Chapter 12: Mercabilis

Severus blinked, running a quick edit in his mind of all the tings he wanted to say. Still not releasing her chin he settled for "Pardon me?" as nothing else really seemed to do.

Hermione for her part, looked into his eyes with an almost pleading expression, and seemed unable to repeat herself.

Having reached an impasse, Severus too wary of the surroundings and her response to ask any of the questions racing through his mind, and Hermione rendered incapable of speech by fear of what his silence meant, neither spoke for a moment.

After a pause that seemed to stretch to eternity, Severus released her chin and said, in a flat measured tone, "We should continue this discussion in my office."

Again, Hermione was struck with the fear that he was going to desert her, or force her secret into the open, by the strange formality of his tone, a formality she had thought long since abandoned when they were in private.

In the time it had taken her to process these thoughts, Severus (was it her imagination or was he turning back into Professor Snape before her eyes) had risen and began moving towards the exit. Banishing the book she had been reading back to its rightful place on the shelf, she rose to follow him, subconsciously falling in step a few paces behind him, like a student being led to his office for punishment.

Once they were clear of the library and the watchful glare of Madame Pince, he fell back a few paces to walk by her side, carefully masked concern visible on his face as he looked down at her. But Hermione, who was studying her feet, did not notice this. Severus sighed inwardly, and settled for steering her around the obstacles she did not see by light touches of her elbow, than trying to pull her out of the depression into which she seemed to have sunk. That needed a setting more private that the corridors, so he settled for increasing his pace, and hurrying her along with him as well.

When they finally reached his classroom he had sorted his thoughts into a plan of attack, and led her through to his office. But when he sat down his desk and gestured for her to take the seat on the other side, the numb look on her face morphed into an expression of pain.

She sat immediately and dropped her head, once again folding her hands in her lap and studying them. She evidently assumed that she was now banned from his rooms.

"Hermione, look at me. Please."

It wasn't quite his teaching voice, but the command was there nevertheless. After a moment and the please, she complied, obviously fighting back tears.

"Hermione, listen to me carefully. I have invested too much time and effort in getting you to like me, to push you away now. Not to mention that seeing you, being near you, is the highlight of my day." At this he paused and a smile of delight lit up her face. So he continued.

"You know that's the truth. (A nod.) But Madame Pince will have heard every word said in the library - generally one of her more useful skills - but in this case meaning that we will be receiving a visit from the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey in fairly short order. Were they to find us in my rooms, Minerva and Poppy at least would jump to the wrong conclusions. Hence our being here."

"Why not the headmaster, I mean, why won't he draw the wrong conclusions?"

"I informed him of events - giving no names of course. I suspect he had drawn his own inferences from Potter's changing behaviour, but we have not discussed the matter further. He saw no reason to inform anyone else as he felt your wishes should be respected, and because you seemed content to talk it out with me."

It seemed relief was becoming the predominant emotion in Hermione's mind as she listened to the barrage of information.

"I don't want to insult you by asking this, but am I correct in assuming that Potter is the father? (Another nod.) Then I have to ask how this happened. You told me . . ."

Seeing her open her mouth, Severus swiftly ceded control of the conversation.

"My period started on the Friday after, which was why I said I didn't need a potion."

Snape nodded, recalling he had offered to obtain some supplies of Morning- After potion for her. The potion itself took a week to brew - far too long for their purposes - so he would have had to appropriate some from the infirmary, under Madame Pomfrey's watchful eye. When Hermione had told him it was unnecessary, he had gladly dropped the point, to avoid the inevitable complications including Madame Pomfrey in the loop would cause.

"But in that book I was reading it said that if you get pregnant two or three days before you period then sometimes it's too late too stop menstruation, but you remain pregnant. Especially if you don't want to be pregnant. So I didn't think anymore about it, until I started feeling sick every morning, that I got worried. So I did a verificum charm on myself, and it's true. But I still can't believe it."

At which point she seemed to run out of steam, and lapsed back into silence. Snape took charge again, aware of the time restraints on him.

"So I presume you want this to be known to those who must know as a result of an . . . indiscretion . . . on your part and a lack of due care, rather than the truth. (Again a nod) And to leave the father undisclosed in the guise of protecting his identity (A smaller nod) Very well."

"They'll think it's yours won't they?" concern threaded through her voice.

"More than likely, yes. But Dumbledore knows the truth, so will resist pressure to fire me, and protest my innocence for me. It's not as if he's lacking in practise at either."

This raised a smile out of Hermione, at least.

Severus looked up as there was a knock on the door. "Ah, the show begins," he muttered in a mock-serious tone.

Then louder in a voice totally devoid of emotion: "Enter."

Hermione stood respectfully as the predicted three teachers did just that.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the seclusion of a deserted classroom in the North Tower, Harry Potter was preparing. To be more precise, Harry Potter's body was preparing - his mind was in free-fall, suppressed beneath Voldemort's. Under his control, Potter was running through a barrage of curses that normally even the most dedicated Dark-Arts practitioners took several years to master. It seemed that an unusual aptitude for the Dark Arts was another 'talent' transferred, or more accurately copied to Harry, that fateful night at Godric's Hollow.

The pile of rats that had dies some hideous way was slowly growing, and the squawking contents of the cage were trying desperately to escape, as slowly but surely every last one was removed and killed. These practises were becoming increasingly more useful than Snape's Dark-Arts lessons - even now he had begun teaching properly, for fear of reprisals.

This was partly because of Potter's growing skill, and partly because Voldemort was fine-tuning his control over the boy. He could now make him perform any task by projection the entirety of his astral self into Potter's body. It felt rather nice to leave the engineered shell he had created and inhabited out of necessity in favour of the young flesh and blood of a seventeen-year-old boy. A famous one at that; girls had a habit of falling willingly at his feet given the slightest signal - and it was a long time since Voldemort had had a willing partner.

The only drawback was that Potter's body had to learn to perform the task that Voldemort's mind requested of it. The psychic connection between the two did not yet guarantee that 'mind over matter' would prevail, and Voldemort had learnt not to expect this newly-acquired body to perform especially complex tasks on the first time of asking.

Hence this practise.

And so, Voldemort in Potter's body continued his variations on the ways to kill rats (instead of people) and the flows of maniacal delight and raw power that would normally have alerted Snape to his presence, went undetected, so close was his concentration on the situation infolding in his office.

* * *

Many floors down, Albus Dumbledore was motioning for Hermione to seat herself once again. She was relieved to see he had a definite twinkle in his eye, as he said;

"My dear, thanks to Madame Pince's excellent ears, I have been informed that there is something of a . . . situation here. I'm sure you and Professor Snape are well on the way to working something out -"

Hermione noticed at this Dumbledore caught Severus's eye and was rewarded with an almost imperceptible nod, and continued;

"- but if I could ask you to indulge an old man, would you start at the beginning once again?"

Hermione nodded her head and drew a breath in, taking advantage of the distraction caused as Dumbledore began to conjure up three more chairs, light the fire, and settle himself, for all the world as if she were about to launch into and entertaining tale. A glance at Severus confirmed that was exactly what she should do, though the grim set of his face told her he expected it to be anything but entertaining.

"Well." It seemed like a safe opening, "I don't suppose you need any details on how I got pregnant . . . so all we were talking about was how I was going to finish my schooling, and we were waiting for you anyway."

There - she had done it. Passed the whole deal of as inconsequential. Now all that remained was to see if the two women bought it, and if Dumbledore was going to let her get away with it.

In fact, the casual way she trotted it out produced and explosion from the other two women present. Madame Pomfrey edged in with,

"Knowing the father's name is not a detail!" just before Professor McGonagall exclaimed,

"You can't possibly be thinking of keeping it?!"

Seeing Hermione regarding both of the women in shock, Dumbledore neatly filled the silence.

"As to the matter of the father, I believe in assuming that I already know the young man's identity?"

Both Severus and Hermione answered in tandem, both with a simple yes.

The headmaster turned to Severus and asked,

"Is it the individual we spoke of recently?"

Severus affirmed this with a nod.

"I see." Turning back from facing Severus to face Hermione again: "The choice as to whether you carry this pregnancy to term is entirely yours. How far along are you?"

"About nine weeks."

Dumbledore nodded.

"So . . . that puts your due date some time in June - a little close to the NEWTs, as I'm sure you already noticed. Well then, that leaves us the option of you taking your exams early or late. Late would probably mean repeating your final year and graduating with the current sixth year - sleepless nights are not conductive to study.

"Early should be possible some time in April - I have no doubt that you could be ready for then with a little extra work, should you chose that option. Minerva?"

"Yes I suppose that could be organised."

"Good, good. Severus?"

"Miss Granger's potions ability has been up to standard since her fifth year." The gruff tone did little to disguise the softening of his face when he saw Hermione smile.

"Excellent. Now my dear, we shall stop talking about you and leave you to your discussion with Professor Snape. I'd like you to come to my office when you've made a decision. The password is 'raspberry ripple'."

With which words he stood to leave, nodded to Severus, and departed, leaving Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey no choice but to follow him, and Hermione and Severus alone again.

As she left, Professor McGonagall turned and said,

"Miss Granger, should you need anyone . . . else . . . to talk to, you know where to find me."

Her tone was conciliatory, but her face looked if anything, disapproving.

She obviously remembered the start of the unusual Snape/Granger association had been about nine weeks ago, and this twinned with Dumbledore's question to Snape over the father's identity, had given her the impression she was leaving the two parents alone to discuss the future of their child.

In a way she was right. Severus knew that Hermione would need support over the coming months that she could not expect to get from the father. And no doubt that should he allow it, Hermione would look to him to fill the void. Now that he thought of it, the prospect was not unpleasant, but for the time being he held his peace.

This was Hermione's decision to make, and so it was up to her to make the first move. He waited while she studied some detail of the fireplace, hoping she knew how proud he was of her. The strength she had just shown was more that he had expected so soon - especially when he knew she was nowhere near as calm as she appeared on the surface.

"I can't just get rid of it. I can't. Whatever happened, it's not the baby's fault."

Severus merely nodded, careful to keep his face totally neutral.

"This is about you as well, not just your baby. Are you sure that's what you want? I'm not trying to sway you either way, but I want to make sure you've considered everything. Minerva's and Poppy's reactions are the kind you're most likely to encounter. They both think that I am the father, and that this will ruin your life."

Again the hurt eyes stared into his.

"Is this about you keeping your job?" A level tone of voice, but anger and tears battling inside of her to be let out first.

Realising his mistake, Severus moved swiftly round the desk and positioned himself so that he was kneeling at the corner of her chair, looking up at her face.

"No, Hermione, it's not. Please believe me when I say that I want only what's best for you.

"To the wizarding world I am a Death-Eater who lied to save his own skin, cleverly fooling Dumbledore and the Ministry. Or worse yet I'm one of his pet projects, like Lupin, that he takes on to prove what a great man he is, seeing through the exterior to the true potential within.

"I'm hated or pitied. I don't care if the world proclaims me a bastard who has taken advantage of a naïve student and forced her to have his child.

"But I care about it if you are going to be concerned by it. Because while they're all saying it about me, they'll be talking about you. The brush they use to paint my name blacker than it already is will be used to paint you the victim; to be pitied, protected, shielded, but damaged in some way.

"Whatever you decide, I will support you, I swear, all I need to know is that you've made an informed choice. I'll even marry you, if you could bear it; Merlin knows I love you -"

Hermione gasped, and looked at him, as he knelt there, his mouth slightly agape in shock at what had just slipped out of his mouth. That's where letting go of your emotions and talking from the heart lands you, Severus, he thought.

Ever so slowly, Hermione seemed to thaw, and moved her hands to cup his upturned face, stroking one prominent cheekbone with her thumb.

"Do you?" she asked in a bare whisper.



A/N:

Mercabilis - latin term meaning that a situation is negotiable.

Well, was it worth the wait?

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