Others
taught me with having knelt at well-curbs
Always wrong to the
light, so never seeing
Deeper down in the well than where the
water
Gives me back in a shining surface picture
Me myself in
the summer heaven godlike
Looking out of a wreath of fern and
cloud puffs.
Once, when trying with chin against a
well-curb,
I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture,
Through
the picture, a something white, uncertain,
Something more of the
depths – and then I lost it.
Water came to rebuke the too clear
water.
One drop fell from a fern, and lo, a ripple
Shook
whatever it was lay there at bottom,
Blurred it, blotted it out.
What was that whiteness?
Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once,
then, something.
Robert Frost
…………………………
Following the ball, the air surrounding the castle grew thick as the occupants of Hogwarts drifted into the darkest part of night. However, an even darker presence surrounded the grounds and a wet fog hugged the towers and parapets. The inky combination made it impossible to see out the windows from anywhere above the Great Hall.
Two Death Eaters slipped inside the school grounds gates near Hogsmeade station. They pulled their skull masks over their eyes and clouds of silver breath rose up into the chilly air.
"You remember the orders?" one asked in a low whisper.
"Of course, Lucius," a husky feminine voice answered.
"Good, he will meet us here. Once we set foot beyond that wall, his alarm will sound -"
His companion could not contain an evil chuckle.
"And if he is as smart as these idiots say he is, he will come alone."
………………………………….
It was two in the morning when Hermione was violently woken from sleep, the door to her room being practically beaten off its hinges and the noise nearly frightening her into hyperventilating.
It was almost too much to take as she lifted the latch and Yeva Parajanov's shaking, tattered form tumbled onto her carpet. Her eyes and cheeks were smeared with trails of makeup from earlier, her clothing torn, and limbs littered with bruises and scrapes.
Overwhelming was the scene that unfolded, to hear her beg for a place to hide, a place to be safe until morning… where he wouldn't find her - where she wouldn't be taunted by the rest of Slytherin house, in danger of being abused again.
"Please just help me, Hermione" was all the poor girl could muster before fainting in a heap at the Head Girl's feet.
………………………………..
"I'm asking, Nina," Lupin said once more. "Nicely... I'm asking you nicely."
Professor Nina Vector shuffled the parchment on her office desk in attempts to distract herself from the growing problem manifesting before her. Remus Lupin stood leaning against the door frame, his hair disheveled, and his hands held out in askance, begging her.
"Nina-"
"What exactly do you want me to do?" she asked harshly in a whisper. Her short brown bob bounced a little around her cheeks as she replied, eyebrows knit above fierce hazel. "You got yourself into this mess, Remus. Technically speaking, there are no rules in the way of a relationship under these circumstances."
Lupin moved away from the wall to take a seat in the chair opposite her desk. Mountains of parchment rippled in the breeze of his cloak and Nina realized that it was the same cloak he had worn to the ball earlier that evening. He hadn't changed, providing more evidence of how bothered he was… it was almost pitiful.
"All those exams," he whispered, as he inspected the surroundings. "You must need some help grading them?"
"What makes you think you're matched with me in the subject, Remus?" She looked up from the wood of her desk and smiled. He was instantly relieved. He knew she would help him.
"Never you mind. Consider me lenient anyway, because if I had taken you up on that horrible bribe you bet you'd be begging for mercy in a minute. I know for a fact that you enjoy Arithmancy about as much as a Skrewt enjoys a good swim!" She smirked.
Lupin's face grew serious again and Nina sighed.
"I don't know what to tell you really," she started softly, refocusing her gaze upon the clock that hung behind him. "I checked those records against Binns' notes and you know how accurate they are. You know how he always says, down to the-"
"-Last detail," he finished her sentence. "I know… I just don't know what to do now… I tried to sleep but can't… knowing he… knowing things I'm not quite sure how to handle. But I mean it. I don't know what to do… Now that I'm sure I… sure that I-"
"Love her?" she said. The words sat on the air.
There was a heavy pause.
"Yes."
Nina stood from her seat and lifted the teapot on the credenza.
"My, Remus, this is complicated indeed."
Lupin looked to his slightly shaking hands.
"Nina, when I came to you looking for a loophole in the handbook, I wasn't actually thinking of all the possibilities. I wasn't prepared for a contest. Not with my heart involved. I guess I thought it would be simple." He trailed off before catching his breath again. "She is of age yes, but what of student teacher relations?"
"As I've explained, Remus. Binns assured me there is no rule against the pursuit of a student teacher relationship, as long as the student is of age and there is consent. I would not have allowed you to owl her if I had any doubt."
Remus looked excited suddenly.
"Yes, but who knows of these practically hidden laws, other than me? You and Binns… perhaps the Headmaster? I could find her… yes! And tell her that it was a mistake. That it is against school rules and that she must not be involved with… anyone… until graduation. That way I'd have time, to try again, and-"
"Hermione Granger is the brightest student Hogwarts has seen, Remus."
"Of course she is-"
"Yes, I even venture to say smarter than a few of the staff… perhaps myself!" She became cross instantly. "You'll make it worse by trying to fool her, you will!"
"I'm losing her," he said with conviction. "I'm losing her."
Nina met his eyes with compassion, placing her elbow on a stack of papers, and leaning her chin on top of her knuckles.
"You never had her, Remus, you know it… and you'd be wrong to steal her. If she's not destined to be yours then so be it. She's a prisoner otherwise."
"She could love me."
"She won't."
"How do you know!" He pushed the desk away from himself and rose violently from the chair, unsettling Nina's chin and causing her to jerk forwards. Scattered parchment from under her elbow fluttered from the desk. "How do you know this? You don't know her!"
Professor Vector caught a flying exam in her hand and tucked it into the pocket of her ivory robes.
"Neither do you," she said calmly.
"I'm in love with her!" He threw his hands in the air and then pointed a finger. "Don't you tell me I don't know the woman I love!"
Lupin paced back and forth, processing the words he had heard from his long-time friend. His eyes shifted rapidly, reviewing the recent exchange.
"Wait," he said deeply. "You said 'steal', Nina. You said I'd be wrong to steal her."
"I-"
"What do you mean by that?" He was away from himself for the moment. He looked distant and dangerous. "What of this stealing?"
"Merlin! Remus, don't pretend you don't know!" Nina finally squealed. "You've known all along, you've had to!"
"What?"
"See for yourself."
Professor Vector slipped her willow wand from the sleeve of her robes.
She tapped it slowly on her small easel chalkboard, and with a whispered incantation, the array of problems vanished and were replaced with an iridescent screen. At once a grid of silver numbers moved increasingly across their coordinate lines and changed rapidly so that it appeared they worked themselves out.
Lupin forgot his predicament for a moment to admire the beauty of the charm.
And then the numbers changed to runes, and from runes they changed to symbols. Once they were hieroglyphics, they slowed to a stop. A pattern of icons in the shape of a silver key remained, and on it Nina placed her hand.
"Segreto Rivelato," she said, and the whole room filled with silver light.
Where the board once stood, there was a blank white screen and soon Professor Lupin was gazing at Hermione. Or rather, the image of Hermione moving through the crowd at the ball earlier that evening.
And there he was, with her, his arm around her waist as he guided her to the dance floor. It was before the Gryffindors had taken her aside.
They began to dance, swaying in circles and fading into the brilliant light of the room. Their surroundings unfocused and melted into glitter as they twirled. She laughed, as did he, and the music became more and more obscure.
"I remember this, Nina," he said.
"Hush, watch," she replied.
Remus' eyes scanned the scene for something out of the ordinary, but all he saw was what he remembered - through the eyes of Nina Vector instead… strange from a different perspective, as if his dancing with Hermione was being filmed for a movie.
"I see nothing out of the ordinary," he said then. "We were enjoying ourselves."
"No… wait… there now, see?" She pointed to the edge of the screen, where a few faculty members stood, Severus Snape among them. He moved wistfully in his trail of black robes, and his silhouette was almost blurred in the low light.
"Now look at-" Nina started, but it was not necessary. She trailed off once she noticed Remus' disbelieving eyes.
Hermione, with her chin rested against Remus' shoulder, looked far beyond where they were situated, her eyes fixed on the French doors that Severus occupied. Her face held a longing expression that mimicked, strangely, the crushing feeling in Lupin's chest as he watched the memory unfold once more.
"Severus." Remus said rather dumbly, forcing a swallow on a dry throat as he turned away from the screen, not needing any more of it.
"Finite Incantatem," Nina whispered, forcing herself to look upbeat, while her friend looked so forlorn.
"It certainly wasn't Filius she had her eye on, I'll tell you -"
"Do inform me of the humor in this, Nina!" Remus shouted loudly, causing her to jump a little.
"Well, what I guess I meant to s -"
"Severus!" he shouted in disbelief.
"Yes."
"That bastard doesn't deserve shit."
"Remus!" Nina reprimanded. "Where has all this… disdain come from? Honestly, what happened to supporting the new life for the Potions Master?"
"Oh hell, Nina, you knew him as well as I did in school, always a rat… a bully -"
"Always the one being bullied, if I'm not mistaken, Moony!" she yelled.
"Defending the snake in the situation now then?"
"Excuse me?... You're crazy. I don't know what's happened to you, Remus. But, whatever it is, I don't like it!"
"You know me, Nina, better than anyone still around in the midst of this blasted war, and you choose to take sides with the Death Eater?"
"The Death Eater that saved your arse from lycanthropy you mean?"
"No, the Death Eater that struck me when I chose to show gratitude, the Death Eater who fucks himself stupid with opium every weekend, the Death Eater that killed and raped hundreds of women and children, innocent Muggles - I don't bloody care if he takes out He Who Must Not Be Named with his bare hands! He is the last person I'd… I'd almost rather she be with Draco Malfoy to be honest…"
"The spawn of Lucius Malfoy!… Now I know you've got your head on wrong. You know as well as I do that Severus is no longer any more a Death Eater than I am! You're mighty hypocritical to argue his unsuitability to society and to this new life… for what it's worth, you said it yourself!"
"You are kind, Nina. You are respectable, and gentle. You care about feelings and emotions and things like that… he doesn't, he -"
"You're wrong."
"Like bloody hell I'm wrong!"
"You're wrong because Hermione is in love with him, that's enough for -"
"Don't you say that."
"I will say it, because it's true. There is no way possible you didn't have a previous idea that she may have feelings for Severus. You are known for jealousy, as you've always been. But just because someone your age replaces you –"
"Don't you dare, Nina - Hermione is under a spell."
"Ha! Hardly. Hermione is smarter than three of you, and you know that. Perhaps that's why you thought you were in love with her."
"Go to hell," he said softly.
"I believe that's what Severus told you, the last time you tried to reason with him. Unless I am mistaken… or are you not giving me all the facts?"
"I can't believe you're siding with Severus Snape here! The man who in his fourth year set your origami collection on fire?"
"I'm not siding with anyone, and if I did it would be with Hermione, Remus. We're not fourteen here. Refrain from such petty comments… I'll be forced to hex you."
"No, you're forgetting, Nina. You may be a Ravenclaw, but there is no mistaking when you're hiding something."
"I have nothing to hide, Remus," she said honestly.
"I know for a fact that you've spoken with Severus," he stated plainly.
"What?"
"Don't play the innocent with me, you've seen Severus."
"What is wrong with you?" She was beginning to remember.
"I have full reason to believe there is something against me here. I saw you both leave the hall at the same time two nights ago."
"It's nearly two in the morning, Remus. You really need some sleep." This business was confidential.
"I want to trust you, I want to rest… but how? You were in deep conversation…"
"So then what, Remus? I'm not permitted to enjoy a conversation with a colleague? You are really being a son of a bitch right now."
"Am I?" He chuckled darkly. "You are too bold to pull that card." He scratched his head harshly, disheveling his hair even more than it already was, his movements breaking the rhythm of the crossfire. "And you know what? I brushed it off figuring, what the hell, it's only a word or two. Yet all the while I had been confiding in you. Don't you think it would have been wise to tell me about what had transpired? At least so I wouldn't be left wondering? I honestly didn't know what it could possibly have been about. I thought you might have been telling him to give me another chance, possibly convincing him to apologize for his behavior. But I understand now. It's all about something you don't want me to know. Fine. I'm not quite sure I want to know what could possibly make Severus Snape actually smile!" He breathed rapidly, swallowing onto a parched throat.
"Smile? Did he smile? That's odd. I didn't notice," she said, surprised. She briefly wondered why he sounded so jealous.
There was a pause.
"You bitch, you have some nerve!"
"Oh fine you ruddy dumb ox! I was speaking to Severus, and yes, it was important, but no, none of your concern."
"And you say I've gone crazy?" he asked sarcastically.
"You have. And if you must know, I've agreed to put him up in a villa in Florence. The poor thing is in a terrible situation involving a potion. He needs a plant that can only be found in the lower regions of Tuscany, and he was seeking a safe and inconspicuous place to stay. It's my grandmother's villa… so check if you need proof. Maybe you can write a book about this new-found discovery, Sherlock! Are you happy now?"
"No." He turned and walked to the door.
"You can leave then," she said sternly.
"Poor thing, you call him… poor thing," he said with distaste as he opened the door.
……………………………
"He plays the piano you know," Yeva murmured absentmindedly to the air.
Hermione eased her limp body gently into the charmed bathwater of the giant tub. The steam rose to fog the surrounding mirrors. The small chandelier of the plated ceiling was blazing low. Heavy scents of aloe and lavender rose from the frothy water.
"Who?" Hermione said inattentively once she'd settled Yeva against the seat in the porcelain tub.
"My uncle Severus," Yeva whispered in reply.
Hermione hadn't listened to the question and the answer had caught her off guard. She was really focused on healing Yeva's wounds at the moment, and the bathwater was successfully erasing all visible cuts and bruises. Hermione had to admit she was pleased with her charm.
"I should have taken you to the hospital wing," Hermione said seriously as she sat down at the edge of the tub. "They're going to have to be informed of this, you know."
Yeva breathed deeply, submerging herself completely and returning so that her chin skimmed the surface. Her dark wet hair fanned out against the foamy opaque water. "Mmm," she hummed. "What did you do to this water? I feel like a new witch."
"Yeva, listen to me!" Hermione shoved the palms of her hands against her forehead suddenly, and spoke unbelievingly into her lap. "You were raped!"
"No, he didn't rape me," she stated. "He just -"
"Assaulted you? Beat you? Honestly, what's the difference!" Hermione, looking up at Yeva again, was quietly distraught – acutely aware of the acoustic nature of her bathroom. "Gods, your first year at Hogwarts and this happens, it's horrendous!"
"I'm used to it," she said matter-of-factly.
"Tell me you're not serious," she said after she found her words.
"I am, Hermione, unfortunately –"
"What do you mean unfortunately!" Hermione was dangerously close to screeching. Her overt concern echoed unpleasantly against the aged tile.
"I mean unfortunately, it's my life, the life I have both chosen and been forced into… it's complicated." She was calm as she said this, disturbingly calm. And her voice never faltered or shook.
Had Hermione been given enough time before the shock of her life in the next second, she probably would have realized the girl's odd countenance.
Her neck stretched unnaturally to see further into the tub, head cocked to one side, and mouth hanging slightly agape, a bar of soap slid from her grasp.
Yeva, bewildered, glanced to both left and right, looked down at herself, her naked torso… her arm…
Hermione tumbled backwards, falling into one of the window panels and knocking three fluffy red towels from the shelves, as well as a perfume bottle that shattered into tiny shards. The overly potent, sickly-sweet scent of berries assailed her nostrils and she coughed. Once she regained her balance and collected her thoughts, she stood and fixed Yeva with a dangerous gaze set to 'laser'. Reaching into her bathrobe, she whipped out her wand and held it like a fencing rapier between herself and friend.
Yeva sat defenseless, squeezing her eyes shut, terrified of both the terrible curses that Hermione knew, and the utter lack of preparation she had put into an explanation.
"Hermione! Please!" she pleaded over Hermione's heavy breathing.
"You…how could… have… what… w..when?" Hermione could not bring herself to formulate a sentence. All that surfaced in her mind were the comments from Ginny and Harry, about this, her… Yeva Parajanov. That "shifty Slytherin".
"Is there an anti-glamour spell in this water?"
"It has those effects yes," Hermione bit back.
"Well that would explain it."
"You had better explain yourself!" Hermione shouted angrily, her throat instantly raw.
There was an uncomfortable silence. Yeva stood in the tub with her back to her for what seemed like an eternity until she finally rose from the water, the candles making her tan skin glisten while it was damp. She lifted her hand to the stack of red towels on the opposite side of the circular room. Pulling one around herself, she muttered something and her dripping hair twirled up against her head. Her body dried with another whisper.
"Perhaps the bedroom is better suited for conversation," Yeva finally said quietly, inclining her head towards the crack in the mirrored doorway.
The adrenaline in Hermione's veins and the wand in her hand still made her a vicious adversary to the unarmed, unclothed Yeva.
"Alright," Hermione said, her voice momentarily caught in a whisper. Her expression hadn't changed since her last comment, and when she nodded her head the tension in her facial muscles relaxed. It felt better.
Yeva followed Hermione wordlessly, silently praying that her explanation would do her situation justice.
Once inside the bedroom, Yeva took a seat on the large window ledge, tucking her legs under herself and repositioning the towel as best she could.
Hermione relit the hearth with a wave of her readied wand and chanced a look at Yeva who, presently, was trying to get comfortable under a towel that was barely giving her coverage. Before she thought she spoke.
"Just tell me there isn't any reason to inform Dumbledore of anything other than your attack…"
Yeva sighed.
"I promise you. No."
"Then." Hermione bit her lip in thought and walked over to her closet, never taking her eyes off of the other girl. "Here, take these."
Yeva looked down at the carpet where Hermione had just tossed a black tee-shirt and a pair of red terry cloth drawstring shorts. She drew one of her famous eyebrows up into a strange expression, as if Muggle clothing was the equivalent of a potato sack.
"No guest of mine will freeze to death," Hermione said, corpse-calmly. "Put them on."
A weight lifted from Yeva's shoulders. "Thank you," she said.
There was a rustling and a slight creaking of ancient redwood.
"Okay," Yeva said quietly to announce she was clothed.
Hermione furrowed her brow, turned around and hurried over to her bed. She lifted and smoothed the comforters down in a frenzied motion that reflected the awkwardness of their situation. Scooting Crookshanks lightly towards the foot of the bed, she hopped up and lit the table lamp with a soft "Lumos".
"Well come sit on the bed then," Hermione said after she realized Yeva was content to sit staring at her from the window seat. "I'm going to assume you have a long story to tell… if you feel well enough tonight, that is…"
"No, that's too kind." Yeva stood and walked over to the four-poster, her arms folded across her chest. "I want to explain."
"Very well then," Hermione said. "I'd feel much better with an explanation."
Yeva sat and drew her legs to her chest, her small toes wriggled into the soft bedding, her arms still squeezed her chest tightly.
"Yeva, honestly, make yourself comfortable," Hermione said unexpectedly as she arranged a few throw pillows behind the smaller girl's back. "There, now rest." She reasoned that Yeva at least deserved a fair chance, especially since she had been attacked… and that Hermione knew her wand was still at close reach.
Yeva complied with a sigh of relief. Yet her arms still clutched her ribs so tightly it looked painful.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've already seen it," she whispered quietly. "I'm not going to wig out again, I promise."
Yeva's eyes suddenly filled with tears and she bit her pretty lips in stress.
"Okay," Hermione breathed out. "I completely realize it's not what it seemed to be, Yeva." She smiled. "I overreacted –"
"You acted as you should have acted," Yeva said shakily, a tear regretfully escaping her right eye, the one that was closest to Hermione.
"If you'd explain we'd both feel better… just calm down."
Yeva sighed shakily and wiped her eyes with her right hand, letting her left drop to her side.
"Let's have a look then," Hermione whispered.
Yeva lifted her somewhat runny face and met Hermione's soft gaze. The tears in her large indigo eyes made the irises sparkle and shine like some precious gem. Hermione recalled those strange eyes on more than one occasion. It was as if they had a way of shifting. At times Hermione had seen them so cold and lifeless they were almost black, and now, as she sat looking at them this way, she felt drawn and calm. It was so fragile and beautiful, not dark or shady in the slightest.
Yeva raised her left arm slowly over her stomach. When her fingers reached the comforter on the other side of her legs she rested her wrist in her right hand. Then slowly, ever so slowly, she rotated her elbow so that the tainted underside of her forearm was completely visible. All the while, her gaze never wavered from Hermione's face, even when the older girl lowered her eyes and involuntarily breathed a sharp breath of air.
They stayed like that for nearly a full minute, frozen in awkward silence, Hermione's eyes following the dark pattern of the serpent through the hollowed eyes of the skull. The detail of the branding was comparable to a faded Muggle tattoo, and the grayness of it was surely because of lack of any dark activity.
The moment was beyond surreal. Hermione's ears filled as though she had changed altitude and her eyes widened even more to examine this new reality before her. The outline of the mark was unnatural in color to the tawny tone of Yeva's skin, and it was also slightly raised so that the fact that it was permanent could not be ignored. The thin areas of raised flesh were rosy and blushed… it looked aching.
"Does it hurt?" was the first thing Hermione found herself asking.
Yeva smiled and her eyes wavered a bit.
"Not now, no," she answered.
Hermione sensed Yeva's sadness and the mark so vivid on her seemingly innocent skin almost pushed her to the verge of her own tears.
"Then why –" Hermione began to ask gently.
"I was forced."
Silence.
Hermione looked away.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, disillusioned and humbled in her words.
Yeva made herself laugh.
"Now you know why I'm a Slytherin," she said.
Hermione didn't laugh. Instead she said, sternly, "This isn't right."
"It's my life now."
"It isn't right!" Hermione said loudly.
Yeva placed a hand on Hermione's knee to calm her, her eyes glazed again, but a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders once she realized the trust she could put into this friend.
"I live with this, because I must. I am a Death Eater now."
"You are no Death Eater," Hermione started with conviction. "Death Eaters are cold lifeless beings with no soul, no heart, no room in their bodies for anything but evil." She had risen so she sat kneeling, wrinkling the comforter in her excitement. "Death Eaters are twisted villains, cowards who exist for only their selfish gratifications… You may have that mark, Yeva, but you are no Death Eater!"
She finished her rant on one breath so that she inhaled deeply once she had spit the last of it from her mouth.
There was a pause and Yeva looked stunned.
"Thank you," she said after some time. "And I mean it." She sighed. "If only someone could convince Severus the same." She held her breath, expecting another scream, or at the very least, a gasp. But Hermione sat still and slowly closed her eyes.
Yeva studied her expression curiously.
"The gods know I've tried," she whispered, not realizing the underlying implications of her words.
………………………………
"You look quite striking tonight, Severus."
Even the softness of those icy words left the skin on the Potions Master's back tense with gooseflesh.
"To what do I owe such an undeserving compliment, my lord?" His words were falsely sincere and articulate, though his insides were hardly comparable.
The Dark Lord moved to face Snape, his cardinal eyes narrowed to slits and his wet gray tongue ran along a rotten row of sharp teeth.
"You look lively again… like the old days. The indigo suits you well." His words couldn't be more thoughtless. "Been out raping again, have you?"
"I'll get around to it," Snape replied, his stomach knotting.
"Treat yourself, Severus, it's Halloween night. Even your skills cannot hide that gleam in your eye. Have we a new whore then?"
"No, my lord."
"Oh I sense that we do. Don't be so shy, Severus. You must introduce me…"
Severus bowed his head in frustration and bit his tongue. He had, in his exhaustion, forgotten to close his mind. In those short seconds that had passed he could have been found out. Instead, the Dark Lord had only surface scanned his thoughts. He closed his eyes and squinted, formulating words of skilled Occlumency in his mind.
"I assure you, my lord. I have not been in the company of a whore."
The stern black gaze was safely settled on his face once more.
"Alright, Severus." The Dark Lord chuckled. "I thought for a moment you might have gone soft."
"Never, my lord."
"Of course not." The corner of his crooked mouth twitched before he changed the subject. "The Tuscan Moonflower… that is awfully rare is it not?"
"It is, my lord. But I assure you it is necessary."
"I am convinced." He smiled twistedly. "Such a powerful potion should call for powerful ingredients. Where will you be staying?"
"A colleague's villa, my lord."
"In Florence? Purebloods?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Very good. And you leave?"
"The first of December, my lord."
Voldemort moved to the corner of the small parlor they were standing in. The low light of the candelabra on the windowsill cast ghoulish shadows onto the rather large portrait of Mortimer Malfoy, his silver-blonde hair hung sharply round his aged and bony face. The recently deceased bastard, Severus remembered, had spoiled Lucius rotten while they were in school, much as Lucius continued to do to Draco.
Severus' keen senses had alerted alarms in his head. Voldemort had pulled him away from the festivities to speak alone. And that could only mean the dark wizard had picked up on the scent of deception. Snape knew he was being tested.
"Cigarette?" Voldemort uttered quietly. He took a seat in one of the hearth chairs, not bothered in the slightest by the cold dark wood below the grate. Not bothered in the least by the near freezing temperature of the small room.
"No thank you, my lord."
"No?" The Dark Lord raised his forehead where his eyebrow should have been. "Then sit at least, Severus. Tonight I am celebrating."
Snape reluctantly sat in the chair opposite.
"Did you speak with Dumbledore at all this evening?" the Dark Lord asked.
"Yes, my lord. We spoke in passing. He was muttering some nonsense about dancing at the ball I was expected to attend."
Voldemort laughed then, a sour breath of cigarette smoke invaded the air.
Snape hated the sound of his laugh. It was somehow worse than the sound of his anger.
"And did you dance?" was the question that hit the conversation next.
"I did not."
"A shame," Voldemort whispered, tossing the cigarette butt into the dark hearth.
"Pardon, my lord?" Severus asked in limited shock.
"I feel it is a shame, Severus, that Dumbledore's final request of you was not fulfilled." His lips curled into a twisted smile. His crusty teeth glistened in the moonlight from the window.
Someone howled drunkenly in the next room, and laughter permeated the wall.
"My lord, I am not certain that I understand." Snape grit his teeth. He knew what was coming and all his strength was needed in staying void of emotion. This was his test, and Merlin be damned if he was going to lose this fight.
"Headmaster Dumbledore is on the verge of his demise as we speak, Severus."
"Oh?" Severus bit his tongue until he tasted blood. "Are you certain of this, my lord?"
"Very."
Voldemort seemed to revel in Snape's unease.
"What has been done, my lord?" Snape asked again, his eyes holding their glassy motionless quality, his stomach snapping in two.
"Lucius and Bellatrix have gone to Hogwarts tonight, with the Death Stone."
Even the walls of Snape were breaking. His eyes widened.
"The legendary Death Stone, my lord?" he asked in a wavering voice.
Voldemort watched him intently, sensing the shaken quality to his voice, mistaking it for excitement.
"Pity it was only three Muggle murders that it cost." Voldemort smiled again and chuckled. "Grindlewald's stone… would you believe? In a Muggle museum?"
Snape shook his head wordlessly.
Tell me it's a lie, he thought. He felt as if he were being strangled.
The only trace of the Dark Lord Grindlewald since his downfall was in the hands of the Death Eaters. And now the magic it contained was to destroy Albus Dumbledore. Now, before he, Severus Snape, had ever had a chance to say anything fond… even a thank you.
His face remained stone deadpan.
"And they have taken the stone to kill him, my lord?" Snape hoped Lucius' thick head had not processed the details pertaining to the magic of the Death Stone, but he knew his hopes were in vain.
"No, Severus, I am the Great Dark Lord Voldemort, and you don't give me enough credit. I know that the Stone alone could not kill the great Albus Dumbledore."
"No."
"They have taken the Elixir." He laughed. "They plan to give him a taste. This is marvelous news, don't you agree, Severus?" His eyes gleamed.
Snape resisted the urge to vomit.
"An old man is no match for two strong Death Eaters and the Elixir of Death, Severus. I do so hope you had the chance to tell him how much you appreciated his hospitality."
"I had no idea the stone was still a threat in existence, my lord," Snape said, feigning excitement.
"A threat?" Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
"To Dumbledore," Snape asserted.
"Yes, Severus. I assure you that it is… and now was."
"You could have told me, my lord," Snape said clearly, his anger and emotion boiling under his skin, aching to rise.
Voldemort sensed his anger, though not it's placement. He delighted in every second of it, assuming Snape was angry at his lost position in the ranks. When really, his shriveled heart could never know the excruciating guilt and sadness that was taking over the younger man's brain… because Severus had lost the one who loved him most when he was least loveable.
"I could have, Severus," Voldemort said coldly as he rose from his chair. "I could have."
……………………………..
"My father was the Great Vartan Parajanov, renowned seer and son of the last king of Wizarding Armenia – the wizards of Armenia were still royal then. His marriage was arranged to a princess he did not love, so he fled the country and found his heart in England."
"I had wondered where you were from," Hermione interrupted. "Though your accent is a little hard to place, almost like a mix of a few…"
"Well I have been on the run half my life, Hermione, but I'll get to that point."
"Please, continue then," Hermione said quickly as she stretched her legs on the comforter.
"Well, Sylvia Snape, Severus' older sister, was said to be the most beautiful woman in Wizarding Britain, and though her family – our family – was infamously known for their involvement with the Dark Arts, Sylvia put her skills into becoming an Auror without the rest of the family's knowledge.
Ironically, my parents met the night the Dark Lord returned, when the Aurors my mother worked for invaded an abandoned house believed to be inhabited by Death Eaters and instead found my father. It was the night Severus decided to return to the light after so many years, the night the Potters were killed."
Hermione exhaled shakily and Yeva checked to see if she was still listening. Hermione motioned for her to continue.
"It was my father's wish to marry my mother and return to Armenia as king, but he never made it back to his homeland. The Dark Lord returned again when I was 10 years old, and once he realized Severus had betrayed him and returned to Dumbledore, he quickly took out his anger on my parents. In his rage, he burned Snape Manor to the ground, killing my grandparents and all trace of the Snape bloodline."
"Dear gods," Hermione said through a gasp before she motioned for Yeva to continue.
"One night, our small house in London was attacked. A Death Eater pressed his wand to my throat and threatened my life. My parents had no choice but to sell their soul to the Dark Lord in exchange for my survival.
Nothing can prepare a child for their parents' farewell. And their last words to me will haunt my mind, possibly forever… and still I don't want to forget."
Hermione immediately thought of Harry.
"My father rolled me into his strong arms and looked at me with those deep blue eyes of his.
'My Yeva,' he said. 'Don't you ever forget how much I love you.'
'Daddy!' I screamed when they dragged him away.
That was when my mother grabbed my hand. Her black hair had been undone from the braid in her struggle, and tears were falling freely from her eyes.
The monsters held her too far away to hold me, but her hand squeezed mine tightly.
'I love you, Yeva, I will always love you,' I remember her saying desperately through choked sobs. 'Be brave, my little princess.'
And then they were gone.
They were killed a day later. The Daily Prophet noted unknown causes, but my little heart knew it was the Death Eaters. My ten-year-old heart knew the Demon Lord Voldemort had returned, even if it took the rest of the world five more years to believe."
Hermione's face was wet with tears and her eyes were puffy.
"You're a princess," she said with a smile.
"Yes, I am." Yeva smiled a little through her own tears. "It doesn't mean much anymore."
"I think it does," Hermione said as she rearranged the pillows behind her head. "Where did you go from there?"
Yeva bit her lip. Crookshanks stirred a little at the foot of the bed and he began to purr.
"The next thing I knew I was on a train to Durmstrang, where I spent the next six miserable years of my life. Have you ever been there?"
"No."
"You should be happy then," Yeva replied. "I had no friends because I refused to involve myself with black magic. The Dark Arts were taught freely and the professors were all Death Eaters. Headmaster Karkaroff was one who was actually fairly decent. Looking at him there was no doubt he had been a Death Eater with his short temper and fits of rage, but he had family ties with me, explained that a cousin of mine had once been engaged to him before she died. Since I was a year younger than the rest of the first-years when I arrived, Karkaroff allowed me to spend my first year in rooms he built off the side of his study. Most days he was very unpleasant and did not allow me much freedom around the castle. But sometimes, rarely, he would spend time teaching me Defense Against the Dark Arts spells and showing me pictures of my cousin Ani, who had once been his fiancé.
I felt sorry for the man more than anything. He treated me like the daughter he never had, and now, he's dead. Somehow it's not surprising. It seems that all those who were ever kind to me are gone."
"I'm here," Hermione chimed.
"I know," Yeva said as she pursed her lips. A thoughtful expression came over her face, and she continued with her story.
"Shortly after Headmaster Karkaroff was killed for his refusal to return to the Dark Lord, I received a letter by owl. It was late and most of my roommates were asleep. I couldn't believe my eyes when I found it was from Severus, informing me that he had no idea I was still alive, and that he wished to bring me to Hogwarts at once. My heart skipped a beat when I realized my uncle had survived all those years and I hopped off my bed that instant and started packing.
Ever since I came to Hogwarts the world seems like a dream. For what I've been through, this place is heaven. And I know that it is more than I could ever ask for.
On the night of my return I was taken to a revel and forced to take the Dark Mark after Severus assured me it was necessary for the promise of my safety… you understand."
Hermione nodded.
"I was reunited, very unfortunately, with Draco Malfoy, who had been a childhood playmate, mostly at my mother's Christmas parties. He hasn't grown all that much since he was crawling around Snape Manor as a toddler, I'll tell you."
Hermione let herself laugh a little.
"Yes, and now I'm here, sixth-year Slytherin at Hogwarts, and I couldn't be better under the circumstances."
"Draco still attacked you."
"Yes, and now you understand why I can't do a damn thing about it."
"That doesn't change the fact that I want to hex that slimy bastard to oblivion."
"So do I," Yeva answered sternly. "But still, Severus remains at the top of my worry list." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I came back expecting to find the uncle I knew from childhood – the sarcastically funny, charmingly handsome, brilliant wizard I remembered – not some slowly deteriorating, harsh, broken man stuck in the deadly cycle of spying and pretending. Even I am surprised he's held up this long. I know how much he loves Dumbledore when I see what he's agreed to. I see how loyal he is and it makes my heart ache for him, night and day. I mean this lightly, but he was kinder as a Death Eater. Perhaps because I was one of the few things that made him smile then… He actually played with me when I was little. When I was six he even took me to the Quidditch World Cup. He carried me on his shoulders through the crowd and laughed at my excitement. The happiest I remember seeing him…
I was so young then, but I could sense his hatred of himself. I knew that it came from something deep and painful, the way my grandfather treated him as a boy, the way he was treated at school. But he loved me then, as I'm sure he loves me now…"
The last of Yeva's words had trailed off as if her mind had picked up on something new. The words she had said seemed to spark a hidden emotion in Hermione and she watched her intently.
"You knew Severus was one of us… before I asked." Yeva stated this, without a question.
Hermione lifted herself from the pillows she had reclined against. "Yes, well, when you're friends with Harry Potter, you tend to learn these things." Hermione's sad tone returned to her voice.
"They don't tell me anything," Yeva started again. "About the war or about strategy… Apparently even Death Eaters can be too young to know the truth about what's going on."
"That could be a good thing," Hermione said.
"Not when you're the Dark Lord's chambermaid."
Hermione paled.
"Not a day goes by I do not wish I could be out on the front lines."
"Fighting the light?" Hermione asked slightly puzzled.
"Fighting like Severus." Yeva's eyes filled with pride and it made Hermione's heart skip a beat… for a moment, no longer.
Hermione's chest felt swollen. "He… is amazing," she found herself whisper. "We will be forever in his debt for what he does for us."
Yeva diverted her eyes and smiled half-heartedly.
"You and he had words tonight," she stated plainly.
Hermione's head jerked in surprise - the second time tonight Yeva had caught her off guard.
"We did, yes."
"He is becoming so tragic," Yeva said sadly. "And I am sure you see that."
"Yes." Hermione's eyes became misty again.
Yeva turned once she sensed the deep emotion and blinked. She sat upright and continued to observe Hermione's vacant expression.
"Hermione, before my world turned upside down," Yeva began. "My mother told me of certain emotions even the most skilled Occlumens cannot hide."
Hermione furrowed her brow and gave Yeva a painfully confused expression.
"When I said I did not understand she gave me my first Occlumency lesson." Yeva's smile wavered a bit. "It wasn't until years later, after she had secured her knowledge of the mind magics over me… after her death… that I realized what she truly meant."
Hermione studied the younger girl's pensive face.
"You are in love with Severus."
The words unfurled in the dark room, dangerously melancholy as they made themselves known.
"I –"
"I knew it from the moment I saw you tonight, Hermione. I didn't even have to enter your mind."
"Yeva!"
"Your eyes at the ball, the way you watched him in the garden… I was being dragged away but I could see it there. These things are so subtle, yet I know they are powerful enough to destroy."
Hermione was overwhelmed by her words. "How can you know?" she asked limply.
"Because my mother was a Legilimens and my father was a seer," Yeva replied. "And because everyone who truly appreciates you would realize what in you has changed."
Hermione's face was flushed and her expression sore. Her mind again relived the events of the ball and in the rose garden.
"I am so in love with him," she finally confessed. "If I could have prevented it… I would have done anything in my power to keep from feeling this agony. Forbidden, unrequited love… I swear, Yeva, it's worse than death… worse than torture."
Yeva lamented as she exhaled the breath she held.
"I am in love with him." Hermione laughed in her realization, choking on the lump in her throat. "I'm in love with him," she announced again to Yeva and the dark room.
Three minutes passed before either spoke again.
"Pity even wizards have not found a cure for love," Yeva said.
"Yeva, I've just confessed my love for a man old enough to be my father, who happens to be your uncle, and that's all you have to say?" Hermione was in disbelief.
"What can I say?" Yeva asked.
"Your advice about the situation for starters."
"You won't want to hear it."
"I do."
Yeva cleared her throat and winced. "Hermione, you could love Severus Snape until your face turns blue, until your heart flies out of your chest in desperation, until Merlin returns. I won't lie to you when I say that the chance of him feeling anything in return, even the slightest… is next to none." She smiled half-heartedly. "I've spent many an astronomy class wishing Uncle Severus would be loved… so that he would have something more than war to live for. But his affection has discontinued in these recent weeks… I wonder if each new rare gesture of endearment towards me is somehow a kiss goodbye."
"Don't say that," Hermione said desperately.
"I wouldn't were it not the truth."
A sound of distress escaped Hermione's throat.
"But that doesn't mean I don't want you to love him, no. We all have loads to bear these days, Hermione, and he needs you to love him. Though he may never answer you, he needs you to love him."
"Too late, I couldn't reverse this if I wanted to," Hermione said. "Not with all the magic in the world."
"Then for gods' sakes try, Hermione," Yeva said as she placed a hand on her shoulder. "You have nothing to lose and I'm with you."
