Chapter Sixteen
Winter passed into spring, and as the snow melted and the first few shoots of green appeared Hermione wondered at the fact that it had been over a month and Severus still had not been summoned. He maintained his correspondence with his contacts like Malfoy and Nott, but Voldemort hadn't required his presence recently.
She was sitting grading some first year essays for Professor McGonagall one evening when Severus stormed into their apartment, slamming the painting behind him. She looked up to see him pacing back and forth in front of his desk.
"What's wrong," she asked timidly.
"I just received an owl from Malfoy. He wants to meet me and Pettigrew tomorrow night," he said angrily, throwing the letter on the desk.
"And?"
"They know. He knows, Hermione," he hissed. She stood and went to him, taking his hand and leading him to the couch.
"Sit down. I'll make some tea," she said in an attempt to calm him.
"Contrary to popular belief, tea is not a magical cure all," he spat.
"Fine, firewhiskey then," she snapped back, summoning the bottle and a glass and pouring him a drink. He downed it quickly, grimacing at the strong liquor.
"How can you be sure they know?" she asked. She wanted nothing more than for him to never return to Voldemort, as a loyal Death Eater or spy, but her damned curiosity won out again as she asked the one question he had used as his one weapon against her many arguments, and to great effect at that.
"I can think of no reason why Malfoy would want to meet with me and Pettigrew. Besides there was a certain tone to the letter that after years of knowing him indicates that something is amiss. It makes sense with what Potter said," he said bitterly. She could see that admitting that Harry had been right pained him outright, the look on his face when he had spoken the words made it evident.
"I always thought that if I were to be killed I would be important enough to warrant the attention of the Dark Lord himself," he went on. She stood staring at him in disbelief.
"This is why you're upset?" she asked incredulously. "You should be thankful that he is sending those two. We can handle Malfoy and Wormtail much easier than we could Voldemort himself."
"Don't say his name," he snapped.
"Why not?" she asked indignantly, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at him, "He's not your master anymore. He can't be, not now."
He glared at her dangerously but didn't stop her when she flooed the headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore, we have some urgent business to discuss," she said through the green flames.
"Of course, child, come on through. I just had some tea and biscuits sent up." She glanced back at Severus and he reluctantly joined her in the fireplace.
They had spent many hours, going through every possible scenario and meeting with several more Order members before finally settling on a plan. Severus would meet with Malfoy and Pettigrew but would be followed by Kingsley, Moody, and Tonks. At the slightest hint of danger the three aurors were to burst out. Four against two were good odds. Though Moody seemed to think it would be three against three, even he couldn't pass up the chance to capture two Death Eaters.
"I want to be there as well," Hermione had insisted to a unanimous refusal.
"It has to be aurors, that way it will look less suspicious," Severus had told her, "I've been hinting in the last several months that Dumbledore has suspected me so being followed by aurors won't seem odd. I might even be able to retain my position as a spy with Malfoy and Pettigrew gone and no longer feeding the Dark Lord doubts about me."
She had looked around the room but found only nodding heads; no one to sympathize with her case, which in the end even she admitted was weak.
"I'm worried," she admitted to him as they returned to their rooms. He didn't respond but she thought she heard him softly say, "Me too," as he turned from her to go into their bedroom.
Worry and nervous energy plagued her and she needed a potion to sleep that night. She found herself unable to focus on anything for more than a few minutes the next day as well.
"I'm sorry," she apologized to Professor McGonagall after the older woman had asked her the same question four times.
"I know you're worried dear," Minerva told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"It's so odd," she confessed, "It hasn't been that long really and I can't imagine life without him. Or rather I can, but I don't like the thought of it."
"I'm proud of you," Minerva answered, "He's a difficult man to love." Hermione felt a surge of indignation at that statement.
"Professor!" she exclaimed, fully intent on expressing her ire at the older woman's unfair assumption. But Minerva held her hand up to stop her.
"I don't mean that he's unlovable, Hermione," she assured her, "He has lots of good qualities. I just meant that he doesn't let many people get close. You're the only one other than Albus that has gotten past the walls he builds around himself."
"And I only get glimpses from time to time."
"Well that's more than the rest of us. We care about him, we really do, but it's so hard to show it when you're constantly being cut down by one of his caustic remarks. I think most of us are too impatient or too thin-skinned to put a dent in his defenses—our own fault really," she said sadly.
"There were some of us who were taken aback when you decided to marry Severus, but I think Molly was right; you have been good for him," she continued as she shuffled her third year marking.
"He's been good for me too," Hermione murmured turning her attention back to her work.
She spent the rest of the day restless with worry and things only got worse as she sat waiting for him to come home. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stumbled through the door.
"Oh thank God," she cried, throwing herself at him.
"Get off me, wench," he snapped, but she couldn't help but notice that he held her tightly for a few moments before letting go.
"Everything went according to plan?" she asked. He merely nodded as he took of his cloak. She noticed that his robes were torn and appeared to be scorched. Apparently there had been some sort of scuffle tonight.
"You're hurt," she exclaimed.
"I'm fine," he assured her.
"I'll be the judge of that," she told him imperiously, "Let's have a look."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're awfully bossy," he told her snidely as she took his hand and led him to the bathroom.
"Yes, now sit down and take off your shirt," she instructed him. He had a cut across his chest but it wasn't very deep and with a few waves of her wand it stitched itself back together.
"I'll put some ointment on it but you still might have a scar."
"I'll just add it to my collection," he said sarcastically.
Taking the ointment from the medicine cabinet, she gently massaged it into the newly healed wound. When she was finished she traced the scars that lined his chest. She had noticed them before but had never inspected them closely.
"Are they from You Know Who?" she asked timidly. Wherever they were from they looked like they had been painful.
"Some of them."
"This one?" she asked, placing her hand on a jagged line that spanned his right shoulder and down his side.
"Black," he replied bitterly.
"Sirius Black?" she said astonished.
"Potter and his friends were not the saints that people remember them to be," he said through clenched teeth.
"I…I didn't know," she stammered. She was shocked to learn that Sirius had inflicted so much pain on Severus. She could hear it in his voice and she had the visible proof before her. Of course when she thought about it, the few times she had seen the two men interact the hatred had been palpable. She had underestimated Severus by assuming that Sirius had good cause to dislike him; because didn't everyone dislike Snape? She wondered what had started the rivalry that had ended in years of pain and scorn.
"Not many people do," he said sharply. She removed her hand, leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the scar.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"At least I have the sick satisfaction of not only outliving them but knowing that they were betrayed by one of their so called friends."
"Severus!" she exclaimed, standing back up quickly and looking at him. He merely shrugged. She was appalled at his callous indifference. Surely he couldn't mean that, but when she looked at him, she thought perhaps he really did.
"What about the satisfaction of proving them wrong?" she tempted him.
"What are you gibbering about?"
"Work to finish what they started. Accomplish what they could not. Just because they accused you of being a Dark wizard, of being a greasy git, or whatever else they called you in school does not mean that was the person you were destined to become. Prove them wrong."
"It's a noble ideal, but it loses its appeal in that they will never know," he noted sardonically.
"You would be doing it more for yourself than for them," she argued, "but if you really crave someone's face to rub it in, there's always Remus. And Harry would be dumbfounded to see you fighting valiantly for our side." He reached out for her hand, pulling her down into his lap.
"An intriguing idea," he mumbled as he kissed her. Hermione knew that he was trying to distract her; that he didn't want to discuss these things. Normally she would have been upset that he refused to listen or to talk to her. But after her worrisome day she needed the distraction and she didn't protest as he led her to the bedroom for a little more diversion.
A/N: Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. I do, however, have a question for anyone who is willing to answer it. I have had several people mention beta readers, some saying I must have a great one to someone else mentioning that I need one. The truth is I don't have one since I am so new to fan fiction. Up until now I've been too embarrassed to admit that I really don't understand them. I gather that they help out with grammar and spelling but where do I find one and logistically how do things work?