Chapter Eleven
Severus was just cleaning up from his third year practical when green flames leapt up in the fireplace.
"Professor Snape?" a voice called out. He whirled around to see Rosmerta's head flickering in the fire.
"What is it?" he asked. What was she doing Flooing him in the middle of the day? For that matter what was she doing Flooing him at all?
"Hermione's just Apparated here. She's been hurt."
"What happened?" She had gone to volunteer at the orphanage, just as she had every other day. There had been nothing out of the ordinary the first two weeks. Severus was starting to think it was a waste of time, but Hermione assured him that regardless of whether or not they found anything that led them to Draco, it was worth the time she spent there helping the children. He had sneered at the comment, but since she had little to do these days when he was in class, he could hardly forbid her to from going. Not that he would have been able to in any circumstance.
"I'm not sure. It's just a couple of bumps and bruises but she's asking for you," Rosmerta replied. Severus nodded, and she stepped aside so that he could get in the fireplace. He stepped into the back room of The Three Broomsticks. Hermione sat in a chair, holding a cold compress to her head when he arrived. She put it down and threw her arms around his neck as he kneeled down beside her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, surprised at her sudden embrace. He patted her on the back, then pulled away. Brushing away her hair, he cupped her face and looked into her eyes. She was frightened, though it was quickly receding, and she was excited about her recent adventure.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she reassured him.
"What happened"
"I found Draco, or rather he found me." Severus stood up and summoned a chair. Rosmerta interpreted the scowl he directed at her to mean "leave us alone" and left in a hurry. When she was gone, he motioned for Hermione to continue.
"He was coming out of Wondergood's office, disguised of course. She introduced me to him as Mr. Mahoney, but I had this niggling feeling. And he got a little jumpy when she told him my name was Snape. I followed him as best I could, but he soon realized he was being tailed. He shot off some hexes in my direction. They missed, but one exploded an overhang above me," she explained, motioning to the growing bump on her forehead.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes," she said, growing exasperated. "Did you hear what I said? I found Malfoy!"
"I heard you. Are you sure it was him?"
"Well not completely sure. But even if it wasn't him then it might be someone who could lead us to him."
He nodded. "I'll owl Potter. He can see look into anything on this Mr. Mahoney, and maybe send someone to where you followed to see if he returns. But our first concern is getting you back to Hogwarts." He took her hand and led her to the fireplace.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked again when they reached their rooms back at the castle. She looked pale and drawn. The swirling ride in the Floo hadn't helped her condition. He hoped he could convince her to lie down at least for a little while. "I think you should get some rest."
"Yes, I think I will."
While she went off to bed, Severus debated whether or not he could owl Potter or whether the incident called for a face-to-face meeting. Despite his abhorrence of the arrogant twat, he decided it would be in the better interest of the case to tell him in person.
Once more, he stepped into the fire. A few moments later, he was at the Ministry and striding towards the Aurors' department.
"I'll get right on it," Harry said later after Severus relayed the details. "And we should probably order surveillance of Narcissa. Draco always did like to run to mommy when things got rough."
'Just like you ran to the headmaster,' Severus thought bitterly. But he held his tongue. He needed Potter if Hermione was going to be helped.
"Right. I will visit the orphanage again. I'm confident I will be able to convince Estrilda Wondergood to help us."
"I don't want to hear about anything illegal, Snape," Potter warned. How hypocritical of him! How many times had he escaped expulsion and worse in his days as a student—all in the name of the greater good?
"Don't worry, Potter," he sneered. "You won't hear of anything." That was what an Obliviate was for. But at least he finally felt as though they were getting somewhere. He was doing something more than just watching Hermione try day in and day out to remember something, anything. If it turned out to be Malfoy that had did this to her, then he would have his head on a platter.
&&&&&
It was late when he finally returned home. Hermione was up and reading in the living room. She still looked worn, and the bump on her forehead had grown larger, its purple and bluish tint contrasting with her pale skin.
"You look horrible," he told her as he brushed the soot from the Floo from his robes.
"Nice to see you too," she said with a scowl.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She went back to her book, ignoring him. He glared at her, but she refused to look back up at him. Chalking up her foul mood to the discomfort she must be feeling, he fetched a potion to give her.
"Have you seen Poppy about that bump yet?" he asked, coming back into the room with a goblet. "She's seen worse but if she's busy we can always go to St. Mungo's." He tried to get a better look, reaching out a hand to brush the hair away from the injury.
"No wonder I'm such a horrible patient if this is the way you hover," she said irritated, throwing her book to the side. "I'm fine."
"Then you won't be needing this Pain Reliever Potion then," he said, slamming it down on the side table. She eyed it wistfully, but turned her nose up. "If you're feeling better then we can discuss our plan of action."
"Fine."
"Firstly, there will no longer be a need for you to visit the orphanage," he told her.
"How are we supposed to find Mr. Mahoney if we don't visit it?"
"We won't. I will. It's too dangerous for you."
"You will not leave me behind, Severus Snape. I fought against the Dark Lord. I was an Auror. Have you read those files? Because I have, and I know that I have faced Death Eater after Death Eater. I think I can handle Estrilda Wondergood and Mr. Mahoney," she argued, stamping her foot.
"I will not allow it," he said firmly.
"Not allow it? Not allow it?" she said, her voice growing louder and more vehement. "How dare you even suggest that I would need your permission? I am a grown woman who will..."
He cut her off mid-sentence, grabbing her by the arms and forcing her to look up at him, "I nearly lost you once and it almost killed me. I will not let you put your life at risk again." Gods, she was beautiful when she was angry, with her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed. He wanted to do nothing else than kiss her right then.
But she wiggled free from his grasp, "Let go of me!"
"Hermione!" he called out after her as she stomped from the room.
"I am not your student anymore. I haven't been your student in a long time. I don't remember if you tried things like this before, but I'm certain that if you had had my reaction was just the same," she said before slamming the door to the bedroom. Severus sank down onto the couch, wondering what to do. Surely, there was a way to convince her that this was for the best. He only hoped he wouldn't have to spend too many nights on the couch before he found it. An hour later, he ventured into the bedroom. It was dark and quiet, but upon climbing under the covers, he could tell instantly that she wasn't yet asleep. A memory of one of their first arguments floated to the surface of his mind.
"You should never go to bed angry," Hermione told him in that obnoxious tone she reserved for quoting books and famous people. She was always saying little proverbs like that and it drove him mad.
He lay as close to the bed as he could without falling out, as far away from her as he could possibly get. If he wanted to go to bed angry, then he would damn well go to bed angry.
"Severus?" He ignored her. "Severus, stop ignoring me," she demanded. Reluctantly, he turned over to face her.
"What?" he spat.
"Are you even going to listen to my side?"
"And what side is that? If you didn't want to be my wife, then why did you accept my proposal?"
"I do want to be your wife. I just don't want to take your name. I like my name. I'm an only child; there will be no more Grangers if I become a Snape," she argued, scooting closer.
"Then your mother and father should have had a son," he countered, backing away from her advance and spilling over the edge of the bed. He landed with a groan on the hard stone floor, the thin carpet doing little to cushion his fall. Hermione's mirthful laugh floated down from the bed, only stoking his anger.
"This is not funny."
"On the contrary, I think it's very funny," she said, peering down at him and reaching out her hand. He ignored it and stayed where he was. "Stop acting like a child and come back to bed." He glared at her. "Please," she added. Nodding tersely, he took her hand and let her help him back up. She fluffed his pillows, pulled the covers up, and then cuddled up next to him, running her hands through his hair to soothe him.
"I do want to be your wife, and as your wife I will listen to you when your students nearly kill you. I will support you when people question you. I will take care of you, making sure you have everything you need."
"Will you love me?" he asked somewhat petulantly. Although it felt as though he had won in a sense, he suspected that she had won this argument, and that she would not be taking his name.
"Until the day I die," she promised. It was enough for now, he thought as she moved to demonstrate that love, her hands moving up and underneath his nightshirt caressing the planes of his chest and her mouth nibbling at his Adam's apple. Besides, he had the rest of his life to convince her. And even if he never did, the makeup sex would be well worth arguing over it.
"Hermione?"
She lay still, not moving. He wondered for a moment if she was asleep, but he decided to try again regardless.
"I know you're awake."
"What?" she asked grumpily. She still sounded angry. That was not a good thing. He wondered if he should tell her the proverb about not going to bed angry, but he had just succeeded in getting her to stop quoting things all the time in the last few years that he didn't want to bring it up in case she started again.
"I don't mean to smother you, but I can't bear to lose you. I hate seeing you like this," he said. It wasn't exactly an apology, but Severus hoped it would be enough to put things to right.
"I am a grown woman."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
"I shall try," he promised. It was all he could do, just as it was all she could do. She didn't answer, the silence hanging in the air. He waited until he realized she wasn't going to respond.
"Good night," he said, settling down to sleep.
"Good night," came the response, its tone softer than before.
&&&&&
The mood was a little tense the next morning. But Severus ate his breakfast and kissed her forehead like he always did, praying she would be in a better mood by dinnertime.
Walking into their rooms after his afternoon classes, he found Hermione flailing her arms and jumping around. A loud racket filled the room, and upon closer inspection, he realized it came from an old victrola. Bright yellow, orange, and red notes burst forth from its edge, hovering in the air around her head while she bounced around the room.
"What is going on?" he yelled, but she didn't hear him. Had she suffered another relapse? This appeared worse than just talking to a tree or a statue. He pointed his wand at the victrola, throwing the room into silence. Hermione froze, and then turned to face him. Her face was flushed from jumping around, and her hair rose up on end, some pinkish looking notes still tangled in it.
"What are you doing?" he asked again.
"I was dancing."
"That was NOT dancing. You looked like you had been bitten by a Manticore. And what was that awful racket you were listening to?"
"The Saucy Sorceresses," she said, walking to the table and pouring herself a glass of water. She took a huge gulp.
"They're after your time," she said when she finished, wiping the excess from her mouth with her sleeve. He narrowed his eyes. He sometimes forgot how young she was until moments like these. They seemed to occur more often now that she had reverted full-time to her sixth year mind set.
"My time is not over. My time will not be over until I am dead. And that was not music." She raised her eyebrow in a fairly good imitation of him.
"This is music," he continued, pointing his wand at the victrola again. A soft waltz started, and instead of the violent bursts from before, small pastel notes drifted lazily throughout the room, disappearing after a few moments.
"And this is dancing," he said, holding out his hands to her. She set down her cup and stepped into his arms. He began to move them slowly to the music.
"I didn't know you could dance," she said, sounding impressed.
"I don't," he told her with a smirk. "But this is better than that atrocious display you called dancing."
"You're impossible," she accused him, stepping back from him. He felt cold at her leaving, and he knew he would have to swallow his pride to draw her back.
"I do know the basics," he admitted. His mother had shown him a few steps during happier times, but he didn't remember much. Even her face had become a shadow in his mind, but he did remember her words. 'This will be useful someday, Severus.' He hoped she was right.
"Let me show you," he said, his voice softer now. She looked at him skeptically. "May I have this dance?" Stepping forward, he pulled her close again, relieved that she let him.
"I move here like this, and you move like this," he explained as he guided her with a hand at her back. "Just follow my lead." She nodded. They circled the room, avoiding the couch and desk that stood in their way. After awhile he felt a little braver.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Yes." His heart soared at that single word. He didn't know if she just meant for the dance or is she trusted him with her heart, but it was a step in the right direction. He gave her a small smile before spinning her out. With a slight tug, he pulled her back to him.
"Not bad," she said.
"Thank you," he said as the song ended. He hesitated, but a slower song came on next, and he drew her even closer. Her hand remained enclosed in his and he let them rest against his chest while he gently caressed her fingers with his thumb. The hand on his shoulder snaked around to his neck, and he noticed with pleasure that her breathing had increased when he rested his cheek against hers.
"Wouldn't you agree that this is preferable to thrashing about?" he said into her ear.
"It certainly is nice, but my dance style serves as catharsis."
"I see. I personally prefer deducting points from Gryffindor." He could feel rather than see her smile.
"I don't have that as an option."
"So I'll just have to live with loud noise and jumping around?"
"Yup."
"I suppose it is better than you breaking things."
"Right," she said with a hint of hesitation. He pulled back and looked at her.
"What did you break?"
"Just your shell paper weight, but I fixed it," she said, frowning. He leaned in and kissed her forehead.
"You can talk to me you know," he said, pressing his cheek against hers once more.
"I'm all talked out."
"Then we'll dance."
"And jump around."
"I am not jumping around," he told her sternly. She giggled.
"What a frightening thought, you dancing to The Saucy Sorceresses."
"Indeed." They swayed to the music, not really moving around the room any longer, but just stepping back and forth in time to the music. The silence was comfortable and he could almost pretend that this was his wife of seven years who remembered him.
"I think I'm starting to understand," she murmured a few minutes later.
"Understand what?"
"Us. I think I'm starting to see what I must have seen before."
"I love you," he told her, his arms tightening around her. She didn't respond right away.
"I can't say that yet," she said quietly.
"That's okay." And it really was. He hadn't expected her to return the sentiment, but he was overjoyed that she was moving in the right direction. Despite their argument the night before, she still could see herself loving him in the future--the near future, he hoped. He pressed his lips to skin below her ear, moving his way down the line of her jaw.
"May I kiss you, Hermione?" She nodded, her eyes drifting shut.
Moving up, he kissed her lightly on the lips.
"You don't have to ask," she breathed when he pulled away. He answered by pressing his lips more firmly to hers. He tightened his hold on her waist, and her fingers scratched at the base of his scalp.
"We should do this more often," he said, kissing the corners of her mouth.
"Hmmm, kiss or dance?" she hummed.
"Both." He kissed her again.
"Maybe, if you let me go with you to question Ms. Wondergood," she said. He stopped abruptly. She opened her eyes. He noticed she was smiling.
"Are you trying to take advantage of my good mood?" he demanded. He took a step back from, but his hands remained at her waist. She moved her hands from around his neck, trailing them down his chest. The sneaky little vixen! She may not remember being married to him, but she managed to manipulate him just the same.
"Will you be angry if I say yes?" He pulled her back to him. She collided with his chest, her hands gripping his upper arms.
"You sneaky witch," he whispered in her ear.
"I have lived with you for seven years. You said yourself that it had worn off on me," she said with an impish grin.
He suppressed a smile. He had already decided today to let her accompany him. It was just a matter of slipping some Veritaserum in Wondergood's tea. Nothing overtly dangerous, but if he allowed her that, then she would be less likely to balk when he didn't mention pursuing whatever leads the matron provided them. She wasn't the only one who could 'forget.'
"Yes, you can come. Not that I could stop you."
"I'm glad to hear you admit it," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the couch. They sat down, and she cuddled up next to him. He wrapped his arm around her, and tried not to think of the mountain of exams he had to grade. This was much more important than reading what his idiot students thought about the Draught of Living Death.
"Tell me more about the trial."
"Sneaky and bossy," he teased. She frowned then.
"I'm sorry, I thought..."
Severus sighed. She was much too sensitive to survive living with him. Had she always had these doubts? "I wouldn't have you any other way," he reassured her. "Now where did I leave off?"
"The verdict," she said, her smile slowly returning.
He stood standing, awaiting the verdict. He watched as the judges filed in the room, the shuffling of their papers as they slowly took their seats taunting him. As his advocate, Hermione stood next to him. With the added tension and excitement, his nerves were on edge. Every noise, every smell, every touch was heightened and on alert. So it was no small concern that her hand kept brushing up against his, finally encased in it, as she grabbed his hand and wove her fingers through his own.
"Everything is going to be okay," she whispered. He didn't respond to her encouragement or the small squeeze of her hand, only grimacing. He hoped she was right.
"Though there are several members of the Wizengamot who are appalled at the measures Professor Snape went to while he was supposedly under cover..." Scrimgeour said in a booming voice. Dolores Umbridge cleared her throat in the same irritating manner she had while she was at Hogwarts while a few of the other judges frowned down at him. Surely they hadn't convicted him, but his knuckles whitened, and he noticed that Hermione's breathing had increased.
"We find that there is not enough evidence at this present time to convict. If, however, in the future such evidence is found, we reserve the right to prosecute you to the fullest. You are free to go, Professor."
"That's wonderful!" she cried. And then with no warning at all, she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Oh I just knew they would acquit you. They had to. I mean with what little evidence and you being unable to confront your accuser. This is just wonderful!"
He stood stiffly in her embrace, listening to her ramble on against his shoulder. Ever so slowly, as relief flooded him, his arms crept up to return her hug.
"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said so softly that no one else around them could hear. She leaned back and looked him in the eye. He dropped his hands back to his sides.
"You're welcome," she said brightly. She let go of his neck, but one hand grasped his as she led them through the crowd that had gathered.
"How do you feel now that you've been cleared of all charges, Professor Snape?" a dodgy looking reporter asked, his Quick-Quotes Quill posed and ready.
"He has no comment," Hermione said quickly before Snape could respond. She pulled on his hand, and he followed her, content to let her deal with the sudden barrage. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop everyone and he ended up being roughly patted on the back by the Weasley twins as Order members surrounded him.
"Congratulations, Snape," said one. He bristled at their lack of respect but the occasion hardly called for a correction.
"We never liked you, but we always knew what did for the Order was valuable work," said the other.
"Thank you," Severus grunted. He wanted to be home in front of his fire, forgetting that this had ever happened. He wanted to move on with his life now that, for him, the war was truly over.
"Now if they could only find who set you up," Arthur Weasley said.
"I doubt they'll even try," he heard one of the twins say, but Hermione continued on through the crowd and as his hand was still entrenched within hers, he had no choice but to follow her. They had made it almost to the door when they were stopped by Alastor Moody.
"You're very slippery, aren't you, Snape?"
"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded. Severus only noticed that she was still holding his hand because she suddenly gripped it harder.
"A Death Eater doesn't just switch sides because his conscience pricks him. Death Eaters don't have consciences," he accused, his one good eye staring ruthlessly at Severus.
"The Wizengamot just found me innocent, Moody, unless you hadn't noticed," Snape hissed.
"No they didn't. They ruled insufficient evidence. You're not innocent, just lucky."
"Well either way, I'm free to go. So stand aside."
Moody moved slowly and reluctantly, both eyes on him the entire time.
"You'll want to watch yourself with that one. Remember, constant vigilance!" he told Hermione, grabbing her by the shoulder as she passed.
"I can take care of myself," she answered, raising her chin. "C'mon Severus, we have some celebrating to do."
"Time for dinner," Severus said, ending the story for the moment.
"When are you going to get to the good stuff?" she asked as he stood up, pulling her with him. They headed upstairs to the Great Hall for the evening meal.
"The good stuff?"
"You know, the part where I make you mine."
"Soon enough, soon enough," he told her. But that reminded him of something. He had never given her his third Christmas present. He wondered what she would think of it as he watched her chatter away to Minerva at dinner. Would she laugh at him for keeping them all this time?
There was only one way to find out. Rummaging around after dinner, he found it hidden under the bed.
"What is this?" Hermione asked as he handed her the box, its red ribbon slightly crumpled.
"A box of letters. You traveled a lot as an Auror, so we've exchanged a lot of letters throughout the years. I thought you might like to read them. I was going to give them to you at Christmas, but then got, well, distracted." She thumbed through the papers, then set them aside and threw her arms around his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear.
"You're welcome," he said, pulling her to him tightly. With great reluctance he let her go, giving her a swat on her bottom. "Now leave me alone so I can get some work done."
A/N: Thanks to my beta Larilee. Stay tuned for the next chapter where Severus and Hermione will question Ms. Wondergood, there is a confrontation with Percy, and our couple grows ever closer.And for those of you who are curious the dog in the last chapter was indeed inspired by Nana from Peter Pan. Thanks for reading and please leave a review!