Thanks to beta Larilee. She's wonderful.
Chapter Five
Severus plotted and planned his strategy all day, but for all the little speeches he composed in his head to convince her to stay and give him one more chance, she proved them needless.
"I think I may have something," Hermione said as he came in the door. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. All atwitter, she showed him the file in her hand. "According to this, the Wizengamot didn't sentence Mulciber to the Dementor's Kiss or to a life-long sentence in Azkaban. Instead, he received a paltry five-year conviction, and then was banished from wizarding society."
"So, he's out there free…"
"Living as a Muggle," she finished for him. He hated when she did that, but he was too excited at her discovery to notice much.
"But that means he wouldn't have a wand. He doesn't have the means to have kidnapped you and then Obliviate you."
"He might have had help, or maybe he made a new wand. It would explain why such a large chunk of my memory is missing and why I keep forgetting new things. If he made a wand with the materials he had on hand and could find through the black market, it wouldn't have functioned as well as an Ollivander wand. And all he would have needed was brute strength to kidnap me."
"I don't know," Severus said, leading her to the couch and sitting down. "You're remembering what you were like in school. But you aren't that girl anymore. You are a feisty, loud, strong woman who is hardly going to be manhandled in the middle of the street. Someone would have noticed."
"I'll have you know that I wasn't a shrinking violet in school either, just ask Draco Malfoy." He smirked at her. "But you have a point. You say the last place I was seen was in Hogsmeade."
"Yes, you were looking in the window of the bookshop."
"Then maybe it happened later. I could have Apparated to London, and then met him. Or maybe he lured me away rather than forcing me."
"With what?"
"Well, he was known for his use with the Imperius Curse," she argued.
"Yes, but without a proper wand that would be almost impossible."
"Almost impossible is still possible," she said to him.
He stared at her. How many times had she sat on this couch, in this exact position and told him that? She often discussed her cases with him. She would weave highly improbable tales and he would play devil's advocate, until one of them came up with a viable solution. It was a strategy that without realizing it, they had recreated. It proved to him once again that they were meant to be together.
"It's worth investigating further, isn't it?" he heard her ask. He nodded.
"I'll need your help tracing him in the Muggle world," he said. It was just as well that Mulciber lived as a Muggle, it gave Severus the opportunity to demonstrate his trust in Hermione.
She nodded her agreement, a large grin plastered on her face. It was the first real smile he had seen from her since she had come back to him. He realized that it stemmed from her need of approval from him as a sixth year Potions student, but after this morning, he was hardly in the position to be picky about her reasons for beaming at him. He was just happy to see that all that had been forgotten in her excitement over this first small breakthrough in the case.
"But first we need to interview Potter," he continued with a grimace. He was not looking forward to this.
"I sent him an owl this morning. We're supposed to meet him tomorrow for dinner in the Leaky Cauldron." He nodded, wondering if she would bring up the incident of that morning. He certainly wasn't going to tempt fate by asking her feelings about it. Hoping he could distract her from bringing it up, he summoned the Parcheesi board.
"Excellent work. You deserve a break," he said, motioning to the game now in his hand.
"Parcheesi?" She looked at him skeptically, but pulled one of the armchairs closer to the table he conjured. "I would have thought you preferred something more intellectual like chess."
"I do seem the sort, don't I?" he said as he laid out the board and handed her the yellow pieces. He took the blue ones for himself. "Actually, you prefer this game. You say it's less violent than Wizard's Chess or Exploding Snap. I actually prefer card games such as Crazy Eights or Old Maid." He enjoyed the look of surprise on her face. If there was any sort of silver lining in this whole damned situation it was that he could tease her like he had when they had first married.
"You're joking!" she exclaimed.
"Why yes, I believe I am. Go Fish is actually my favorite."
She actually smiled at that, a real smile meant for him and him alone. This wasn't because she had found new evidence of who had done this to her, or because she learned that the many books in their rooms were hers to read whenever she wanted.
"Then by all means, we should play that next," she said, her smile turning mischievous.
He raised his eyebrow while passing up one of her pieces. They spent the next hour chatting. He talked about his students and their propensity to blow things up while she reminisced fondly about partnering with Neville.
"He's not that bad in Potions," she told him. "Just terribly frightened of you."
He wondered if he should tell her the truth about Neville, how he had died fighting.
She noticed his darker look and asked, "What is it?" The evening had been progressing so well, he didn't want to ruin it now by reliving the last dark days of Voldemort.
"Nothing…I believe you might just win." Her face changed instantly from worried to triumphant as she rolled the dice and moved her last piece home. "You must have cheated somehow, a charm on the dice perhaps?"
Picking them up, he inspected them closely, waving his wand with a detection spell.
She huffed in indignation, "I would never cheat!" He looked up at her, smirking. It took several long moments but it finally dawned on her that he had been teasing her again.
"Maybe you never did in school, but seven years living with me, and my devious ways have corrupted you," he said, putting the game away and making the table disappear. She frowned at that statement, leaning back in her chair.
"Am I really that different?" She didn't seem to realize that this was his idea of humor.
"Yes and no," he said more serious now, wary of this conversation. He searched in vain for a way to avoid it. It seemed that was all he had been doing tonight, first with the discussion of the morning's incidents, then Neville's death, and now this. Changes were made gradually. People slowly grew into themselves. Maturity didn't happen overnight, but somehow he was supposed to tell her everything in the next ten minutes?
"Not in the essentials," he said vaguely, moving towards the bedroom. "I'm going to bed. Will you join me?" She shook her head no, taking up her Hogwarts, A History.
"I think I'll read a bit more tonight," she said, and he realized with dismay that she was still nervous about entering the bedroom with him. After this morning, he hardly blamed her. Climbing into bed, he lay there staring at the ceiling until he felt her crawl in beside him. Only then was he able to fall asleep.
The next evening they traveled to see Potter. The meeting went better than Severus had hoped, meaning that he managed not to kill the irritating savior of the Wizarding World, but other than that, the Auror had very little information to offer them.
"Draco disappeared after that final battle," Harry said. "We haven't been able to track him since, although I think his mother has been sending him money. We can't prove anything, but large amounts of money are sent abroad on a regular basis."
"Can't you just track where she sends it?" Snape asked. Harry glared at him.
"We've tried that. It goes to an orphanage for witches and wizards. After that, we seem to lose track of it."
"Maybe she really is just donating her money to orphans. She does know what it feels like to lose her entire family," Snape said, sneering.
"I doubt that," Harry replied, his green eyes flashing. Severus knew he had hit a soft spot. Potter would never admit that he had anything in common with a Malfoy. "I would bet my broom that Malfoy is still out there. It makes perfect sense that he was the one that did this to you, Hermione."
"Have there been any leads in the case recently? Had you discussed it with me?" Hermione asked.
"I mention it every once in awhile, but not recently…although you did tell me that you needed to speak to me about something that day in the Three Broomsticks."
"Did I say what about?" Hermione asked, becoming animated. Finally, they were getting somewhere.
"No, just that. You had to check on a couple of things first. But you seemed a little preoccupied, almost agitated."
"And you didn't think that this was important to mention earlier?" Snape asked sharply.
"I mentioned it to Albus, but you wouldn't know about that would you, Snape?" the younger man snapped back. Hermione looked from one to other and back again, obviously confused.
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"Nothing," Snape said quickly, staring at Potter ruthlessly. He couldn't have Hermione knowing that he had never looked for her, not when things were progressing so well between them. The boy stared back, but finally relented.
"It's not important," he bit out. "What's important is finding out what happened to you. And I think finding Malfoy is the key to that. Here's the file if you want to look it over." He handed Hermione a thin manila file.
"It doesn't look like you have much," Snape observed.
"All we know is that he fought in the last battle. Ron remembers throwing several Slicing Hexes at him, but he was never seen again after that."
"What happened exactly, at that last battle?" Hermione asked. "No one will tell me."
Potter looked nervous. Severus glanced around the room, avoiding her eyes as she appealed to both of them. He knew that she would have to be told at some point, but he had hoped it would be later rather than sooner. He had hoped, probably in vain, that he wouldn't have to be the one to tell her.
"It was a long time ago, Hermione." Potter stalled.
"There was an account in the book I bought you this week," Snape said, hoping that her propensity towards reading would spare him this pain.
"That's an academic's account of what happened, just the bare facts. I want to know the details. How will I ever remember if no one tells me? What if I never get my memories back? That's a large part of who I am. It shaped me into the person I am today, or was. I can't be expected to just 'recover.' I need your help. I need everyone's help," she said, her voice becoming shriller and shriller.
She was right; she did need to know. But it had been hard to deal with at the time. It would be hard to see her relive it again. Snape leaned closer and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked over at him in surprise. Potter looked at her uneasily and then over at Snape. He nodded at the younger man.
Looking back at his friend, Harry relented, "It was the end of our seventh year…"
It was dark. Severus was having a hard time distinguishing Order members and Aurors from fellow Death Eaters. Flashes of red and green crisscrossed the narrow street, while flames leapt from the building to building. The fire would keep away the Inferi, but it would destroy the village at the same time.
He watched as Neville Longbottom charged Bellatrix Lestrange, attacking her from behind. He never had been good with a wand, but he appeared to be faring well with his fists. He pried her wand away from her before she could cast a spell, and Ginny Weasley had taken the opportunity to Stupefy her. She reached out her hand to help him up. The poor boy never saw the flash of green light that hit him in the back.
Severus' quickly sent a hex in the direction of the Death Eater who had felled Mr. Longbottom. It knocked him to the ground before he could hurt Miss Weasley.
"Tie him up quickly, Miss Weasley," he instructed her, his wand still at the ready in case anyone else lurked in the shadows. He needed to get her back to Hogwarts and safety. She was much too young to be out here fighting like this.
"This way," he said, taking her arm when she had finished.
"Where are we going? What about Neville?"
"We'll see to him later. For now we need to get out of here," he said sharply, anxious to be away from the battle. He was not meant for this. He gathered information and that was it. Whichever side emerged victorious he hoped to be perceived as a supporter, his status as a double agent only reinforcing his less than loyal attitude.
"I can't leave Harry!" she cried. "He needs us. He can't do this alone."
"He has to do it alone. That is the idea, Miss Weasley!
"No!" She wrenched her arm from his grasp and moved toward the noise of the fighting. The fire crackled, the air pinged with hexes, the agonizing cries of the tortured combatants, praying that death would arrive soon—and it would soon for both Severus and his young charge if they didn't get out of there.
He thought about letting her go. If she wanted to die because of a misdirected loyalty to Potter then so be it. But then he remembered Molly and Arthur Weasley—the matriarch's insistence on forcing food down his throat and Arthur's babbling about everything from Muggle batteries to the workings of the Ministry. They had never talked down to him, always treating him with respect. And they loved their family. A memory of Molly clutching her children to her breast flashed before him. They were the kind of family he had always wanted. He couldn't face them again if he abandoned their daughter to capricious fate.
"I'm coming with you," he said sharply, catching up to her. "Stay behind me, and follow any instructions I give you. Do you understand?" She nodded.
They followed the narrow streets until they arrived in a large square where the battle had truly begun. The Dark Lord stood at the center, his wand pointed at Potter. Harry lay crumpled on the cobblestones, twitching from what Severus recognized as the Cruciatus Curse.
"No!" Ginny cried from behind him. She rushed out, running at Voldemort. He saw her and turned his wand on her next. Potter gathered his strength, standing up.
"Say goodbye to your girlfriend, Potter!" Voldemort taunted. Another flash of green and she slumped to the pavement. But the moment it took to cast the curse gave Potter the opening he needed. He cast the spell needed to dissever the Dark Lord's soul from his body. An unearthly screech filled the square, causing Severus to cover his ears. Voldemort's body keeled over and then began smoking. Having watched the death of his former master, Severus suddenly jumped into action. He fought hard to round up the last of the Death Eaters, his loyalties now finally cemented…
Severus pulled his thoughts away from his own experiences at the end of the war. They weren't happy or triumphant memories, reminding him instead of the ambiguity of his allegiances. He forced himself to listen as Potter relayed every bloody gory detail of that final meeting between him and the Dark Lord, knowing that Hermione would sense if either one of them were going easy on her, if they were trying to spare her the pain. It had fallen dark when Harry finally finished. The room had filled with the weekend crowd there for drinks. Everyone talked merrily, unaware of the tears that Severus noted rimmed Hermione's eyes, tears she appeared desperate to contain.
"Please, Miss Granger, crying will not bring back the dead. You are left alive and you have a responsibility to make sure their sacrifices were not in vain. They did not give their lives so that you could spend the rest of yours sniffling and feeling sorry for yourself."
"You've said that to me before," she said, one tear escaping down her cheek. He started with surprise. He had said that to her when he had come across her sobbing over the gravestones of the fallen weeks later.
"You remember?" he breathed, his heart jumping into his throat.
"No, but it sounds like something you would say."
He frowned, reaching over to wipe away her tears, but she turned her head ever so slightly away from him. Instead, he reached for his handkerchief.
"Indeed," he said, handing it to her. She took it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. He waved away her hand when she tried to return it to him, and she placed it in the pocket of her robes.
"Hermione, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…" Harry sputtered.
"It's alright, Harry," she said, comforting her friend. "I wanted to know. I needed to know."
"I think perhaps we should return home. Allow you to process everything you have heard today," Snape said, standing and offering her his hand. Harry nodded in agreement, and Hermione reluctantly placed her small hand in his larger one.
"We need to work on our other angle as well," she said.
"Other angle?" Harry asked.
"Mulciber," Snape stated. Potter nodded.
"Yes, best to pursue every lead you have," he agreed. Snape sneered at him, the arrogant twit.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, the boy actually brightening at his words. "I didn't know how to run an effective investigation myself, nor did Hermione." Potter's smile drooped.
"I'm doing this for Hermione, not for you, Snape."
"Believe me when I say I would never ask you." Hermione frowned, wrenching her hand from his.
"I see some things never change. I'm going home," she said. She marched over to the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green light. Severus threw one last nasty look at Potter and then followed her.
She wasn't in the rooms when he returned. An unnatural silence filled the space as he wondered what he would have to do to fix things this time. He cursed himself for not having any control when it came to Potter, and then cursed Potter for being so irritating in the first place. He debated whether or not he should look for her. She had just relived those terrible last days; maybe she needed time alone. But he was very reluctant to leave her be when he didn't know where she was in the first place. Deciding he would look for her, then he would give her the space she might need, he set out to prowl the hallways.
It didn't take long to find her. She was talking to a portrait of Millicent the Moldy, worrying about being out after hours for something silly like a duel. His anger spiked, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Madam Pomfrey had told him that this could happen, that it had happened, but it was different seeing it than it was hearing about it second-hand.
'Well,' he thought, 'if she wants to act like a student then I will treat her like one.'
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for wandering the halls at night and detention," he said sharply and then quickly wished he hadn't. A memory of Hermione dressed in her school robes flashed before him.
"Professor Snape," she said in that voice that sent shivers down his spine. "I just feel terrible. I can't hide it from you any longer." He raised an eyebrow, and set his papers down.
"What are you playing at, you vixen? And why are you wearing these?" he asked, taking the dull black fabric of her robes between his fingers.
"I'm the one who stole the Boomslang skin from your office in my second year," she confessed.
"That was you?" He hardly believed it, but she nodded, coming closer.
"I'm ready for my detention," she whispered into his ear, "sir."
He smiled and pulled her to him. "Is that so? I have lots of nasty things that need to be done," he said, kissing her. He decided then and there that he liked this game.
He had teased her when they first married about her age and that she used to be his student by threatening her with detention or loss of House points. He did it mainly because the whole situation made him feel a bit uneasy, as though he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule or taking advantage of the situation by marrying her, but she had surprised him that night by showing up in her old school uniform, telling him she was ready to serve her detention. It had been the best 'detention' he had ever had.
"Professor Snape," she said, turning to face him. He no longer cringed at her insistence on calling him by his title. He wondered at how quickly he had become accustomed to being called Professor by her again. "I tried to stop them from coming but they insisted. Malfoy challenged Harry to a duel. But then he didn't show up, and the Fat Lady went to visit a friend and we couldn't get back into Gryffindor Tower. We didn't mean to see that dog."
He stared at her incredulously. She must be talking about her first year in school when Dumbledore had insisted on keeping that monster dog of Hagrid's in the school.
"Don't worry, Hermione. Come with me," he said, holding out his hand to her. Tentatively, she accepted it.
"Why would anyone keep a three-headed dog like that?" she asked as he led her back down to the dungeons.
"Or name it Fluffy?"
"That thing has a name?"
He smiled at her distaste. He had thought the very same thing when Hagrid had first introduced the animal to the staff all those years ago. "I'm afraid so." He listened as she rattled on, jumping from midnight duels to illegal dragons to Flamel. Apparently saving the Philosopher's Stone hadn't been her only adventure that year. He remembered being very impressed at her being able to solve his logic puzzle. He hadn't liked her for a very long time, but she never ceased to amaze him.
Finally reaching their rooms, he found the bottle Pomfrey had given him for these kinds of situations. She still looked a bit dazed after drinking it, and he insisted that she lay down on the couch for a few moments, while he went to ask one of the house-elves for tea.
"That stuff tastes horrible," she said when he came back, accepting a steaming mug from him.
"I'll ask Poppy if we can add it to something the next time."
"The next time?" she asked, frowning. "I hope there isn't a next time."
"Me too, but just in case." He had hated seeing her vulnerable like that. He would talk to Pomfrey about a cure as soon as possible, or if she couldn't help then someone at St. Mungo's. He knew Hermione had visited the Healers there already; Molly Weasley had taken her while he taught classes, but perhaps they needed more 'motivation.' And of course, knowing what had happened would help in knowing what could be done to reverse it.
She nodded, but didn't say anything more. They sipped their tea in silence. Hermione sat with a pensive look on her face, and he wondered what she was thinking about.
"Is there a memorial somewhere?" she asked abruptly. He realized she had been mulling over the details Potter had relayed to her this evening. Maybe that had triggered her memory loss, the stress and emotional overload. He would need to make sure that she didn't overdo anything in the future; otherwise, there would be more foul-tasting potions to take.
"There is, and a small cemetery as well. I'll take you tomorrow."
"I think I'd rather go alone," she said, not looking at him but into her now empty teacup.
"That's not a good idea. What if you have another episode?" he said quietly. "I won't bother you if you want to say your goodbyes."
She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks again. "How did you….how did you go on?"
"I had you," he said, rising to take her cup from her. She placed it in his hands, her fingers brushing against his. Looking up at him, she forced a smile. He knew it didn't seem like much, but they had been there for each other after the war. His case had given her a needed distraction while she worked through her grief, and she had saved him from both the Ministry and himself. He had only ever told her about that night. Her support, her belief that he was still worth loving had given him the courage to try and find some happiness. He didn't know what prompted her to look for the good in him, but she had found a very small part of him that was yet untouched. With her gentle guiding, it had grown until he was almost the man she was worthy of. It had taken them awhile to get past the war, and he cursed again whoever had brought them back to this painful point in their lives.
'I will never be free of the Dark Lord and his destruction,' he thought ruefully to himself.