Chapter 17: Solstice

Practice, it turned out, was exactly what was needed, Hermione discovered. It brought back memories of trying to learn how to fly. The later she had abandoned gratefully after the first year when it was no longer a compulsory subject, and while she enjoyed watching others flaunt their daring on the Quidditch pitch, Hermione kept her own feet firmly on the ground.

It wasn't that she was afraid of heights, or speed, or even being suspended in the air by what amounted to a flimsy collection of sticks; it was just that her talents lay firmly in the theoretical, not the practical. She just accepted that, jokingly saying that if her life ever depended on having to fly a broom, she'd just have to die.

Only that it didn't seem quite so funny now. She had a hugely practical task to master, and a deadline by which to do it. With the emphasis on *dead*. If she didn't manage it, she would die, of that she was sure.

So the time had come to do what Hermione rarely did, step out from behind her books and admit that research had taken her as far as it was ever going to. And the journey into action was one Hermione had never undertaken alone - no courageous partners-in-crime to carry her along this time.

This was not to say, however, that their research had been unprofitable. The final clue needed had come, ironically, not from a book, but from Voldemort himself. In one of the 'lessons', Potter, or rather Voldemort talking through Potter, had asked to learn the enchantments for the Sanguisuga ritual. Snape had in all honesty had to look up the intricate details - so obscure and forgotten the ritual was. And while it was a highly technical and advanced piece of dark magic, its lack of note stemmed for the fact that it was considered virtually useless.

Foremost, it was only able to be performed once a year, at midday of the spring equinox in the home of the intended victim, in fairly close proximity for all that. The constraints of use, as well as the length and complexity of the incantations meant that the request was not an idle one. Could not be an idle one, or their whole planned suddenly developed a very large flaw.

However, assuming that Voldemort was going to use the Sanguisuga ritual, this gave Severus and Hermione a deadline, March 21st, the day the ritual would have to be performed. They surmised, from the significance of the day, and to be sure of success, Voldemort would have to put the whole of his essence, hi blackened soul in its entirety, into Potter. The ritual itself made use of the fact that the spring equinox was a day of balance; the day when the hours of daylight equalled the hours of darkness to the minute.

The day when everything stood in perfect symmetry - most particularly magical power. It was fairly well known that if a witch or wizard overextended themselves on the day of spring equinox, their magical ability would be reduced for a period following, how long depending on how big a drain they placed on their innate reserves of magic. In severe cases, they could drain themselves of magic entirely, an event which usually resulted in their death.

It was this fact that meant not all of those with innate magical talent were trained in the magical institutions worldwide. The limit on the magical power they could safely draw simple lay too low to allow them to attain the levels required to even scrape a pass in their NEWTs. So be they squibs or Muggle-born, they passed into society untrained, in many cases unaware of their natural talent, the magic in them only becoming sufficiently focused at times of dire emergency.

Yet at spring equinox, all of the magical community found the limit of the magic they could safely use drastically reduced. It was this fact that the Sanguisuga ritual made use of; it drew magic out of the victim to such a degree that they were normally killed, failing that their magical ability severely impaired. The downside to the ritual was that unless the practitioner was immensely powerful, they too were killed due to the drain of magic the ritual created in them. And dark wizards do not like anything that could result in their death.

Hence Voldemort's use of Harry Potter - assassination by proxy. Dumbledore had to be the intended target (he was the only resident who had no other address to call home) and this had the added bonus of Potter being able to get near him with ease. Plus the fact that in all likelihood Potter would be killed.

Two birds with one obscure ritual.

Now the pair knew what was about to transpire, how, when and where they had begun to devise a means of using the one flaw in Voldemort's plan against him, namely that he would be forced to separate his spirit entirely from his body. This meant that if they could destroy his spirit - severely weakened, as it was lacking the protection of the body veiled in immortality and defensive charms - they could be done with Voldemort once and for all.

And to this end they had devised a plan, the genius of which lay in its simplicity. Severus had the ability - underused - to project any emotion he chose onto another person. He had witnessed the myriad of emotions that accompany death, and relived the moments in his nightmares, enough times to know the pattern as well as the back of his hand. He was intending to project the feelings of death onto Voldemort's soul - at which point Hermione came in.

Voldemort would feel as if he was dying, but not actually be dying, because his mind did not believe what he was experiencing. Hermione had found accounts that claimed if she could read chi then she could alter it; make a fractured pattern appear whole, and visa versa. In simple terms she should be able to make someone experiencing or speaking a lie believe that it was the gospel truth by repairing the part of the chi fractured by the untruth.

Genius the plan may have been, but there was one small problem - neither could actually do what they intended to do with their powers. They had just over three months to accomplish what it took some a lifetime of study and reflection to master.

For the moment progress was slow.

To be exact, progress during the last days of term, when work was being handed out liberally in preparation for the holidays, was nonexistent. Hermione felt compelled to try and get her assigned work done before the end of term, so that she could spend the holidays focusing on the extra work she had been given. As a consequence, she had spent virtually no time in the dungeons since the Hogsmeade weekend when Snape had discovered she was pregnant.

That had been a week ago. Hermione hoped he hadn't had too much time away from her, and decided that he was better of without the trouble she caused for him. Which was why, on the first day of the Christmas holidays, Hermione decamped to the dungeons, planning to spend plenty of time there.

Deciding against the subtle approach of actually asking before announcing her intention to move in, Hermione packed a bag with several changes of clothes, various toiletries and the text books for the subjects she wanted to start her extra work on (the ones she really liked!). Slinging the bag over her shoulder and marched down to Severus's office with determination, then decided to knock before entering, because she was at heart still a very polite young lady.

Severus opened the door and surveyed Hermione and her bag with an expression as close to being bemused as he would ever let his face get.

"Running away from home? Going somewhere?"

"Hopefully, in here."

"I see."

"Yeah. Think of it as my formal request for political asylum." She grinned broadly.

"Well for that you have to show signs of persecution. If you had time to pack that bag, well . . ." his expression said that he was now teasing her.

"Model of efficiency, me. Can I move in then?"

"So long as there's nothing pink in that bag."

"Oh stop being difficult."

With a mock bow, Severus stepped back, but neatly divested Hermione of her bag and carried it into the bedroom for her, allowing her to get herself comfortable for the day's activities.

* * *

"And that," exclaimed Hermione with an exaggerated sigh, "I think is finally that!"

Severus looked down at the scroll in front of him one last time. Having scanned the contents critically, he allowed the paper to roll up with a snap. He nodded. Then smiled.

"Yes you have now completed the syllabus for History of Magic, and stayed awake for the entire duration, a feat never before completed, to my knowledge. My congratulations.

The last was delivered with all sincerity, and a tone that suggested irony, but was nonetheless true. Hermione had spent the majority of her holidays this far completing the syllabuses of all her subjects in preparation for her early NEWTs. Most teachers settled for giving her a list of all the subjects yet to be completed, including the important bits of work she'd be expected to do. They had then reminded her she had a comprehensive textbook and shooed her out of the door. Only Professor Flitwick had told her that he'd be available all holiday, should she encounter any difficulty, and would be delighted to help.

It was not exactly the co-operative attitude she'd been promised by Dumbledore, or hoped for, given seven years of devoted and conscientious study. Hermione expected it had more than a little to do with Professor McGonagall's imperious command that it would be done, without giving any reasons why. And her disapproval of the situation had been very clear in her body language on these occasions. Severus had told her more than a few of her teachers had heard courtesy of the 'grape vine' before anyone had though to inform them.

For some reason, he added with a touch of wry humour, they had seen fit to ask him for verification.

Hermione decided that if he wasn't enjoying the attention, then he must have won the lottery, and neglected to mention it to her. Talked about, suspected and disapproved of - Severus Snape was in his element. All the extra people to snap at, frown at and generally over-awe were having a positive effect on his mood when he was alone with Hermione. And while people were talking about Severus, and digressing onto the many other things they had to say about him and his manner, they weren't talking about Hermione, a situation which pleased them both.

On the rare occasions they ventured out of the dungeons together, the invariably seemed to encounter Dumbledore strolling somewhere or other, moustaches twitching.

Hermione had definitely developed an appreciation of the solitude of living in the dungeon offered, even if she did mourn the lack of natural light. Even so, Severus insisted that she head up to the Gryffindor tower, and her rooms, at least once a day. For appearances, he said. Which meant that she walked through the common room at a time it was likely to be highly populated, headed for her room, cast an invisibility charm around herself, and headed back out. The difference in attitude to her when she walked in - respectful, if distant - was a marked contrast to the whispers she heard on her way out.

Yet more and more she was feeling a distance growing between herself and her housemates, and she did not regret it. It was not that she was rejecting them or running away, withdrawing into solitude, it was just that she had outgrown them. When she had jokingly requested political asylum from Severus, it was not Slytherin she had fled to, but the adult world.

The pathetic attempts of the other Gryffindors to avoid work and dedication to anything academic, and obsession with Quidditch or fashion depending on their sex, were something Hermione had never understood. Previously she had tolerated it, tried to fit herself around their world, but now it seemed contemptible. If it had yet to dawn on her classmates that this was the last set of exams they would ever take - that it was really their final chance to emerge into the world qualified witches or wizards, then it was no concern of hers. Once, she would have reminded them that if they didn't pass all their core subjects then they would have their wands snapped, or worse, the indignity of repeating their final year.

Incompetent wizards are not just loosed on to the world just because they completed seven years at Hogwarts - graduation had to be earned on merit not stamina. To remind them now would be a means of her to cause trouble, not out of genuine concern for the misguided, and she had better uses for her time.

So she ignored the whispers, and hurried back to the dungeon, and the man she had seriously begun to contemplate marrying.

But not tonight - tonight the routine had to be changed - all because it was Christmas Eve.

Severus, being Severus, could give mules lessons in stubbornness; and tonight, after completing her work at last and a time of conversation - it could have been minutes or hours, time had a habit of disappearing - he had dispatched her to Gryffindor with instructions to stay there all night.

It was the house-elves he explained, that were the problem. By longstanding tradition they distributed presents according to a list delivered from the reindeer-elves, to cut down on the workload for their elf brothers. And Professor McGonagall compared the names of the recipients to the rooms to which the presents were delivered, which was the room where they were asleep when the presents arrived, in case anyone decided to give their lovers a special Christmas gift. McGonagall finding Hermione recorded as sleeping in Severus Snape's bed - and she was sure to check for it - was a Christmas surprise neither of them needed.

Reluctantly, Hermione had gone to her own room, which was now seemed terribly empty without the comforting presence of someone else just outside her door, and waited. Without the sound of another person breathing, the silence was unbearable.

Waited for the morning when she would be able to run down and see if he appreciated her gift. Waited until she would be able to be back in the familiar, safe surroundings of his home. Waited for sleep to come, without her protector on hand to guard her slumber.

Just waited, as the minutes crawled by.