a/n - This story refuses to quit. The following chapter will be the conclusion and the epilogue. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. Happy New Year and Enjoy!
Chapter 14
Snape left and Hermione longed to go with him. Under other circumstances, she would have gladly participated in the group surrounding Harry, but she wasn't feeling up to it, her stomach still unsure whether it wanted to stay settled. The smell of the elixir had brought on the most unanticipated reaction, a weak stomach something she'd never dealt with before and she was afraid that a stuffy hospital room filled with too many people might set off a similar reaction.
When she again reached the fourth floor, she could tell from the voices that Harry still had plenty of company. Bypassing his room, she decided to pass the time with a nice, weak cup of tea. She was already standing at the service counter in the tearoom when a fresh bout of dizziness descended. Stumbling into a nearby chair, she waited grumpily for it to pass.
"Young lady, are you all right?" Rushing to Hermione's side, a gray-haired woman knelt beside the chair.
"I'm fine," Hermione replied tersely, recognizing the woman from the hospital and in no need of help.
"Like hell," the woman said. "You look terrible. When was the last time you had a physical?"
Though usually ready with answers to most questions, this one left Hermione stumped. She honestly couldn't remember, so she didn't answer at all.
"If you have to think that long about it, it's been too long. Come on," the woman directed, taking Hermione by the forearm and pulling her to her feet. "Tell me what the trouble is."
The dizziness nearly gone, Hermione wasn't about to be hustled into a needless physical. "Nothing, I'm just a bit stressed. It's over now."
"Like hell," the woman repeated, directing her into the hall and down the stairs with an unyielding grip. "You don't stumble like that from stress darling. You pull out your hair and bite your nails. Have been doing those things?"
"Well no," Hermione replied, planning to elaborate until the woman cut her off.
"Then there's another matter and you best not ignore it, whatever it is."
While being veritably dragged down another flight of stairs, Hermione raised another protest.
"Exactly where are you taking me?" she asked. "There's nothing wrong with me anyway. If you'll just let me go…"
"Nonsense," the woman replied. "I've got a little office on the third floor and it'll not hurt you to sit still while I run a couple of spells over you."
The woman swung open a set of double doors and thrust Hermione onto a rather comfortable, plush sofa. The woman's office consisted of the sofa, a desk, a few short bookcases and a wall of shelves stocked with a rainbow of shimmering, fizzing potion vials. She was rifling through the papers on her desk, clearly finding what she sought when she brandished her wand above her head like a sword.
As she paced back, the woman said, "I'm Melisinda, but everyone calls me Millie, when they aren't calling me crazy."
While the woman cackled at her own joke, Hermione considered that Snape wouldn't have allowed some lunatic to abduct her. Abduct was a strong word, seeing as Hermione was trying to be polite by going with the woman, but her patience was running thin.
"This is absurd," Hermione stated as she stood to her feet.
"Sit," Millie said, pushing Hermione back onto the sofa. "Now tell me what's been troubling you."
"I told you, nothing." Hermione tried to stand again. "I'm a healer too you know."
"Of course I know," Millie replied, nudging Hermione back down again. "You're Harry Potter's friend. Rumor has it you've taken up with that surly ex-professor of yours, but that's no business of mine. What I'm interested in is when you started getting faint. Was that the first time it's happened?"
"No," Hermione answered honestly, seeing nothing to lose by telling the woman. "It started this afternoon."
"I see," the woman began to pace, tapping the tip of her wand against her chin. "Are there any other symptoms?"
"I've been a bit sick to my stomach," Hermione reluctantly divulged.
"All right," Millie declared as she abruptly stopped pacing. "Let's get to it then."
Thinking the woman would explain the procedures before casting, the first spell caught Hermione unaware. The white aura surrounding her was so cold that it raised the gooseflesh and then turned suddenly very warm, soothing away the chill. Green and red followed the white, all passing through the same temperature phases. These were without question diagnostic spells.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked when the red turned a pale shade of yellow.
"Just running a few diagnostics," Millie replied casually. "These will tell me how everything's running on the inside."
"I know that," Hermione countered impatiently. "Why so many? I'm not dying…"
"To find out what's wrong with you, of course." The woman laughed softly as the yellow shifted to blue.
Once the heat stage of the blue faded, the cool of the white took over once again and then the light dissolved altogether.
"Well there she is!" Millie exclaimed. "That certainly explains it!"
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Oh," Millie's eyes became saucers. "Is she his--the tall fellow with the nasty temper?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione sighed, frustration tensing every muscle in her neck as she maintained a tenuous grip on her patience.
Her eyes still wide, Millie asked, "Don't tell me it didn't occur to you before now?"
Tenuous grip lost, Hermione asked hurriedly, "Would you just tell me what the hell you found?"
"You're pregnant dear," Millie stated as though it should have been common knowledge. "You have been for a little less than twenty four hours, as far as I can tell, but the spell isn't perfect. So…is she his?"
Every word that followed "pregnant" may as well have been a car horn sounding in the distance as much as they meant to Hermione.
"You've made a mistake," Hermione stated.
"No mistake," Millie replied rather smugly. "I might be off on the time by an hour or so, but the spell's never wrong about the main event. She's the one giving you fits. Such are the pleasures of a magical pregnancy, but don't worry. That'll pass in a few weeks and you won't know the difference. I've got something you can take until then."
Again, the words were meaningless drivel in a sea of misinformation. Absorbing the knowledge wasn't working, her brain apparently unable to cope, so she tried a verbal objection.
"That can't be…" Hermione said, her voice sounding pinched and very far away indeed.
"Well being magical has its advantages," Mille answered in a horrid singsong voice. "Granted, I don't get to see many women as early as you, most just check themselves. You should know as well as I do, the spell can tell from the moment of conception."
Hermione was shaking her head. That wasn't what she meant. With a shaky hand, she pulled her wand from her pocket to perform the spell herself. She thought the incantation, the one she had used once before on herself when she was late. It had set her mind at ease then. Now the blue light warmed her skin and the knowledge filled her mind. A girl, conceived late in the evening the previous night. Even now unable to process the information, she sat very still.
"I told you," Millie said. "Now this is completely confidential, so how about letting me in on the gossip…"
Hermione raised a hand, somewhat reminiscent of Snape, and the woman fell silent. A question had managed to find its way to the surface of her stunned mind and it was in need of answering right away. "I can still Apparate, right?"
"Of course you can," the woman answered.
Hermione took a deep breath, "Thank you for all your help. I have to leave now." She rose and headed for the door as the full measure of the news was struggling to penetrate her brain.
"Here," Millie thrust a small vial into Hermione's hand. "This'll help. Just take a sip now and again when you feel off. I'm sure your boyfriend can make more for you…"
"Thanks," Hermione replied absently, her eyes focused on the nearing door.
Somewhere in her mind, she had convinced herself that going through that door would restore the world to another state of being. Going through that door was going to set everything right again. If not, then Snape would be standing on the other side to tell her how preposterous the situation was. She swung the doors open with both hands and found herself terribly let down. She hadn't gone back in time, the vial was still in her hand, and Snape was nowhere in sight. It was then that she knew she'd been wrong earlier--this day had somehow managed to get better and then promptly got worse.
> > > > > > > > > >
Walking into his apartment was like returning to a home long forgotten. Although the familiarity was comforting and the sun was shining brightly, the return was bitter sweet. The return reminded Snape profusely of how lonely he'd been for so long, how cold his first few months in Mandeville had been. All the nights spent brooding over what could never be, while unbeknownst to him there was hope in the form of a woman, one he could have never imagined existing, one capable of loving him. So far fetched was that notion that it still seemed surreal, especially standing back in his apartment, wondering for just a second if that had all actually taken place.
On his way home, he'd purchased the cognac and left it warm, knowing Jonas was an old-fashioned fellow. He'd also stopped at the local owl post and sent a note asking Jonas to visit and alluding to a matter of great importance. Snape knew the old man had a curiosity rivaling Hermione's and he would be hard pressed not to respond immediately.
Snape had just begun to unpack when the owl tapped lightly on one of the living room windows. All of his windows stationary, he had to go to the roof to retrieve the note, which was surely Jonas' reply.
Severus,
I'll be there in twenty minutes.
J. A.
Snape returned to his apartment and finished unpacking by hand. He was nervous again and wanted the work to keep his mind occupied. Almost twenty minutes to the second of receiving the message, there was a knock at the door. He had keyed the door for Jonas weeks before, though the man had never been to visit. As the door swung open, Snape looked up at the old man in his customary muggle attire. The red baseball cap and tattered flannel shirt gave no inkling of the powers the man possessed or of his knowledge. He appeared to be an elderly black muggle, but his amber eyes stood out against his dark skin and they saw straight though you, whether you were aware of it or not.
"This better be good," Jonas said, his distinct accent giving away his Creole ancestry. "I was in the middle of something."
"Sitting on the street chatting with tourists?" Snape asked.
Jonas smiled, "You read my mind."
Snape gestured to the sofa and poured the man a shot, which he took eagerly, commenting that someone as young as Snape shouldn't be so skilled at selecting liquor. Ignoring the man's comment, Snape delved right into the story of the preceding few days, leaving out certain details of course, but nonetheless including Hermione very earnestly in the tale.
Though he tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible, the few times Snape did look into the man's eyes, Jonas smirked and Snape knew he saw more, how much more a mystery. Occlumency was almost impossible against the man. An extremely powerful Legillimens, Jonas need only look into someone's eyes to know them and he was the only person Snape had known other than Dumbledore and Voldemort capable of true telepathy.
"So my Trilorian did something good?" Jonas asked nonchalantly after Snape finished recounting the tale.
"Yes," Snape chuckled at the man's casual disregard of the significance.
"Destiny was bound to do something good with it," Jonas said as he refilled his glass.
"Destiny?" Snape scoffed. "How do you come to that conclusion?"
Jonas only chuckled. "It's easy. We always get what we need."
Puzzled, Snape asked, "Are we still discussing the same thing?"
"Yeah," Jonas replied. "You end up in my shop, using my plants. My plants turn out to be the thing to help the boy. That young girl helps the boy by postponing her life and in doing that, she ends up with the power to set you free. By setting you free, you end up in my shop. Funny how those things happen."
"And that was all fated, was it?" Snape asked skeptically.
Jonas smiled and shook his head. "Or it was all chance, whatever you want to suppose. The fact is you're a hateful person, not that easy to get to know even with my advantages, but she saw through you from the start. I guess that was just luck, was it? Bumping into the one woman who could stand you for more than five minutes?"
"Necessity," Snape suggested. "She needed my experience with the most evil of wizards. She wasn't looking for anything else."
"Come on. You're smart, almost as smart as her," Jonas replied, staring at the floor. "I saw it in her eyes, same as yours, a loneliness that doesn't come from a lack of company."
Snape could only laugh. "You artfully shifted subjects, but I don't think we need to discuss her further."
"But this is all about her," Jonas said, turning his eyes up suddenly and catching Snape unprepared. "She's you're answer, isn't she? I don't see that loneliness anymore."
"There's no need to put it in the form of a question," Snape said, shifting his eyes to the windows. "You aren't playing psychic, but you do fill the role of peculiar old man quite expertly. The truth is that I've had something constructive to do, something worthwhile, maybe the most worthwhile thing I've ever done."
Jonas chuckled, "But she's the central piece of this puzzle. Without her, none of this would be, can't you see that? Not you or me, not that boy or his other friend, she was the answer and I think you're her reward."
"That's an odd way of putting it," Snape said quietly, maintaining his gaze away from Jonas. "You could say none of this would have happened without Voldemort. Is he Cupid now?"
"Go on believing what you want, but don't discount what is." Jonas stood and shuffled to the windows, placing himself in Snape's line of sight. "You like these windows because they never show you what was, or what could've been. They only show what is, concrete and beyond doubt. That's rare, especially in a person, but she has it. You looked--admit it. You saw for yourself, so why are you so afraid?"
The old man could be maddening at times when it took him forever to reach his point. "Is that it?" Snape asked. "You know I'm worried about asking her and you're rambling on about it. "
"Nah," Jonas smirked. "You're afraid to admit you love her. You've never said it out loud to anyone but your momma and it's time you changed that."
"Would you stay the hell out of my brain?" Snape asked, not partial to having his own thoughts retold to him.
"I got to be going anyway," Jonas said as he moved toward the door.
Unsure how the conversation sidled away from topic, Snape said, "Before you leave, I have a question for you."
"No problem," Jonas said without stopping. "You can test the Trilorian all you want. Maybe that's what fate was after all along, or maybe this whole world is a great big coincidence. Either way, there's your permission." Jonas stopped suddenly just short of the door. "You've got company, Severus. It's time to rise above those fears."
> > > > > > > > > >
Hermione would have stood outside Millie's door much longer if Millie hadn't followed. That motivated her to go upstairs to do the one thing Snape had asked, which was retrieve his plants. Her legs carried her somehow to the potions lab, brain still successfully dysfunctional. To busy herself, she cleaned the cauldrons and stacked them, returning the place to the order it normally maintained.
Once the lab was sufficiently clean, perhaps overly clean, her brain whirred back to life and panic replaced the numbness. This was wrong, all wrong, and nothing could rationalize it. She hadn't used the incantation because…well…she'd been distracted, but she thought Snape most certainly had. Obviously, he hadn't. How could they have been so careless? She couldn't blame it all on him since she was an adult as well and capable of using the contraceptive spell. Nevertheless, the duty fell to her to deal with the consequences, none of them fun and all of them particularly unwelcome.
Out of busy work and the will to put it off any longer, she grabbed the plants and headed down the hall, all thoughts of Harry erased from her worries. Unfortunately, leaving wasn't going to be that easy.
"Hermione!" Ron's voice called as she began to descend the stairs.
Bloody freaking hell, she thought, turning around and trying to look less than distraught. "Yes Ron?"
"It's really great what you did, for Harry I mean." Ron appeared nervous though Hermione wasn't in the mood to care.
"Yes, thank you." She tried to leave again, but Ron seized her arm and she nearly lost hold of the plants.
"Is Snape gone?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered hurriedly. "Well, no…he's coming back. Actually, I'm going there now…I'm in a hurry."
Ron was eyeing her curiously. "Is he forcing you to go?" he asked as though he had some sort of clue.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione searched her only recently restarted mind for something to say to end what was looking to be a tedious conversation. The answer was obvious.
"No," she replied. "I have to go there to tell him I'm carrying his child. Tell Harry I'll see him later."
Ron at once began to laugh. "All right, I get the hint. You don't have to be disgusting about it."
He shuffled back off to Harry's room and Hermione found herself standing stunned again. She even smiled and laughed a few times before the lump rose in her throat and the tears threatened to come. Swallowing the emotion, she again started down the stairs, her speed increasing as she went.
When she reached the lobby, nearly sprinting, Mrs. Windom and James Flannigan were standing near the nurse's station and regrettably, they spotted her.
"Miss Granger," the old hag called sweetly. "Could we speak with you?"
"No," Hermione called back, quickening her pace even more.
"It'll only take a second," Mrs. Windom added pleasantly.
"I don't care," Hermione replied. "Last I knew I didn't work for you anymore."
Mrs. Windom gave what she must have thought to be a merry giggle. "You aren't taking that whole mess seriously, are you?"
Hermione stopped just short of the barrier and turned back to them, needing to vent something on someone. "I quit. I still quit. Quit, quit, quit."
Surprised by how good that felt, Hermione turned on her heel and crossed through the barrier. The chill night air decimated that good feeling with harsh reality. The cold set off another dizzy spell and she had to search her pocket for the vial. The orange liquid tasted faintly sweet and it did just what Millie said, it took the edge off, though it didn't do away with the woozy feeling entirely.
Speed of the utmost importance, she Apparated home out of habit and after setting the plants gently on the coffee table, she collapsed onto the sofa. Pregnant, the word was spinning wildly in her mind and the thought of telling Snape was nothing short of terrifying. Needing to see him more than she needed to feel sorry for herself, Hermione chose to go resolutely into what fate had dealt. She closed her eyes and pictured the street on the lake, the one outside Snape's building and Apparated.
The trip felt longer this time, perhaps because she wanted to be there so badly or because she was dreading what she had to do when she arrived. Either way, when she appeared on the street she realized she had again reappeared in plain sight but thankfully, there were no witnesses to her arrival.
The sun was still out, whatever time it was a distant memory as she went through the door and up the stairs. The memory of first climbing those stairs was so fresh and yet so distant it was hard to believe she had been the one to take that journey, scared and curious all at the same time. She was scared and curious again, but for other reasons entirely. Too soon, she was standing at his door, number thirteen. Even more apt now, she thought, hesitating as long as possible before stepping into what she was sure would prove to be an unforgettable conversation.
Before she had time to knock, the door opened and Hermione remembered it did that. She took two steps into the room. The first person she saw, however, wasn't Snape, but the black man she'd met in New Orleans just a few days before. The man was smiling at her and she smiled back respectfully. Much like tumblers in a lock, the why fell into place.
"Jonas Anderson," she said, her smile becoming one of disbelief.
"Hermione Granger," he replied.
"I see introductions would be redundant." Snape's voice reached her before she saw him over Jonas' shoulder. He was smiling and she couldn't help but wonder for how long.
"I was just leaving," Jonas said as he walked toward the doorway.
"Before you go," Hermione said, "may I hug you?"
She heard Snape chuckle. "You ask him, do you?"
"It would be my pleasure," Jonas replied.
He wasn't much taller than she was, so a hug was simple and especially quick. Jonas stepped back and his stunning pale blown eyes locked onto hers just as his smile became an all-out grin. That part wouldn't have been disconcerting had his voice not suddenly sounded inside her head.
"Oh my, you certainly have some news for him."
Alarmed, she had no way to respond.
"I'll be leaving now Severus," Jonas said aloud this time. "You know, if I was a hundred years younger, I'd give you a run for your money." The man winked at her before walking past and shutting the door.
"What did he say to you?" Snape asked, shaking Hermione from the new shock.
"What do you mean?" she asked honestly.
"He said something, didn't he? He's fond of doing that," Snape answered as he walked toward her and took her in a hug.
His arms held her tightly and she was mildly surprised she'd survived all those minutes he'd been gone. She giggled at the irrationality before the tears started to well. She had to tell him, because only then would she be able to process the information logically, and there was no reason to prolong the torture.
"Did you miss me that badly?" he asked, pulling her away and smiling, though the smile faded as her tears intensified.
In the safety of his arms, it became acceptable to release the tension that had done nothing but strengthened from the moment she received the news. The tears were soothing as opposed to sad, taking with them the fear beleaguering her.
An expression of abject concern on his face, Snape asked, "You missed me that badly?"
She tried to speak, but the sobs had stolen her voice, allowing her to do nothing except shake her head.
"Has something happened?" he asked, his grip on her shoulders tightening.
She cleared her throat, "No…nothing…well…yes."
"Then tell me," he begged.
Beating around the bush was senseless so she took a poignant breath as the words formed and by some means summoned the strength to speak them.
"It's a nice day, isn't it?"
Damn.