Disclaimer: Get real. If it were mine, I wouldn't be broke. Oops, I need to rectify that posthaste…
Hm, I took some liberties in including all creatures not pureblooded on Voldemort's list of things lower than me… Sorry. Oh, I also am a stupid American without enough time to research the British Parliamentary system…Well, that and I am too lazy to do it. So, right, I absolutely screwed with it, and can only apologize for it. If someone has a big problem and can tell me how to correct (who should properly succeed the Minister of Magick), then I'll make the change in title, otherwise it will stay as is. Also, the tense in my flashbacks (denoted in italics) gets a little weird, and I can't quite figure how to fix it. Hm, you know, the thing that takes the longest time, if my muses are cooperating, is the proofreading and review reply. Honestly, going over my work slowly so that things read right and are grammatically sound takes forever, and sometimes gets tedious, so I am sorry in that I am perhaps not as assiduous in getting the boring stuff done so that I can post. However, I was finished writing almost a week ago. I have to leave in an hour, and I want to get ready now, so yeah. Um, one note, I stole the concept of the Serpent's Den from someone, and if anyone knows who the original person was to use it, I would love to credit them. There's a fair amount of swearing in this…should I change the rating? I think there are some run-on ish sentences, and if someone has a big problem with them, I'll see about changing them, but I don't think they're too bad. All right, again, if you want to be notified of the next chapter, tell me in a review or email me at amariran@yahoo.com and I really love reviews, as do the muses. Hope you enjoy, sorry about the long author's note, but for anyone who doesn't write I just spent an hour doing review replies. Wow.
As the Seasons Decay, Chapter Twelve
A few days later found Hermione and Severus again in their comfortable research room, furiously pouring over the still high pile of books. With the latest Death Eater attacks, the war was brought even closer to Hermione. It had come as no surprise to Severus, as he had known it was only a matter of time before Arthur and Percy Weasley's family was targeted in Voldemort's cleansing of the Ministry. The only surprise was that the entire family had managed to escape unscathed. He recalled last night with the picture perfect clarity with which all his bad memories were preserved (his happier ones- relatively happier, that was- were, naturally, obscured with the thick disguising fog of the past).
"Servants, it is time, once again, to take back the Ministry. Too long have we suffered fools given positions of trust and power in our world, thwarting our moves. We seek to create a better- the BEST wizarding society that there has ever been in the farthest annals of history and beyond. They seek only to stop us from achieving our noble goal, unable to look away from their narrow-minded path and see the uses that power can bring them, the true way that magick should be used, and the natural order of the world which has been too long suppressed under that foolish guise of 'fairness and 'equality.' But for all of that, it is quite simple. We, my pureblooded followers, are meant to rule over all other peoples. Muggles, of course, but also trolls, and goblins, and giants and every living race shall pay tribute to us, their natural Lords. And our discreet operations" here Voldemort sneered; the man hated anything which bespoke of an inefficiency or incapability on his part "are not enough. We must and we will begin a systematic cleansing of the center of the British Wizarding world; the Ministry of Magick. As I speak, we are honoured with the presence of our dear Minister of Magick, newly risen from his sadly obscure position as Vice-Minister. We freely acknowledge that much of the good work that has been coming from the Ministry, regarding the foiling of that pathetic group headed by the Old Fool, has been of his doing, and welcome him with open arms into our little circle." This was the man's first meeting, and it was only the Inner Circle tonight. Having the Minister of Magick in one's pocket was not something widely advertised, especially if one is an evil megalomaniac. It tends to get the aforementioned person sacked swiftly. Severus knew what was to come next. The madman had chosen his targets. He was not satisfied with controlling the Minister alone: Harvey Dringley, a small man in every sense of the word with an oily countenance and who had been in Voldemort's pocket even longer than the rather unlamented Fudge. Vice-minsiter really was an overlooked job, something of an overglorified secretary, with a dozen times the work and no credit. It made Dringley a prime candidate for Minister with allegiance to Voldemort. Had there been someone with morals in the vice-minister position, Voldemort would have seen that they declined the position. Now the self-styled Lord would gleefully hand out the assignments to his zealous minions with the mockingly stern admonition to 'have fun.' It was just like all those years ago. Only now, Severus's eyes did not shine with the same delusional fervor as his compatriots. Oh, on the outside they did- he was too good of a spy to let his disgust show. But inside his heart, another piece of his soul began to wither. By the end of the night, when he went to scrub the invisible blood from his hands and set down his wand buzzing from Dark Magick….by the end of the night it would have died completely. He was lucky, he supposed- for in his world luck was measured a bit differently than sane people might- that he had not had to go to the Weasley's house. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George- all his former students. Hell raisers, yes, but brimming with a vitality of life and a happiness that he had never had- and could not wish extinguished. Voldemort had underestimated his opponents' power once again, as was one of his greatest failings, for he believed no one was as good as those who served him. He sent too few Death Eaters to the Weasleys, and Snape was grimly proud of the family that dispatched them to the Hell they belonged to. Snape himself, being the favoured pet that he was, had been given his choice of victims. He wanted so badly to pick one of the two people on the 'hit list' with no family, but forced himself to choose one with a moderately sized family instead. He begged off the Weasleys by telling Lord Voldemort that he would be afraid of laughing every time he saw either of the younger Weasleys with tearstained faces, and there was no point in risking his trusted position within the Order for such a trifling matter as a Weasley life. After all, why did it matter who killed them? Voldemort had given a hearty laugh and waved off he and Pettigrew to 'take care' of Alfred Pettiwnkle, his wife, and his two small children. Alfred was a damned nuisance, according to Malfoy's reports, always trying to ferret out Death Eaters within the ministry. The man was also actually intelligent and hard working, and so was included in this first wave of killings. Their Master had assured them that there would be many more in the future. Because Pettigrew was only able to kill something that could barely dodge his weak Killing Curses, he insisted on killing the boys, whose room was unhappily close to the entrance of the house that Snape blew his way through as loudly as he could. He was hoping to alert the adults so that they could run, but it was to no avail. The woman had screamed and run to her already cooling children, right between he and Pettigrew, and Snape had mechanically cast the curse in front of Pettigrew's beady rat eyes. And those eyes had looked on longingly as he quickly and emotionlessly murdered the husband who had followed frantically close on his wife's heels.
***
Hermione was staring at the book. She was reading the words, and she was writing notes, and on some level she was even paying attention to what she was doing. But on another, she was reliving breakfast that morning.
Ron looked up with a smile as he saw the family owl winging its way to the Gryffindor table along with the rest of the school's mail. Everywhere, students were tearing open their packages and letters and Daily Prophets. Hermione herself was unfolding her Prophet, when she heard Ginny's shriek from a few seats down. The girl had hovered eagerly over Ron's shoulder as he cheerfully, unsuspectingly, opened the letter, and could not control her anguish at the words inscribed within. A glance at the headline of the newspaper in her hands confirmed Hermione's guess, although it was better (and oh, but what choices were given in war time; bad or worse) than she had dared hope. None of the Weasleys were dead, and that was a blessing. But it was a scary reminder of just how vulnerable the students and their families were, and Hermione had practically run down the dungeon stairs to begin this research after dinner. Anything that would hasten this war to its end. As the news floated through the Great Hall, she had searched for Harry before she could stop herself. She found him on the opposite side of the table. He was a little bit apart from everyone else somehow, though he sat in the middle of the long row of Gryffindors. His hand, no longer that of a boy's, gripped his glass of juice so hard that even the sturdy cup could not withstand the force and it shattered, leaving a dark stain across the too pale flesh. She was too far away to be able to tell whether the liquid that dripped from his hand and pooled onto the table was the juice or his blood. The Gryffindor table was torn between wanting to administer to Harry or find out what exactly was going on. Hermione did not even stop to think, but immediately launched herself around the table to the not-quite-man who had once been one of her best friends. He sat there numbly, his eyes a burning green as they stared at his hands covered in his blood. She quickly and efficiently cleaned and bandaged the thin cuts that crossed his hands, using some spells she had learned the summer after her fourth year, when she had realized some of the things she would need to know in a wizard's war. She never once looked up at his face. By the time she was done with that, leaving him still looking at nothing and thinking about everything with a pile of glass slivers sitting next to him, Ron and Ginny had broken the poignant familial tableau and had resumed communication with the rest of the table. She pushed her way through the crowd to her friend, knowing that he needed someone who knew what his home was like. Someone who could sit and would understand precisely how inviolate the Burrow had always seemed; a zany, quirky fortress. She needed to be there, alongside Ella, who had come as fast as she could, as the last remnants of his childhood naïveté fell from him. As the three hustled out of the buzzing Hall, Ron wrapped in the embraces of the two girls who flanked him, Hermione spared a quick glance to make sure that Ginny was all right, with her own friends there beside her- and a longer look at the High Table. Snape had appeared at breakfast as usual. Only someone looking as closely at him as Hermione was, even as she rushed away from him, would have noticed the increase of dark shadows and lines seemingly permanently etched onto his countenance.
Snape shifted in his chair, realizing that if he did not shift his thoughts to at least a marginally happier venue, a breakdown was eminent. Usually he had at least a little bit of time to compose himself before shifting into his second role, but he had gone straight from Pettiwinkle's house to Lord Voldemort's feet, and had only time for a shower before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. He would have loved to skip it, just once, but he could ill afford to take such an unusual action. At least he was not known for indulging in hearty morning meals. He would no doubt have merely thrown anything but coffee straight back up, something he was loath to do even if he did know it would give his students great joy. He felt the shadows begin to creep into his mind, carrying with them the faces of his victims. Happier thoughts, he thought to himself, anything. Well, at least the Weasley family had been the only one with students who attended Hogwarts that was attacked- again thanks to some misinformation on his part which would hopefully be traced back to Ellison Englebert, a Death Eater who was loyal to the core. Voldemort would follow the fake trail that Snape had left him, and find the fake traitor. The double agent did this planting of evidence as often as he dared, but it was not much. Still, every little bit counted when one Death Eater alive might mean two or three innocent people, muggle or otherwise, tortured or killed. Snape had long since buried any compassion for those arrogant fools who still clung to outdated views and outdated would-be dictators. He heard a small sigh and the rustle of a page from the seat on his right, where Hermione was settled, her short legs curled around the tall wooden lab stool. He glanced over and saw at once that she was not doing her work, but simply rubbing a page with her fingers as her mind ran off on some other thought. Though his mind had wandered as well, he was experienced enough to divide his mind and perform almost any task while he was thinking about something else. And his temper snapped.
"Miss. Granger! I have obviously mistaken your dedication to this project. I had thought that you were willing to work through this information, regardless of how 'unnecessary' it may seem." His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, but the tone was not the silky chastisement of the classroom. It was the passionate shout of someone at the end of the rope, worse even than her third year and what had become known as 'the Shrieking Shack Incident.' "Your lack of thought in this project could mean the difference between success and failure, and since you have obviously failed to comprehend that, Granger, it means lives. It means that every second you are sitting here, but not engaged in this task, one person, ten people, for heaven's sake twenty people may lose their lives because—of—your—inattention. That may be a price that you are willing to take, but I am afraid that I refuse to jeopardize this project. Your presence has become a distraction, and a very unwelcome one at that. Leave." By the end of his tirade, his voice had quieted from a shout, but had not lost a whit of its intensity. The result was that the last word was said with such deadly force that Hermione turned whiter than she already was. The only color on her face was in the two small pink blotches on her cheeks, but Snape never saw them because he turned away from the girl in a calculated and cold dismissal. The Head Girl's hands balled up into fists at her side and clenched until the skin stretched achingly tight across her knuckles. Sometime during his speech she had stood up, and she now found herself facing his black-clad back. And then Hermione did something that she had never thought she would do to, or even in front of, a teacher.
"You bastard. You fucking bastard. Screaming at me about dedication to the cause when I know damned well that my parents could be the very next victims thrust prematurely into Death's grip? Screaming at me about not realizing the cost of inattention when my very own fucking best friend almost found himself an orphan because of that shit Voldemort? Telling me that I am willing to take risks to other people for my own pleasure when I have risked my life, alongside Harry and Ron, every year since I came into this damned place? What a joke, professor, what a joke. And a distraction, you say? Or can't you stand having someone around here who is actually focused on their task, instead of going off on stupid pity trips all the time? Is that it sir?" But Hermione had gone too far that time, and in a moment found herself closer to her Potions Professor than she had ever thought about in her wildest nightmares, the blank shield that usually protected his eyes from the rest of the world- and vice-versa- dropped for a moment. She saw the swirling black maelstrom of hatred and self-loathing and disgust and cynicism and pride and she wanted to look away but she was hypnotized. She forgot to breathe, so entranced was she, her ears wishing they could crawl away and hide from the shout he was sure to give in defense of himself.
"Yes, Miss. Granger. That is completely, exactly, the reason. So if you will excuse me," he hissed softly, like the snake from the Serpent's Den that he was. And with that, his strong hands had seized her robe-covered arms in a crushingly hard grip and bodily picked her up and thrust her out the door of their research room. She stumbled hard when he set her down, and by the time she recovered, the door was closed. She didn't bother trying to physically open the door, but it was just as failed a venture to try using the password that should have broken his wards. He had changed it, and she would not be let in, perhaps ever again.
Hermione stared blankly at the door, closed firmly, her mind unable to choose a course of action. What she wanted to do was scream and fling hexes at the impenetrable piece of wood until her voice was hoarse and he came out and confronted her. But she knew that would be foolhardy and futile. Still, a confrontation was necessary. He didn't realize that this was her only way of helping in the war. Ron had Ella and Ginny to keep him from going crazy from being prevented from the war, but Harry had already succumbed to something like madness. She herself had placed all of her energy and hopes on this project, safe in the knowledge that it really was something helpful to the Cause. But without it, she knew that she would be in eminent danger of turning into Harry; cold and distant and more than a little inhuman in her lack of power. He had to let her help, he had to! Hermione took a deep breath to compose herself, but it ended in a hitch as she strove vainly to keep herself from giving in to heart rending sobs. It wasn't even just about this project, anymore. The stress of the whole situation, from her parents' and friends' danger, to her own, to Snape's, to the fact that there was an evil madman running loose with a dedicated group of followers while she was stuck here, unable to do anything to save the world she knew she was born to be part of. She slumped to the ground, feeling the coldness of the dungeons in the winter seep into her bones as it had never done when she worked down here in Severus's presence. Her school robes were not that thin, but neither were they prepared to withstand Hogwart's Dungeons near the middle of November. She attempted to wrap herself in the black folds. Hot, salty tears still coursed silently down her face, cooling as the came into contact with the chilly air and ending up, cold and bitter as so many things were, in her mouth. She scrubbed them away irately, then settled down to wait for what she suspected might be some time.
Severus Snape glared at the door for a long time, his heart racing wildly and her frenzied accusations ringing in his ears. And yet there had been no truth to her statements, in reality. And he knew that she knew that, and had acted, as he had, from stress and the irrational anger borne from aforementioned stress. But there was no denying that her presence had, indeed, become a distraction. And since she apparently knew of his status as a double agent, it was best for all concerned that her contact with him be limited as possible. Who knew what twisted things Voldemort might come up with if he found out that Severus was spending time with the girl outside of the classroom? Severus performed a quick breathing exercise that had been necessary to learn in his line of business, where a lot of emotion got you and most likely a hell of a lot of other people killed. He had himself under control in moments, and simply put the matter of his mind. He returned to his seat and the book that he had been working on before the debacle, and carefully resumed his research. And if he realized that he was studiously avoiding looking at the empty chair on his right, he indicated no such thing to himself. The hours slipped away as he buried himself in work until he was physically unable to work any longer, having gone without sleep for about two whole days. A time charm told him that it was around two in the morning. He got up and did a bone cracking stretch before bookmarking the tome he had been reading before his eyes had become unable to focus properly. He straightened the stack of books up, hardly realizing that he carefully bookmarked Miss. Granger's book and set her notes on top of it the way he had noticed she liked to do. He opened the thick door- and despite the gloom of the dungeons when the torches had burnt down low, his sharp eyes immediately fell upon a softly sleeping Hermione Granger, seated directly across from the door.
Okay, well, I hope that it is getting somewhere, and that people are still reading. Real Life was terrible this past week, namely my math, but since its all over, I am taking up the time that ought to be used to get ready for a banquet tonight, and doing this. So, I appreciate my readers a lot:
Mavra: I'm glad…yes, tortured souls are ever so much fun to write. YUM! The muses went into happy shocks thanks to your cookies. Please let me know if you got the email reply so I know its working. Thanks ever so much for your specific comments about what you likedJ
Madeleine Jete: Gosh, it doesn't matter if your reviews *did* all sound the same (which they don't, by the way); I love hearing from you. Glad you liked that thought to talk transition, I was worried it was a little weird.
Bridie: Thanks very much
Fairy Thimbles: Sort of a combination of both, I suppose. They have naturally conflicting personalities because they are so similar. Yeah, that probably would have worked better, but she doesn't want to tell Dumbledore that Harry is a prat, and even if she did, there was no guarantee that that would sway the man at all. He's rather firm on this subject. Thanks for giving me the chance to clarify, I hope it helps and lends credibility to the story.
Anya: Woohoo, thanks!
DragonRose: Heehee: ask me questions and thou shalt receive answers. Oh, well…I suppose that is a thought, but I have seen terrible stories with hundreds of reviews (scares me honestly). Thanks for the confidence, though!!
HunnySnowBunny: Well, I knew I was brilliant already, but….no honestly, thanks ever so for that compliment. Oh, drooly teeny-bopper-esque or not, the we love Snape club (heehee) is active and large. Glad you liked it, and hope you still do.
Xanthos: I'm jealous as well! SO glad that you think I have a balance, that's what I'm going for, after all! Wow, 'flow seamlessly'…there are several people who have written me such incredible reviews I could print them out and use them as mega-self-esteem boosters. Oh, god; I know the feeling. That was why I was so insecure a few chapters ago- I had been reading some rather unskilled authors and it scared me that I was like them, so thanks incredibly much for alleviating my fears. Rants are fine, and I hoper this update meets with your approval!
Samson: Glad you like my characterizations, although I must admit that I don't think Harry will stay this way forever, since I *don't* happen to hate him. Hope you don't hate that. Thanks for your comments, though.
Deu: Thank you, and I am glad that you can wait.
Liquid Euphoria: The story made your day? Wow, I'm glad that you like it!
Evermind: Don't worry, I will eventually complete this story, I just can't make any promises about when the updates will come, sorry. Please let me know if you received your update notice so I know it's working. Glad you agree with my take it slow plot; I don't see a teacher student romantic relationship developing all that fast.
Eclectic Moone: Oh, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside (as my friend would say, that's probably the kittens I ate earlier. He's oddJ) I am so incredibly glad that you understand where I am coming from and what I am trying to write/get to; its cool explaining things, but knowing that some people get it is nice. Hey, I'm all with the hypocriticalness, its all goodJ And yeah, sometimes you need to take a break, and that's cool. Hope you enjoy this chapter; its coming late not because I needed a break, but because I had no time to write. If you miss chapters, would you want to be on my mailing list? If not, that's cool, but it might make it easier on you if you wanted to continue following this story.
Anndy Malfoy: And so I do!