, and stood on another piece of Hermione's specially designed furniture along with the records, and needless to say, they derived a good bit of use from it.
Of course not all of the time had been spent sharing histories, or rooting through Severus's belongings, and these moments of sitting together amidst an ever decreasing pile of cardboard, close, but never touching, had formed the much needed breaks in the countless hours of research and calculations that took up most of their time together.
In a little over two months the work had progressed at quite a rate until they had reached a stage where practical testing was necessary. Eventually they had surmised that the curse which had rebounded on Voldemort had not been totally ineffectual against Harry.
What the ancient magic had done was not to render the curse ineffectual, but to establish a connection between man and boy where some spark of life that had been killed in Harry was replaced by a part of Voldemort's energy, a process which had transferred a good few of Voldemort's powers over to Harry. The measures Voldemort had taken to gain immortality had prevented this transfer from resulting in his death, and left some aspect of physical form attached to his spirit; while Harry had received a scar that would not heal because it was not truly a part of him, so would always stand out.
Between them and the texts provided by (unbeknown to either) Dumbledore they worked out the exact nature of the connection that still existed, and had finally succeeded in ascertaining the method Voldemort was using to exploit it. This had been done by endless reams of arithmantic charts and equations, exploring the probability of every scenario; as well as extrapolating the effect each scenario would have on the magical flows within Harry, and comparing this to what Hermione saw.
Now they had an answer to how Harry was being controlled, they were fairly sure they could turn it against Voldemort; all they were lacking was details of his ultimate plan for them all.
In short, they were on a roll.
Yet the past months had not been all self-congratulation either. Servers had been summoned to Voldemort on five occasions, the first just after Hermione's encounter with Malfoy, where due to the calming potion, she had appeared distinctly un-traumatised. Voldemort had not been happy - assuming Severus had done too good a job in helping her regain a balanced outlook on life - and more importantly restored her academic focus.
He had seemed mainly concerned that Harry would be able to check the information Voldemort was filtering into his brain, and Severus left him blissfully unaware of the real danger Hermione's intellect posed to him. Despite Severus's assurances that the truce between them was for show only, that it had been necessary to prevent suspicions being raised, he had been badly tortured. Barely able to walk, he had staggered back to his rooms, where Hermione had been waiting (this time with his permission), and would have collapsed except that he felt fainting into a female student's arms was somehow shameful.
Hermione had done her best to heal him, and soothe him, until he actually fell asleep this time, his head resting in her lap, pride and dignity forgotten in face of the simple comfort she offered.
Another such of these occasions had been after Harry's first 'dark arts' lesson. The lesson itself had followed an unexpected path, with Harry, most likely with a wish-list courtesy of Voldemort had asked Snape to teach him the 'Metus' series of hexes, that caused the victim to see and feel the things that they feared the most. Snape had been wary on account of these spells having little defensive value, and had deliberately mis-taught Harry the spells. Almost immediately after the unproductive evening had ended, Voldemort had summoned Severus to him and demonstrated the proper casting of every single Metus.
The things that Severus had murmured about in his sleep that night still made Hermione's blood run cold. But the reason he had been so distraught that night when he returned was that the some images he had seen had involved Hermione being harmed and killed while he stood helpless by, forced to watch, or even participate. No doubt he felt he had exposed her as even more of a target than she already was, put her in danger, but as she whispered to him once he was asleep, she was glad he cared; that that was the most important thing to her.
That first dark arts lesson was the only one she had observed, invisibly of course. Severus had invited her along to watch him have 'a little fun humiliating Potter', which he had, and then had paid for. She had gone to watch out of curiosity, and truth be told, a malicious desire to see Harry get his comeuppance.
Part of her recovery had centred on shifting the blame for everything that had happened, to her, to Severus, to Harry, to most people around her to Voldemort. Intellectually she knew that Harry didn't deserve her hate, but that changed very little for her. She had forced herself to act as if she had forgiven him, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Voldemort must be working on something that had already been there in Harry's mind, magnifying it out of all proportion. That in some small part the responsibility for his behaviour lay with Harry and Harry alone.
She supposed she would never know the truth.
But she knew that when she sat next to Harry in lessons, or was shut in the same room as him like that lesson, her breathing wanted to quicken. She was always fighting down a panic when she was near him, not that Harry would attack her, but that Harry would not be strong enough to resist Voldemort, and Voldemort would attack her. She took her security from the presence of others, and not from faith in Harry, or his regret.
Hence whilst she blamed Voldemort for raping her, she blamed Harry for being too weak to fight for her, and for covering his tracks so thoroughly. He was still everybody's golden boy - their hero and last hope of their saviour. She blamed him because he fought Voldemort for Dumbledore's stone, for Ginny's diary, for Cedric's proper burial, and won; but for her honour, her sanity, her virginity, he didn't fight hard enough.
And so she went to no more 'lessons', and began to sit Ron between herself and Harry during lessons.
But despite all that had passed, all the water under the bridge, she was back where she had started, alone, lost and scared with no-one to talk to or confide in. All the hours in Severus's company seemed to have become meaningless, now that it had all gone so wrong, once again.
She was saved from a descent into total depression by a hand gently lifting the curtain of hair with which she was shielding herself.
"Pulling another all-nighter? That can't be good for you?" questioned the soft voice she had come to love.
Reluctantly she looked up at him, briefly meeting his eyes, before looking down again at her hands folded on the desk before her. But that brief glimpse was all Severus needed to see something was terribly wrong. The imprints on her forehead said she had been sitting like that for quite a time, and the desperate sorrow and hurt in her eyes was all to clear.
Moving around her he took the seat next to her, so as not to tower over her, and asked in a voice full of concern,
"What's happened? What's wrong? Hermione?"
When no answer was forthcoming, he gently placed a hand under her chin, tilting it up so he was looking at her directly, before adding, "You can tell me anything, you know that don't you?"
A few more moments of forced eye contact, and she opened her mouth uncertainly, appearing to have difficulty finding the words she needed. After swallowing several times she whispered, barely audible,
"I'm pregnant."
TBC
A/N:
Okay, so I guess you saw that coming, but as for what will happen. . .who knows.
Anyway, hope you liked the sweeping plot arc, it would have taken too long to get through that entire plot in direct dialogue. I know it might seem a little of-point, but I think some details will be important later on.
Right details and stuff - Don't know why Hermione needs a whirring hygrometer, as it actually measures wind speed, but it sounds suitably strange to fit the text, so humour me.
In Roman mythology Thaliae was a muse of comedy or light verse, a suitable opposite to everything Severus is.
'Enarro' is the latin verb to narrate a story.
'Metus' literally means fear.
Thank you for all the reviews, you don't know happy they make me . . . Bye - Photis
