"So are you going to do it?" asked Ron, wide-eyed. Harry's face was expressionless, as though deep in deducting the appropriate decision.
"It's Harry's blood," answered Hermione softly. "His to give……."
"What if You-Know-Who himself shows up?" demanded Ron, as he brushed some crumbs off his robes. "Blood magic? And what if it's Snape?"
"Think, Ron!" said Hermione exasperatedly. "If it is Snape, then he is going to die, unless You-Know-Who gets his token of loyalty. And if Snape's dead-"
"Who cares if Snape's dead?" asked Ron hotly. He was incensed by Hermione's readiness to defend the invidious professor, and even more so by the way she was disagreeing with him because of Snape.
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, his eyes clouded. Harry knew that it was possible that the Order might lose a member that very night, and frankly, he wouldn't be mourning for too long, if the afore-said fellow was Snape. That gaunt man had given him too much unpleasant moments, for the past seven years, and Harry was very well aware that Snape was the one who 'goaded' Sirius to his death.
"No," he said blankly, avoiding his friends' eyes. Hermione leapt to her feet upsetting her glass of water all over the table. Ron smiled smugly, at the ominous thought of the Potions Master at Voldemort's mercy.
"Fine," said Hermione calmly, her brown eyes expelling nothing but frost, as she spoke. "And I thought that I was foolish enough to lap up his pleas. The Order's already short of one number, Harry. Do you want to lose another, in less than a year?"
"He made Sirius feel inferior," burst Harry, as he clenched his fists with all his might, to prevent them from shaking. "Indirectly, he killed my godfather!"
*****************************************************
Snape paced around the floor of his dungeon-like office, his hands folded behind his back. This has gone too far, he thought, a tinge of regret haunting his consciousness. Yes, my time is coming up…….but I shouldn't have involved a student. What a disappointment I am to Dumbledore. But letting people down isn't a new feat for me. My father never once said that I was his son. The 'Golden Years of Youth', all wasted on solitary existence. Friends, family. I embraced my 'family' at the first glimmer of appreciation. Death Eaters…..at least they made me feel like part of them. But not anymore. Even the Order is starting to see me as a dispensable wand-bearer. Live, die, it does not matter. But she does.
The hand of the clock was just about to signal the arrival of the witching hour, and Snape was more restless than ever. He wanted to flee, from the forsaken world, from the clutches of his twice-born Master. As Severus Snape looked out of his window, at the dark, misty, starless sky, he realised, that after years of denial, he was jaded.
A tap on the glass broke him free from his despondent thoughts, as Acteon the Great Horned Owl rapped the smudged glass soundly with a nefariously curved beak. Snape smiled, when he saw that the mandible was tinted scarlet, a sign that the winged predator had fed on some unfortunate prey.
"Just in time," he murmured, heaving the heavy window open. Acteon tilted his head, allowing the disquieting-looking wizard to place a dragon-hide pouch around his thick, feathery neck.
"The same girl, my friend," hissed Snape. "It is she, whom you would seek. The one who bears the only antidote that would bring me back from the grips of His venom. Seek her, Acteon, and you might not lose a friend, after all."
************************************************
Hermione's nose tingled, as she wrapped Harry's Invisible Cloak tightly around herself. It wouldn't do, to catch a cold-not when she was about to break every rule in the book just to help a desperate man. Why am I helping him? Is it pity that moves my heart or….?
"Hey," muttered a disgruntled voice that reeked of bitterness. "You're not the only one who requires invisibility, you know."
"Sorry," said Hermione curtly, not meaning it at all. He had not quite forgiven Ron for their earlier dissension, and as for Harry…..
"I thought that you might be a little more grateful, seeing that I went through all that unnecessary trouble to sneak this cloak out from under his pillow," said a very sulky voice, whose speaker was unseen.
"Thank you then," snapped Hermione, as she made sure that the portrait hole was once again shut, leaving no apostate marks that a very nervous girl had just broke her curfew. "What about the blood?"
"I got it," groused Ron under his breath. "This stinger made him slap his arm like a pinched pig, but like you said, he never woke up."
"It's not a stinger, you knothead," said Hermione, although she had to conceal a smile. "It's called a syringe, and yes, he didn't felt anything because my Obtorpescio potion isn't as weak as yours," she answered matter-of-factly. "Looks like taking Potions for NEWTS isn't so irrelevant after all, eh?"
"Remind me why I'm doing this," said Ron calmly, shivering like a prairie dog. He hated to admit it, but he owed Hermione's potion for his stealth. Ron shuddered, remembering the pure ruby blood that flew smoothly into the syringe, and the way Harry's eyes all but fluttered open. He was so jittery that he emptied the entire bottle of Obtorpescio potion onto Harry's arm, and watched as the transparent liquid seeped into his friend's skin before his very eyes.
"You're doing this because you know as well as I do that if Snape dies, Harry would go soon after. Do you honestly think that Dumbledore stopped Harry from going to Hogsmead the week a massacre was reported purely because he was paranoid? Or that the Dementors stormed into the Tree Broomsticks the day Harry was in the Hog's Head Inn because they were confused? Maybe, the arresting of Jeeves Hayden, a Death Eater three days ago was just another coincidence. Wake up, would you? Harry's fine and dandy because someone's risking his life out there, and I don't mean Cornelius Fudge that puppet!"
"Fine," said Ron, squeezing his eyes shut. "Take this," he whispered, thrusting the vial of blood into his friend's hand. "I don't want to hold a vampire-attracting parcel."
********************************************************************
Acteon watched, with his calculating eyes, for the arrival of Hermione. He couldn't see her, that was undeniable, but as a bird of prey, his secondary senses were heightened considerably, to the point of sheer accuracy. But as Hermione and Ron edged towards the owlery, Acteon, perched atop an ash, turned his head in suspicion. He could not swerve his eyes, but he knew the direction of which a new, fresh scent was coming from. Acteon prepared to take off, and collect his burden, but more then a minute later, his wings were still folded.
Acteon the One-Eyed sensed not one, but two trespassers. Something was wrong.
*******************************************************************
Snape leapt up, when he saw the huge owl at his windowsill. His heart plummeted like am unmanned broomstick when he realised that the pouch was empty. "So she did not come?" he asked softly, stroking the bird's head with a quivering finger. "But that does not take me by surprise…."
Snape sighed gustily, and ran a hand through his greasy locks. I might as well write a final letter, he mused resentfully. And tell her that she will lie awake for many days, ridden with guilt at the death of her friend…….and mine.
But as he returned to his usual post at his cluttered desk, a low, rumbling hoot sought its way into his ears. "What is it?" he asked, dipping his quill into a bottle of scarlet ink. The colour of spilt blood, he thought rancorously. My blood.
Acteon darted from the window onto Snape's shoulder, making the man scream out in pain. "WHAT is it?" he roared, grabbing at a handful of rags to stall the blood that seeped out from his wounded shoulders. Acteon's dagger-like talons were not blunt.
The hunter on flew to and fro towards the door, as though taunting Snape to follow him. He pecked at the pouch on the table, emitting a hauntingly bloodthirsty sound.
Snape took a deep breath, and inserted his wand into his pocket. "Don't you dare lead me onto a wild goose chase," he threatened. "Or I shall take back the life that I saved last winter."
Acteon stared into Snape's black eyes unflinchingly. Behind him, laid the pathway to Snape's survival, and the turning point of Hermione Granger's life.
*******************************
"I think that bird is looking at me," whispered Ron, as he and Hermione huddled under a tree by the owlery. Hermione glanced at the nasty-looking creature, and slapped at a mosquito.
"Honestly, Ron," she said impatiently. "I didn't know that you are an ornithophobic."
But she, too, felt a series of chills travel up her spine, as the owl stared unblinkingly at her.
"He's coming," said Ron in a panicky vice, as Acteon spread his immense wings and swooped towards him. "That bird is coming to get me!"
Hermione was about to tell Ron not to be silly, when Acteon collided with her friend's head. It was not a piercing attack, like he used to strike rivals such as falcons. On the contrary, it was the sheer force of momentum that delivered the crushing impact through Ron's skull. But when Ron fell to the ground, clutching his head, Acteon, too, dropped like a dead hare. He had done his last task for the one who saved him.
Hermione knelt beside Ron, and threw off the Invisibility Cloak. Disbelief washed over her, but she knew that the owl was, indeed, aiming for Ron, and it was not a random freak accident.
"Ron!" she called, as her freckled friend let out a moan. She saw that a tiny orifice was created, at the spot where Ron's head met Acteon's beak.
******************************
"He will live," said a cold voice, a monotonous one that reminded Hermione of the prisoners of Azkaban. So unfeeling, and downright chilling. She drew in a breath. Whipping her head around, Hermione could see no one. And then she realised……Harry's cloak was gone!
"But I wouldn't," said the voice. It strongly reminded her of Snape, but she had no proof. Hermione felt like crying, at the sight of her the mess. Ron was still clutching his head, but he said nothing.
"Here's your blood…….Peregrinus," she shouted at no one in particular. "And may it do you good."
"Thank you," said the voice, as the vial of blood vanished from her outstretched hand. She felt, for a moment, as though a ghost had swept pass her, creating a small rush of wind, making her robes rustle.
"But owe me your identity," said Hermione trembling in the chill of the night. "Are you…..Professor Snape?"
But he was gone.
**************************
Hermione awoke the next day, and was promptly summoned into Professor McGonagall's office. The Transfiguration teacher old her that someone had left a parcel for her, a misshapen bundle. When she opened it, the Invisibility Cloak's shimmery texture unravelled itself, but as she took it out, a letter fell at her feet. One last letter, a final one.
"You took my father's cloak?" asked Harry quietly. Hermione wished he had not spoken, as the sound of his voice accused her of more treachery than a thousand screams. "And you stole my blood?"
"She…..she didn't," said another voice, just as embittered. "I did." Ron, his head bandaged, sat up in his bed, and shook his head at Hermione, motioning for her to remain silent. "I was the one……I used the Obtorpescio potion, and stuck a stinger into you. So yeah, I'd say that I was the one."
"Ron," said Harry, as he sighed. "Hermione, you're more righteous than that. Do you mind telling me what, and how did that happen?"
"I don't," she smiled. "It all started with a letter, and ended with one."
*******************************************
Dear Hermione,
Today, you shall be more than the insufferable know-it-all that had plagued me mercilessly all those years. Today, a new chapter is written, in which the story of our paths will finally be straightened out.
First, I must thank you for your little gift. Yes, I am allowed to walk this land a little longer, and I might even say that I will live to see you 'graduate'. Frown not, Hermione, for this wouldn't be the last encounter. Yes, this is the last letter, but it certainly wouldn't be the final chapter.
I have decided to be patient, as forbearance is a virtue. Mellowed out, you might call it. I shall not sign this letter, Hermione. I can no longer be your Stranger, and I don't want to remain one. But this is where our paths end. However, there is always a possibility that sometime later, maybe after the Final Battle, someone will come along, and continue those paths. And who knows? Perhaps they might intertwine once again.
Animo
_________________________________________________________________
THE END
_______________________________________________________________
Glossary:
Animo: Having life/alive
Amor: Love
Amator: A friend/admirer
Caminus: A large forge/hearth
Caritas: Affection
Consanesco: To become healthy
Crutio: To torture/torment
Depereo: To perish in love
Efflo: To breathe out/blow out
Furor: Madness
Lucrum: avarice
Obtorpesco: To become stiff/numb/insensible
Occulo: Private/concealed/secrecy
Veritas: Truth
AND
Peregrinus: Stranger