Title: Follow Her Nightmare
Notes: See Epilogue
Chapter Four – Another Time Piecing yourself back together
Once she managed to pull herself to bed, Hermione slept badly. Her body, battered by the thugs earlier in the evening, was refusing to respond to the healing potion Severus had left out for her. The cut in her side was beginning to itch as well as ache; and it didn't take long to realise the ache had spread beyond her side. Hermione fidgeted in the bed – she was beginning to feel like one big bruise. She had, she concluded, been hurt quite a bit.
When she managed to drift off to sleep, her mind was invaded by a series of horrid nightmares. One moment she was running down a corridor with flickering lights and no perceivable end. The next moment she was stuck in a dark, cramped room where the walls seemed to be coming in on her and she was never quite sure if she was alone. Then she was being interrogated, tied down and tortured by a group of evil wizards with mocking laughter. She woke up sweating; they were the same dreams, she realised, she'd had in the months after leaving Hogwarts.
As she lay awake – in too much pain (and too disturbed by the nightmares) to sleep – the argument with Snape replayed through her head. Had she really called him a git? Had he really accused her of sleeping with him because she couldn't do better? Was he wrong? (Of course he was wrong, he'd have to be.) Was he right?
There was, as far as Hermione could see, no way the pair of them would be able to overlook the argument, no way they would be able to put aside the harsh words they'd thrown at each other, to resume the relationship that had begun to mean something to her.
"Good work, Hermione," she mumbled to herself.
Just before dawn her thoughts and nightmares got the better of her, and she realised any attempt at sleep would be futile. There was a large pile of books waiting for her attention in the study; she had stored them there during the Christmas holidays, anticipating a long summer of study and writing. There were, she had thought with maybe a little too much optimism, at least five publishable papers among the information she had collected.
No time like now to get started, she thought as she rolled over out of bed and stood up. She'd already lost a week to this ridiculous investigation – and all she had to show for it were injuries and a broken relationship. It was time to return to the things she trusted.
She left the bedroom with some trepidation, afraid Severus would be awake and waiting for her, ready to resume the fight she'd walked out on. It was difficult not to sigh with relief when she found him lying awkwardly on the couch in her sitting room; his eyes shut and his breathing deep and regular. She tiptoed past him, heading for the kitchen. If she was lucky she might even be able to make herself a cup of tea without waking him.
"Good morning, Professor Granger." His voice pierced the air, laden with the vitriol he usually reserved for his most detested students.
She turned back to look at him. "Good morning, Professor Snape."
He was propped up on the couch, his face contorted into one of his most fearsome glares. He wasn't over the fight either, she realised.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
She ignored him, walking into the kitchen and putting the kettle on. The sun was beginning to shimmer outside, making the dingy buildings look much more appealing. The kettle whistled and she made herself a steaming cup of tea.
"I shall be spending the day in my study," she announced. "I have some work I wish to complete today. I refuse to allow this madness to take over my entire life. We can return to the investigation tomorrow."
Severus nodded. "Fine."
She took the tea to her study, refusing to look back at him as she closed the door.
It was remarkably easy to fall back into the routine of study. Hermione had a large pile of archaic texts she wanted to go through, papers and parchments that had been discovered in some long forgotten corner of the British Museum. She hoped to find some information on ancient transfiguration methods within them, some snippet of information that, when published, would help her really make her name.
She didn't think of Harry or Ron or the investigation.
She didn't think of Severus.
"Come for a walk with me," Severus said from the doorway. He sounded tired, exhausted even, and she wondered if she sounded just as weary. She checked the tiny clock hanging above her desk, surprised to see it was already late afternoon.
"I really can't," she said. "I'd like to get this finished. I think I'm close to cracking it, I'm almost there."
"Leave it." His voice was harsh and Hermione found herself pulling away from him. He shook his head, irritated, and held his hand out to her, his voice softer. "Please?"
"Isn't your leg hurting? How can you walk on that? And my ribs are definitely bruised. I can't see how we can manage it." Hermione picked up her pen and looked at her translation. There was, she noted, a mistake in the last sentence.
"My leg is fine. And you can have some more healing potion if you wish. There's some in what you laughingly call a kitchen."
"I'll be alright. You know I hate that stuff."
"Come for a walk."
"Fine."
It was dark by the time they made it outside and there was quite a chill in the air. Hermione pulled her light wrap closer around her, wishing once again that she'd bothered to buy heavier muggle clothing.
Severus breathed deeply and she looked at him. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for the things I said last night," he said.
"You know you were right," she said, "about some of the things, anyway."
"Possibly."
She lifted up her chin to watch his face, feeling like an anxious, young witch. She watched him shudder slightly and wandered what he was thinking.
"I used to be harder," he muttered.
"I know."
He veered them away from the noisy, crowded pathway, through a tunnel of closely growing trees. The silence was beginning to grow painful and, for one fleeting moment, Hermione wanted to reach for his hand. But that wasn't the way they acted. They weren't that kind of people.
"What are we doing?" he asked.
Hermione sighed. "We're trying to figure out who killed Harry and why."
"Should we go home and work on that?"
She turned around, joining him as they walked back towards the pathway and the people. "I think that would be a good idea."
Severus joined Hermione in the study to contemplate the information they had collated. They spread it out across her work table and Hermione realised they really didn't know much at all. Everything they had was sketchy, based on poor information or just plain rumours.
"It's a real pity that nothing came of that manuscript you were translating." Hermione sighed, "I suppose we'll have to wait until we talk to your friend tomorrow."
Severus snorted. "Xenios Arden is not my friend. He's an informant. He's a mad, alcoholic historian, an expert on all sorts of arcane wizarding knowledge."
"And you think he'll be able to help us?"
"If he can't then I doubt anyone will be able to."
Hermione stretched out, letting her arms drop across the table. Severus reached forward, absently running a finger down her arm. "I still think Lucius Malfoy must be involved," she said, laying her head between her arms.
"I can't see Lucius behind this." Severus leant back in his chair. "It hasn't got the Malfoy style."
"You're thinking of the Lucius Malfoy you remember when you were younger. You're forgetting that he's changed, that he's lost his only son and spent a good amount of time in Azkaban. Everything he valued was taken from him . . ."
". . . and by all accounts, he's quite insane." Severus finished. "I understand that. I just think there's more to this. It can't be that simple."
"Since when was anything about Harry Potter simple?" Hermione said. "There are days when I think it would have been an awful lot easier if I'd never met him at all."
He woke her early, shaking her shoulder when she tried to retreat further under the covers. She yawned and sat up, surprised to see him already dressed.
"What time is it?" she asked.
Severus pulled the covers from her and handed her a set of robes. "It's six in the morning. We'll need to leave soon. I want to get to Xenios' place before he starts drinking. There's nothing worse than dealing with a drunk historian."
Hermione stood up, taking the robes from Severus. "I suppose the earlier we get on with this, the quicker we get it over and done with."
Severus sat on the edge of her bed. "Why is this such a great inconvenience for you? I understand my own reluctance to investigate the Potter family, but I don't really understand yours."
Hermione picked up a hair brush from her dresser and began pulling it through her hair. "I suppose," she began, "I feel guilty. I shouldn't have allowed myself to lose contact with Harry and Ginny like I did. I shouldn't have become so involved in the theoretical that I forgot about the practical things. Maybe, if I had been closer I would have been able to help. Maybe, then, Harry wouldn't have died."
"And maybe he still would have died and you would feel guilty because you didn't do enough."
Hermione nodded, turning back to look at him. "I worry this investigation will lead to bigger problems and greater commitments. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. I'm quite happy with my life just the way it is."
"That's a rather selfish way to think of things," Severus said, standing up.
"I fear I've become a rather selfish person."
Xenios Arden lived in Knockturn Alley, his rooms situated above a dirty (and quite possibly illegal) artifacts store. Hermione had visited Knockturn Alley once or twice before, but the place had always made her feel uncomfortable, like there was danger lurking in every corner. She really wasn't looking forward to making a return visit.
They apparated to Diagon Alley, arriving as a few of the shops began to open. One or two of the shop keepers looked curiously at Severus and Hermione, but Severus moved swiftly, navigating them to the tiny pathway that led to Knockturn Alley.
Unlike Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley was full of people. A group of scantily clad prostitutes teetered down the street, their bags jangling. A drunk stumbled over a loose stone and fell forward, catching himself in a doorway, before sliding down to the stones and falling asleep. A group of wizards in dirty robes leered and grabbed at Hermione as she passed, only letting go as Severus drew out his wand.
Xenios was waiting for them at the entrance to his rooms. He stood up unnaturally straight, his body draped in worn grey robes. His white hair stood up straight in the front and fell in waves down the back, brushing against his dirty shirt collar. His eyes were rimmed in red and his smile was crooked. All in all, he was possibly one of the strangest creatures Hermione had ever seen.
"Xenios." Severus said.
Xenios' smile grew larger and more terrifying. "Severus Snape."
"You're not drinking yet?" Severus asked.
"Silly boy, Severus." He laughed. "You know I never drink before eight in the morning." he turned to Hermione. "It's a rule."
Hermione allowed herself to smile a little as she held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."
Xenios took her hand and brought it to his lips. "So you are, so you are," he muttered. "You should put something on those ribs, girl," he glared at Severus, "you would think this one would know enough to do that."
"You know why we are here, don't you Xenios?"
"Of course, of course." Xenios giggled, a high pitched, girlish noise that startled and surprised Hermione. "You want to know why Harry Potter died."
"Yes, we do," Hermione leaned forward. "You can tell us that, can't you?"
"I wouldn't be too concerned with Harry Potter." Xenios shook his head. "No, not at all. It's his children I'd be worried about."
"His son," Hermione corrected. "Harry only had one child."
"You're talking about the unborn child, as well." Severus said, looking at Xenios.
Xenios nodded. "Harry Potter's dead, they can't hurt him anymore. It's the children they'll want to hurt now."
"But why?" Hermione said "I mean, they're innocent, aren't they?"
"They have the power!" Xenios' eyes shone with glee. "But they don't have the protection. I'd worry about them. They're in terrible danger."
Severus put a hand over Hermione's. "Xenios," he said, "why are the Potters in such terrible danger?"
"It's the power!" Xenios reached forward and grabbed Hermione's shoulder. "If you kill a Potter, then you get their power!"
"Xenios!" Severus pulled him away from Hermione. "Calm down immediately. You must know more about this. Tell me what you know!"
Xenios pulled his wand from his robes and circled the room, picking books out at random from the book shelves, sending them across the room to the tiny desk in the corner. "It was Harry Potter's great grandfather's fault, you know." Xenios paused. "Or was it his great, great grandfather? Doesn't matter," Xenios picked out one last book and flounced across the room to the desk. "Whoever it was, he had to go off galavanting around Siberia when he was just a lad. He should have known he'd run into something rotten up there. You can't exist in that kind of climate without resorting to some powerful magics. And we know the Potters just can't leave well enough alone." He chuckled. "Apparently he thought some girl was in danger. Potter went and got himself extra power to deal with it – sold his soul from what I hear. It was all a ruse, of course. No one was in danger at all."
"The Potter family took on some sort of magic from Siberia?" Severus folded his arms across his chest. "That seems a little unlikely, don't you think?"
Xenios opened a heavy book. "You know I can't change history, Severus. And you've heard all the rumours about the Potter family. You know this explains it."
"So the Potter family are in danger." Hermione stood up. "The Potters have some strange power, other people want it, and that's why Harry was killed. So we've solved our investigation. It's over."
"Not quite." Severus looked straight at Xenios, his eyes steady and unwavering. "This information isn't on the public record. Whoever killed Harry must have hunted it down. Xenios has had a visitor before us, haven't you?"
Xenios smiled. "I help anyone who comes to me."
"Like Lucius Malfoy?"
"Blond man, slightly insane," Xenios nodded. "He came to me earlier this year. Wanted to know all about the Potter family."
"And you helped him!" Hermione cried.
"I help anyone who comes to me." Xenios turned back to his desk. "You can leave now."
"But . . ."
Severus placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's go home."
The minute they returned to Hermione's place, Severus went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea. She sat in the sitting room, her limbs feeling heavy and numb. She felt like a weight had dropped on her from a great height.
"It could have been worse," Severus brought the cup out to her.
She nodded. "I know."
He took a folded piece of paper from the folds of his robes. Dumbledore sent this to me yesterday. It makes a great deal more sense now."
Hermione took it from him. "What is it?" she asked, unable to decipher the handwriting.
"Another one of Trelawny's predictions." Severus shrugged. "It confirms it. The Potter children will need some protection."
"Is it time to see the Minister."
"Severus nodded. "I think so."
"So, it seems that Harry was killed in order to gain this great power." Severus leant forward and placed the folded parchment in front of McGonagall. "Albus sent this to me yesterday. Another one of Trelawney's predictions."
McGonagall read through it quickly, her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed. When she reached the end, she folded the parchment over again. "And you believe it was Lucius Malfoy?"
Hermione nodded. "It seems that was the case. We don't know all the details – without Lucius himself, I don't think we'll ever really know it all. But we know he's still alive and we know he sought and received secret information on the Potter family."
McGonagall took her glasses off and lay them on the table. "We thought as much. We'd hoped to be wrong, but . . ." She sighed. "Why do you think Malfoy hasn't made his success public?"
"I've been thinking about that," Hermione said. "I can only conclude that Harry's power wasn't enough, or Lucius Malfoy didn't perform the act properly and it wasn't a complete success . . ."
"Or the whole thing didn't work at all," Severus added. "It's just another thing we don't know."
"So we'll need to upgrade the protection on the Potter children." McGonagall concluded. "We'll keep them in the safe house until we've created strong enough wards. We'll have to look for something more when they're old enough to go to Hogwarts."
"Minister," Hermione moved forward to the edge of her seat. "I'd like to offer my services there. I think it's my responsibility to help out Harry's children when they come to Hogwarts."
McGonagall looked at her sceptically. "Are you sure about this Hermione? It's possibly seventeen or eighteen years at Hogwarts. I know that wasn't part of your future plans – Albus said you were looking to move on."
Hermione nodded. "I'm sure. I wasn't there when Harry and Ginny needed me. I think it's my responsibilty to be there for their children." She lowered her voice. "Even if it means shelving some of my plans."
"Very well," McGonagall said. "I'm sure Albus will be pleased to have you stay."
"Well," Severus said, standing up. "I guess this brings our little investigation to a close."
"I suppose it does." McGonagall agreed. "Thank you, both of you."
Severus turned and walked out of the Minister's office. By the time Hermione had made her goodbyes and followed him out to the foyer, he had gone.
Notes:
Dark, cramped room: Monstrous Regiment, again, by Laurie R. King
Come for a walk: same book again. I didn't realise how heavy the influence was until now :)
Drunk Historian: Hee. Pretty much describes my historiography class when the lecturer brought wine
Xenios: means 'stranger' in Ancient Greek
Chapter Four – Another Time Piecing yourself back together
Once she managed to pull herself to bed, Hermione slept badly. Her body, battered by the thugs earlier in the evening, was refusing to respond to the healing potion Severus had left out for her. The cut in her side was beginning to itch as well as ache; and it didn't take long to realise the ache had spread beyond her side. Hermione fidgeted in the bed – she was beginning to feel like one big bruise. She had, she concluded, been hurt quite a bit.
When she managed to drift off to sleep, her mind was invaded by a series of horrid nightmares. One moment she was running down a corridor with flickering lights and no perceivable end. The next moment she was stuck in a dark, cramped room where the walls seemed to be coming in on her and she was never quite sure if she was alone. Then she was being interrogated, tied down and tortured by a group of evil wizards with mocking laughter. She woke up sweating; they were the same dreams, she realised, she'd had in the months after leaving Hogwarts.
As she lay awake – in too much pain (and too disturbed by the nightmares) to sleep – the argument with Snape replayed through her head. Had she really called him a git? Had he really accused her of sleeping with him because she couldn't do better? Was he wrong? (Of course he was wrong, he'd have to be.) Was he right?
There was, as far as Hermione could see, no way the pair of them would be able to overlook the argument, no way they would be able to put aside the harsh words they'd thrown at each other, to resume the relationship that had begun to mean something to her.
"Good work, Hermione," she mumbled to herself.
Just before dawn her thoughts and nightmares got the better of her, and she realised any attempt at sleep would be futile. There was a large pile of books waiting for her attention in the study; she had stored them there during the Christmas holidays, anticipating a long summer of study and writing. There were, she had thought with maybe a little too much optimism, at least five publishable papers among the information she had collected.
No time like now to get started, she thought as she rolled over out of bed and stood up. She'd already lost a week to this ridiculous investigation – and all she had to show for it were injuries and a broken relationship. It was time to return to the things she trusted.
She left the bedroom with some trepidation, afraid Severus would be awake and waiting for her, ready to resume the fight she'd walked out on. It was difficult not to sigh with relief when she found him lying awkwardly on the couch in her sitting room; his eyes shut and his breathing deep and regular. She tiptoed past him, heading for the kitchen. If she was lucky she might even be able to make herself a cup of tea without waking him.
"Good morning, Professor Granger." His voice pierced the air, laden with the vitriol he usually reserved for his most detested students.
She turned back to look at him. "Good morning, Professor Snape."
He was propped up on the couch, his face contorted into one of his most fearsome glares. He wasn't over the fight either, she realised.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.
She ignored him, walking into the kitchen and putting the kettle on. The sun was beginning to shimmer outside, making the dingy buildings look much more appealing. The kettle whistled and she made herself a steaming cup of tea.
"I shall be spending the day in my study," she announced. "I have some work I wish to complete today. I refuse to allow this madness to take over my entire life. We can return to the investigation tomorrow."
Severus nodded. "Fine."
She took the tea to her study, refusing to look back at him as she closed the door.
It was remarkably easy to fall back into the routine of study. Hermione had a large pile of archaic texts she wanted to go through, papers and parchments that had been discovered in some long forgotten corner of the British Museum. She hoped to find some information on ancient transfiguration methods within them, some snippet of information that, when published, would help her really make her name.
She didn't think of Harry or Ron or the investigation.
She didn't think of Severus.
"Come for a walk with me," Severus said from the doorway. He sounded tired, exhausted even, and she wondered if she sounded just as weary. She checked the tiny clock hanging above her desk, surprised to see it was already late afternoon.
"I really can't," she said. "I'd like to get this finished. I think I'm close to cracking it, I'm almost there."
"Leave it." His voice was harsh and Hermione found herself pulling away from him. He shook his head, irritated, and held his hand out to her, his voice softer. "Please?"
"Isn't your leg hurting? How can you walk on that? And my ribs are definitely bruised. I can't see how we can manage it." Hermione picked up her pen and looked at her translation. There was, she noted, a mistake in the last sentence.
"My leg is fine. And you can have some more healing potion if you wish. There's some in what you laughingly call a kitchen."
"I'll be alright. You know I hate that stuff."
"Come for a walk."
"Fine."
It was dark by the time they made it outside and there was quite a chill in the air. Hermione pulled her light wrap closer around her, wishing once again that she'd bothered to buy heavier muggle clothing.
Severus breathed deeply and she looked at him. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for the things I said last night," he said.
"You know you were right," she said, "about some of the things, anyway."
"Possibly."
She lifted up her chin to watch his face, feeling like an anxious, young witch. She watched him shudder slightly and wandered what he was thinking.
"I used to be harder," he muttered.
"I know."
He veered them away from the noisy, crowded pathway, through a tunnel of closely growing trees. The silence was beginning to grow painful and, for one fleeting moment, Hermione wanted to reach for his hand. But that wasn't the way they acted. They weren't that kind of people.
"What are we doing?" he asked.
Hermione sighed. "We're trying to figure out who killed Harry and why."
"Should we go home and work on that?"
She turned around, joining him as they walked back towards the pathway and the people. "I think that would be a good idea."
Severus joined Hermione in the study to contemplate the information they had collated. They spread it out across her work table and Hermione realised they really didn't know much at all. Everything they had was sketchy, based on poor information or just plain rumours.
"It's a real pity that nothing came of that manuscript you were translating." Hermione sighed, "I suppose we'll have to wait until we talk to your friend tomorrow."
Severus snorted. "Xenios Arden is not my friend. He's an informant. He's a mad, alcoholic historian, an expert on all sorts of arcane wizarding knowledge."
"And you think he'll be able to help us?"
"If he can't then I doubt anyone will be able to."
Hermione stretched out, letting her arms drop across the table. Severus reached forward, absently running a finger down her arm. "I still think Lucius Malfoy must be involved," she said, laying her head between her arms.
"I can't see Lucius behind this." Severus leant back in his chair. "It hasn't got the Malfoy style."
"You're thinking of the Lucius Malfoy you remember when you were younger. You're forgetting that he's changed, that he's lost his only son and spent a good amount of time in Azkaban. Everything he valued was taken from him . . ."
". . . and by all accounts, he's quite insane." Severus finished. "I understand that. I just think there's more to this. It can't be that simple."
"Since when was anything about Harry Potter simple?" Hermione said. "There are days when I think it would have been an awful lot easier if I'd never met him at all."
He woke her early, shaking her shoulder when she tried to retreat further under the covers. She yawned and sat up, surprised to see him already dressed.
"What time is it?" she asked.
Severus pulled the covers from her and handed her a set of robes. "It's six in the morning. We'll need to leave soon. I want to get to Xenios' place before he starts drinking. There's nothing worse than dealing with a drunk historian."
Hermione stood up, taking the robes from Severus. "I suppose the earlier we get on with this, the quicker we get it over and done with."
Severus sat on the edge of her bed. "Why is this such a great inconvenience for you? I understand my own reluctance to investigate the Potter family, but I don't really understand yours."
Hermione picked up a hair brush from her dresser and began pulling it through her hair. "I suppose," she began, "I feel guilty. I shouldn't have allowed myself to lose contact with Harry and Ginny like I did. I shouldn't have become so involved in the theoretical that I forgot about the practical things. Maybe, if I had been closer I would have been able to help. Maybe, then, Harry wouldn't have died."
"And maybe he still would have died and you would feel guilty because you didn't do enough."
Hermione nodded, turning back to look at him. "I worry this investigation will lead to bigger problems and greater commitments. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. I'm quite happy with my life just the way it is."
"That's a rather selfish way to think of things," Severus said, standing up.
"I fear I've become a rather selfish person."
Xenios Arden lived in Knockturn Alley, his rooms situated above a dirty (and quite possibly illegal) artifacts store. Hermione had visited Knockturn Alley once or twice before, but the place had always made her feel uncomfortable, like there was danger lurking in every corner. She really wasn't looking forward to making a return visit.
They apparated to Diagon Alley, arriving as a few of the shops began to open. One or two of the shop keepers looked curiously at Severus and Hermione, but Severus moved swiftly, navigating them to the tiny pathway that led to Knockturn Alley.
Unlike Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley was full of people. A group of scantily clad prostitutes teetered down the street, their bags jangling. A drunk stumbled over a loose stone and fell forward, catching himself in a doorway, before sliding down to the stones and falling asleep. A group of wizards in dirty robes leered and grabbed at Hermione as she passed, only letting go as Severus drew out his wand.
Xenios was waiting for them at the entrance to his rooms. He stood up unnaturally straight, his body draped in worn grey robes. His white hair stood up straight in the front and fell in waves down the back, brushing against his dirty shirt collar. His eyes were rimmed in red and his smile was crooked. All in all, he was possibly one of the strangest creatures Hermione had ever seen.
"Xenios." Severus said.
Xenios' smile grew larger and more terrifying. "Severus Snape."
"You're not drinking yet?" Severus asked.
"Silly boy, Severus." He laughed. "You know I never drink before eight in the morning." he turned to Hermione. "It's a rule."
Hermione allowed herself to smile a little as she held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."
Xenios took her hand and brought it to his lips. "So you are, so you are," he muttered. "You should put something on those ribs, girl," he glared at Severus, "you would think this one would know enough to do that."
"You know why we are here, don't you Xenios?"
"Of course, of course." Xenios giggled, a high pitched, girlish noise that startled and surprised Hermione. "You want to know why Harry Potter died."
"Yes, we do," Hermione leaned forward. "You can tell us that, can't you?"
"I wouldn't be too concerned with Harry Potter." Xenios shook his head. "No, not at all. It's his children I'd be worried about."
"His son," Hermione corrected. "Harry only had one child."
"You're talking about the unborn child, as well." Severus said, looking at Xenios.
Xenios nodded. "Harry Potter's dead, they can't hurt him anymore. It's the children they'll want to hurt now."
"But why?" Hermione said "I mean, they're innocent, aren't they?"
"They have the power!" Xenios' eyes shone with glee. "But they don't have the protection. I'd worry about them. They're in terrible danger."
Severus put a hand over Hermione's. "Xenios," he said, "why are the Potters in such terrible danger?"
"It's the power!" Xenios reached forward and grabbed Hermione's shoulder. "If you kill a Potter, then you get their power!"
"Xenios!" Severus pulled him away from Hermione. "Calm down immediately. You must know more about this. Tell me what you know!"
Xenios pulled his wand from his robes and circled the room, picking books out at random from the book shelves, sending them across the room to the tiny desk in the corner. "It was Harry Potter's great grandfather's fault, you know." Xenios paused. "Or was it his great, great grandfather? Doesn't matter," Xenios picked out one last book and flounced across the room to the desk. "Whoever it was, he had to go off galavanting around Siberia when he was just a lad. He should have known he'd run into something rotten up there. You can't exist in that kind of climate without resorting to some powerful magics. And we know the Potters just can't leave well enough alone." He chuckled. "Apparently he thought some girl was in danger. Potter went and got himself extra power to deal with it – sold his soul from what I hear. It was all a ruse, of course. No one was in danger at all."
"The Potter family took on some sort of magic from Siberia?" Severus folded his arms across his chest. "That seems a little unlikely, don't you think?"
Xenios opened a heavy book. "You know I can't change history, Severus. And you've heard all the rumours about the Potter family. You know this explains it."
"So the Potter family are in danger." Hermione stood up. "The Potters have some strange power, other people want it, and that's why Harry was killed. So we've solved our investigation. It's over."
"Not quite." Severus looked straight at Xenios, his eyes steady and unwavering. "This information isn't on the public record. Whoever killed Harry must have hunted it down. Xenios has had a visitor before us, haven't you?"
Xenios smiled. "I help anyone who comes to me."
"Like Lucius Malfoy?"
"Blond man, slightly insane," Xenios nodded. "He came to me earlier this year. Wanted to know all about the Potter family."
"And you helped him!" Hermione cried.
"I help anyone who comes to me." Xenios turned back to his desk. "You can leave now."
"But . . ."
Severus placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's go home."
The minute they returned to Hermione's place, Severus went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea. She sat in the sitting room, her limbs feeling heavy and numb. She felt like a weight had dropped on her from a great height.
"It could have been worse," Severus brought the cup out to her.
She nodded. "I know."
He took a folded piece of paper from the folds of his robes. Dumbledore sent this to me yesterday. It makes a great deal more sense now."
Hermione took it from him. "What is it?" she asked, unable to decipher the handwriting.
"Another one of Trelawny's predictions." Severus shrugged. "It confirms it. The Potter children will need some protection."
"Is it time to see the Minister."
"Severus nodded. "I think so."
"So, it seems that Harry was killed in order to gain this great power." Severus leant forward and placed the folded parchment in front of McGonagall. "Albus sent this to me yesterday. Another one of Trelawney's predictions."
McGonagall read through it quickly, her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed. When she reached the end, she folded the parchment over again. "And you believe it was Lucius Malfoy?"
Hermione nodded. "It seems that was the case. We don't know all the details – without Lucius himself, I don't think we'll ever really know it all. But we know he's still alive and we know he sought and received secret information on the Potter family."
McGonagall took her glasses off and lay them on the table. "We thought as much. We'd hoped to be wrong, but . . ." She sighed. "Why do you think Malfoy hasn't made his success public?"
"I've been thinking about that," Hermione said. "I can only conclude that Harry's power wasn't enough, or Lucius Malfoy didn't perform the act properly and it wasn't a complete success . . ."
"Or the whole thing didn't work at all," Severus added. "It's just another thing we don't know."
"So we'll need to upgrade the protection on the Potter children." McGonagall concluded. "We'll keep them in the safe house until we've created strong enough wards. We'll have to look for something more when they're old enough to go to Hogwarts."
"Minister," Hermione moved forward to the edge of her seat. "I'd like to offer my services there. I think it's my responsibility to help out Harry's children when they come to Hogwarts."
McGonagall looked at her sceptically. "Are you sure about this Hermione? It's possibly seventeen or eighteen years at Hogwarts. I know that wasn't part of your future plans – Albus said you were looking to move on."
Hermione nodded. "I'm sure. I wasn't there when Harry and Ginny needed me. I think it's my responsibilty to be there for their children." She lowered her voice. "Even if it means shelving some of my plans."
"Very well," McGonagall said. "I'm sure Albus will be pleased to have you stay."
"Well," Severus said, standing up. "I guess this brings our little investigation to a close."
"I suppose it does." McGonagall agreed. "Thank you, both of you."
Severus turned and walked out of the Minister's office. By the time Hermione had made her goodbyes and followed him out to the foyer, he had gone.
Notes:
Dark, cramped room: Monstrous Regiment, again, by Laurie R. King
Come for a walk: same book again. I didn't realise how heavy the influence was until now :)
Drunk Historian: Hee. Pretty much describes my historiography class when the lecturer brought wine
Xenios: means 'stranger' in Ancient Greek