Chapter Eleven: Buried
Severus was wandering the halls of Hogwarts again, unable to sleep after his conversation with Albus. The Bloody Baron trailed after him, invisible, but Severus was used to the chill presence of the Baron joining him on his nightly walks.
In the moment, he had been shocked at Albus' revelations and had not thought further than the fact that Potter had to die. Now, as he walked past silent ghosts and invisible elves, he realised that Potter had to die because he was a Horcrux. And Nagini was possibly another one. He would have felt nauseous had he had any appetite recently. He fluctuated between incandescent fury at the Headmaster and the cold calm he relied upon to pull through in difficult situations.
It wasn't even the fault of the Headmaster—it wasn't as if he had been the one to cast the Killing Curse in the first place. But Albus had been deceptive.
Severus paced, robes billowing behind him in the dark.
So this was it. The power that he knows not? Dying? Severus let out a low bitter laugh.
He couldn't stop walking, because if he stopped walking then he would do things, and he didn't trust himself not to pre-emptively kill Albus before his time was due. He walked until he could feel the burn in his legs and the first light of day crept over the skies.
Severus spent the weekend Occluding heavily, meditating on his fresh revelations. Did Potter truly have to die? Was it possible that Albus had overlooked something, and was making a sacrifice where none was necessary? Severus did not feel comfortable interrogating his own reasons for wanting to keep Potter alive, but he had put in so much effort to keep the brat alive up until this point, it seemed a waste to let him die. And Granger! It would be more than just a waste of his time to let Potter die; so many people had suffered, toiled, and died to make sure the boy would live. No, he could not let the boy die just on Albus' word.
Severus respected that Divination was an inexplicable branch of magic with strange powers over life and destiny, but even he knew that prophecies were incredibly tricky business. It did not necessarily follow that either Potter or Voldemort had to kill each other; either way, there was the business of the Horcruxes—plural—to deal with.
And then there was the disturbing business of Dumbledore implying that Lily's life had shielded Potter from the Killing Curse.
It was rare for Severus to want the company of other people, but at this moment he wished that he did not work alone. Asking Dumbledore for assistance was out of the question. The closest he had to a trustworthy ally was Granger and, to an extent, Kingsley, but Kingsley was busy with the Ministry and Granger would have to be handled carefully. It would not be out of character for her to sacrifice her life so that Potter could be shielded from the Killing Curse twice, even if the mechanics of such a protection were unknown as more people would have been surviving Killing Curses if it was truly so simple as to step in front of one for another. But, if given a choice, Severus knew that Granger would not hesitate to take a Killing Curse for Potter, and he did not want to see that come to pass.
Still, it would not be a bad idea to have her assist with the search on how to destroy Horcruxes. Severus was positive that was the task Dumbledore had set for Potter, and he was just as certain that it would be Granger who would figure out how to complete the task in the end if not for his intervention.
It would be important for Granger to be discreet about the Horcruxes. While Potter might not suspect anything of Granger knowing things that she had no business putting her nose in, he knew that Dumbledore would know exactly where Potter got his information from, and would make the connection to her. The idea of Granger gaining more attention from the Headmaster made him uncomfortable. Albus did not need more cannon fodder.
The next week, he waited a little longer than usual for Granger to arrive. She tripped through the door five minutes later than her usual time, cheeks flushed, narrowly avoiding crashing into a desk that was near the doorway.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor. I was helping Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing and lost track of time," she said in a rush, setting her bag down at an empty desk, anxiously smoothing out her robes.
"Calm yourself," Severus said. "How is Mr Weasley recovering?" he asked.
The Weasley boy's poisoning had been Draco's doing, he was certain. Dumbledore was certain. It had been another headache that he had to deal with over the weekend; the poison that Weasley ingested had been a simple one to counteract but would require multiple applications of an antidote in large quantities, and he had spent a good portion of his weekend brewing. Not for the first time, he cursed Slughorn for refusing to brew for the school as a part of his contract, though he did rest easier knowing that the students were consuming his brews. Or Granger's, in many cases.
"Ron is much better, thank you," Granger said with a small smile. "And thank you for making his antidotes," she added. Ah. So Granger was back on speaking terms with the youngest Weasley male.
Severus shrugged off her thanks. "I have a few delicate matters to discuss with you," he said stiffly, standing from his desk.
"Alright."
Severus shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to pace. "Read this and burn it," he said, shoving a small scroll of parchment at her.
Granger's eyes widened when she read the parchment. Severus could not see it, but he could clearly see in his mind the spiky handwriting that read "Severus Snape lives at the last house on Spinner's End".
"If you've memorised it, burn it now," Severus said, his entire body tense.
Granger read through the note once more before setting it on fire wandlessly with a small blue flame. The smell of burning parchment briefly filled the air. "Is this…?" Her brows knitted together.
"A last resort. My home has recently been Secret Kept, and no one aside from Dumbledore has access. If you ever find yourself in a situation with no hope and do not know where else to turn…" Severus trailed off. He was grateful that Voldemort had invited all Death Eaters to relocate to Malfoy Manor, which had led to a permanent relocation for Wormtail, and subsequently a loss of interest from Voldemort into his private living arrangements.
There was an unreadable expression on her face. He cleared his throat. "As a precautionary measure, of course."
"Of course," she said.
Severus felt uncomfortable. He nearly wanted to retract his offer—what was he thinking? Soon he would have killed the Headmaster and Granger would never use his safehouse. But he needed to do something to feel like he was helping, and she could always—just in case another Department of Mysteries happened—
"On a different topic, I need to know exactly what Potter has been learning from the Headmaster. I may have found some information on Horcruxes, but I do not wish to interfere with the Headmaster's plans for the speed at which Potter acquires this information," Severus brought up, still uneasy for the degree of trust he was showing her.
She looked at him with a thoughtful look on her face. "The Headmaster…" she said, looking straight at Severus as if she was connecting dots in her mind.
"The Headmaster…?" he prompted.
"The Headmaster has been teaching Harry about Voldemort's background, as I've explained before. And he hasn't had a session since he told Harry to retrieve a memory from Professor Slughorn. They've been viewing memories, you see…" she said, and then went into a detailed description of what she had heard from Harry about the memories he had viewed with Dumbledore.
Severus felt the tension in his body build up the longer he listened to Granger's incredibly detailed accounts of the memories that Potter had viewed with the Headmaster. What did the Headmaster intend for Potter to understand by viewing the memories? Why not tell the boy what Horcruxes were now? What significance could Slughorn's memories possibly hold? Why was the Headmaster not teaching Potter anything of use against the Dark Lord—Occlumency, defensive jinxes, healing spells—anything? It was not for the first time since sustaining the hand injury that Severus suspected Albus was not entirely in his right mind. He knew Albus cared for the boy—and Albus also knew Voldemort was searching for a new wand. Priori Incantatem would not protect Potter forever, and Albus' time was running short. He knew Albus meant for the boy to die eventually, but at this rate, Potter would get himself killed at the first confrontation. What was he thinking?
"That's enough," Severus said, as Granger started speculating on how Slughorn had modified his own memories. She fell silent immediately.
"Do you want to know what a Horcrux is?" Severus asked.
"Yes, of course!" she said.
"A Horcrux is a violation of nature, as it involves splitting the very fabric of your soul and leaving it in a receptacle…" Severus began. Granger, to her credit, did not look surprised, only grimly determined. She promised she would not tell Harry for the time being, and that she would continue to help research ways to destroy Horcruxes. Severus was of the opinion the Headmaster knew exactly how to destroy Horcruxes, and was yet again withholding information. It was strange how eager Granger seemed to keep this information between the two of them, but perhaps she too was apprehensive of her friend's rash nature. They finished the evening with only a show of preparing potions ingredients, and split for the night with polite nods.
Imagine your destination and visualise yourself appearing there.
Hermione had been running through mental exercises for Apparition ever since they had started the lessons, and she had seen how much the precision of her spellwork had increased from her practice of Occlumency. She had been reading up on how to Apparate to destinations when only given coordinates or an address; this was trickier than the beginner's practice of Apparating to places they were able to visualise, but a much more useful skill. The trick, of course, was to imagine themselves in a place that they did not know the appearance of.
Luna glanced up at Hermione from her homework and frowned.
"You know, people who try to Apparate without a clear destination in mind can get lost in the In-Between Lands," Luna said in a very concerned voice.
Hermione hummed an agreement without thinking, and then paused.
"Luna?"
"Yes?"
"How did you know what I was reading?" Hermione asked, a minor sense of dread welling up inside her. She had often felt as if Luna could see right through people, or could read their minds, and suddenly realised that it was a very real possibility.
"I was reading you," Luna responded simply. Hermione took a moment to process Luna's answer.
"You...are you a Legilimens?" Hermione asked, voice dropping to a whisper.
Luna tilted her head to the side and seemed to consider her answer before speaking. "Some people would call it that, yes, but I'm not trained in the same way most Legilimens are," she said quietly. "I was born like this."
Hermione's cheeks flushed as she had a brief and horrifying flashback to every unkind thought she ever had of Luna in her presence.
"I just—you can't just go around reading people's minds!" Hermione whispered, blushing furiously.
Luna remained calm and frowned at her essay.
"I try not to," Luna said. "But I can't help it if people think too loud," she said in a matter-of-fact voice. "You've been thinking a lot more quietly lately. I think Professor Snape did a good job teaching you; you're almost as quiet as he is now and he's the quietest thinker in the castle. You always used to think incredibly loudly," she added.
Hermione let out a strangled laugh. "Thank you?" she choked out, slightly speechless, and slightly horrified at the number of secrets Harry and Ron probably had given away by just being in Luna's presence. No wonder Luna had been so devoted to the DA, and found it difficult making friends. Hermione knew that she had nothing to worry about as far as secret-keeping went, as Luna never gossiped. Still, she felt poorly for all of the unkind things she used to think about Luna, and thought about how difficult it had to be for the girl to just hear thoughts all the time.
"Luna, I'm so sorry about what I used to think," she said.
"You're kind. People often think ridiculous things about things they don't understand. But you understand a little better now, and you're a good friend," Luna smiled, briefly glancing up from her homework.
Hermione was disorientated again, at how easy and simple Luna made things. She couldn't find the right words to say any of her thoughts and feelings at the moment. Perhaps with Luna finding the right thing to say really was unnecessary.
Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. "You're a good friend, too."
"You think so?" Luna asked, a little shy.
"Yes, definitely," Hermione said, more self-assured. Even though Luna could read thoughts, it seemed like she needed the reassurance of words just like everyone else.
Hermione was having a bit of a book issue.
The problem with books wasn't that they were sometimes biased, or straight-up false. The problem wasn't even that they lied about romance and utterly failed to prepare you for the reality of getting together with your childhood crush who in hindsight was probably not suitable to be the love of your life. The problem was that sometimes, books were a colossal waste of her time and she was getting sick of it.
How many books on the Dark Arts did Snape need, really? Why did he seem to only assign her the most irrelevant ones to comb through for a solution to destroying Horcruxes?
Hermione appreciated that Snape was extending her a privilege in sharing his book collection with her, and appreciated that he had nicely indexed his books, but for once she almost wished she was whispering about the upcoming Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor instead of doing research to possibly help save the wizarding world.
Why did she have to do all Harry's dirty work for him? Hermione scowled down at the current tome she was skimming through.
"Something the matter?" Snape asked, sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed. It was unfair how relaxed and unruffled he looked, Hermione thought.
Hermione debated telling Snape the truth, but she figured if he could trust her to keep his confidences, and if he was experiencing his difficulties with Dumbledore—not that she would ever let on what Hagrid said—then she could be honest with him as well. It had been a week since he had snapped at her in any way and it was strange that he wasn't being choleric. His choleric moods were actually preferable to his current moods, which verged on melancholic.
"This...isn't what I imagined when I signed up to help Harry," Hermione admitted. "I mean, it's nothing different from all the times I've helped him before—he gets into trouble, I look in a library to find solutions, he ignores half my solution and gets himself nearly killed while whatever answer I find gives him enough of an edge to keep from dying," she said, fidgeting slightly to stop herself from talking more.
Snape scoffed, but his face held no signs of distaste. "That's an accurate assessment of what generally happens, yes," he said. "But that has never stopped you from jumping to Potter's rescue before. Why is this any different?"
"It's not, not really. This is just a bit more difficult than finding out the monster slithering through the walls of Hogwarts was a Basilisk." Hermione smiled ruefully.
She half expected Snape to ask her what she was expecting when she started to look into obscure Dark Arts practices but, instead, he surprised her. "Why don't we study where to find common potion ingredients in England? You'll need access to ingredients if you ever find it difficult to approach an apothecary," Snape said.
"Really?"
"The Horcrux research is important, but we don't know what these objects are, to begin with. Preparing you is just as dire," Snape said. He rummaged around a desk drawer for a moment, before pulling out a thick leather-bound book with gilt title, Potions Ingredients of the British Isles.
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "That book costs a fortune! And it's been sold out at Flourish and Blotts for ages!"
Snape narrowed his eyes at her. "Can I trust you not to run off with my personal belongings?"
Hemione's fingers twitched to hold the book. "Of course, sir. Why would you question that?" she asked in a remarkably even tone she learned from the man himself. Technically she had never stolen from Snape directly, only the school stores…
"Why indeed?" he asked with a pointed look, but slid the book over. "You may copy notes from this, but I cannot lend you this as I have need of it. Take care to only copy what you need, and pay special attention to the section on ingredients for healing potions…"
Hermione hardly paid attention to him while she eagerly opened up the book, taking in Snape's extensive handwritten notes in the margins. She always felt a little unsettled when she saw people writing in books, but it must've been a more common practice than she thought. First the Half-Blood Prince, and now Snape.
The next day Hermione had dark circles under her eyes that she had painstakingly charmed to match the rest of her face in colour. There had been a ridiculous Quidditch match against Hufflepuff; Luna had been commentating, and McLaggen had shot a Bludger at Harry's skull. Hermione had felt sick when Harry began his nose-dive towards earth, and didn't feel any better even though the professors had stopped him from falling to his death. Quidditch was going to finish Harry off before Voldemort could ever get close enough, and there was nothing Hermione could do about it.
With both Ron and Harry in the Hospital Wing with limited visiting hours, Hermione settled for easing her nerves by taking a walk around the Great Lake with Luna and Ginny.
It had been awkward reconnecting with Ron as a friend, especially when he had split with Lavender, but it was also good getting her other best friend back, even though things between them were not as easy as they had been before the split.
Ron kept on shooting her expectant looks and standing close to her, and she didn't know what to do about it.
It was early March, and the weather was still chilly and damp, though the snow had melted and small green shoots were starting to appear in the earth. They huddled together close on some large rocks near the lake which was currently a dark slate grey, reflecting the cloudy sky above. They each held a small jar of bluebell flames. Luna had learned the trick from Hermione and her own jar of flames were lavender coloured.
"Luna?" Hermione asked, after a few minutes of companionable silence.
"Hmm?"
"Did your father ever publish the article on Muggles?" Hermione asked.
"Oh yes, it came out two weeks ago," Luna said. She put down her jar of flames and rummaged in her book bag. A moment later she took out a folded copy of The Quibbler.
Hermione scrunched up her forehead as she read through a fairly informative article on the Muggle UN. It was surprisingly well-written, and didn't read in the usual style of The Quibbler.
"Why aren't people talking about this?" she asked.
"Talking about what?" Ginny asked, shaking herself out of her reverie.
"This. This article on Muggles and how they've made great strides in international cooperation and peace," Hermione said, poking at the paper, upset.
"Oh. That was…" Ginny looked uncomfortable.
"That was…?" Hermione turned to Ginny.
"People don't usually talk about articles in daddy's paper," Luna said, and took out a braid of woven grass, which she was adding strands to.
"And doesn't it sound a bit...unbelievable? I mean, wizards can barely cooperate with each other, and there are so much fewer of us than Muggles," Ginny said.
"Unbelievable," Hermione repeated. "Unbelievable," she said again, suddenly enraged. She abruptly stood up and shoved the paper into her bag.
"Is it very important that people talk about this article?" Luna asked.
"I—yes," said Hermione, taking a step away.
"Hermione—where are you going?" Ginny asked, also leaving their rock. Luna didn't follow.
"I just need to walk—and think," Hermione said, stalking off, suddenly too overwhelmed to speak to her friends. She should have realised that publishing in The Quibbler would have affected the credibility of the article, but it had worked well the last time they needed to get information out to the wizarding world.
She let out a muffled scream into her lumpy hand-knit mittens. She didn't have time to be writing articles on Muggles. She barely had time to keep on top of all her NEWT classes, prepare for the upcoming year, research Horcruxes, brew potions with Snape, help Madame Pomfrey, and deal with Harry and Ron. She was stretched to her breaking point. She couldn't do everything.
"Hermione?" Ginny had followed after her after giving her a moment. She scowled as she brushed her brilliant red hair out of her face from the wind.
Hermione took a deep breath and counted to ten in her head.
"What?"
"You know you can't fix everything."
"I know." Hermione ground her teeth.
"Okay," Ginny said. "I just don't want you to be too disappointed…you can't change the way wizards think with just one newspaper article," she added uncomfortably.
"I know," Hermione said impatiently. "I need to think alone for a moment," she said. "Thank you," she added, voice softening.
"All right," Ginny shrugged, and walked away.
Hermione sighed and rubbed her face with her mittens. A voice inside her head—which sounded remarkably like Snape—told her she was overreacting, and that it was unrealistic to expect to single-handedly solve all of the issues in the wizarding world. The threat to Harry's life was more pressing. She had to prioritise. But every time she thought of Muggle-borns dying she felt the urgent need to do something, but there was nothing she could do in school. She was sleeping as little as possible already, she literally could not do more. She pressed her mittens to her eyes as tears leaked out. It seemed as if nothing was going right.
A few days later, when Hermione heard from Harry about his latest lesson with Dumbledore where they discussed Tom Riddle's previous return to Hogwarts and the cursed Defense position, she wondered if she had to fear for Snape as well.
It was a curious idea, that someone could curse a position—and no Defense professor had lasted beyond a year—but the fact that Dumbledore knew this and allowed Snape to take the position meant he did not plan for Snape to be around after the year was out. All the professors in the position had met with bad ends: Quirrell had died, Lockhart had lost his memories, Remus had been outed as a werewolf, Moody had been locked in a trunk for a year, and Umbridge had been run off by centaurs. When she mentioned this part of Harry's lesson to Snape he brushed her off and said it was none of her concern.
At the end of that night, they agreed Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup were both likely Horcruxes. After she had suggested one of them could be the Horcrux, Snape had asked why they both couldn't be.
Hermione knew she had no time for it, but she wondered how difficult it would be to break the curse on the DADA position. Was this what Snape no longer wanted to do for Dumbledore? Did he no longer want to teach? It was none of her business, but she worried. It didn't sit well with her, that Dumbledore and Snape both knew the position was cursed, but Snape was still teaching.
"You'll be taking me Side-Along," Severus said, repeating himself.
"I've never done this before," Granger said, looking distinctly ill.
"You've successfully Apparated more than three times before, have you not?" Severus asked, starting to lose patience.
"Yes, but—"
"So I have every faith that you will accomplish this task with every bit of your insufferable perfectionism as you do in all that you set out to do," he said, repressing a sigh. "You do know the theory behind this, don't you?"
"Well, yes…" Granger said, looking less ill at ease.
"What are you waiting for then? Take my arm and Apparate," said Severus.
Granger's hand hovered over his forearm, before reaching down to firmly grasp it. Severus noted dimly that he could feel the warmth of her palm before he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and the feeling of being compressed in a tube that usually accompanied Apparition. It was slower and jerkier than his usual trip, but they both landed in the back garden of the Grangers with all their limbs intact. Granger stumbled, and he automatically reached out to steady her, before withdrawing his arms quickly.
Granger hunched over, and wound her arms around her middle, catching her breath. "I did it," she said with clear disbelief.
"Obviously," Severus said, taking a moment to orient himself as well.
Severus bit his lip to stop himself from once again confirming that Granger wanted him to be the one to help her Secret Keep her parents' estate. He had been surprised when Granger said that after dissolving their practice and cashing out their retirement savings the Grangers had not needed to sell their house to fund their retirement in Australia, and that she had planned on keeping it so they would have a base for when the Ministry fell. Of course, he agreed to help her Secret Keep it; he was starting to wonder who was helping who in their arrangement. When he took her on to keep Potter safe he never imagined sending her parents to Australia or offering to Secret Keep her house.
"Are you ready?" he asked, studying her face. Her face was pale, but the set of her mouth was determined. She nodded and withdrew her wand.
He walked to the other side of the property and raised sparks to let her know that he was ready. He counted to three, and then started casting, slipping into the tempo that they had practised at Hogwarts. He walked around the perimeter of her home, languidly waving his wand in the opposite motion of what he knew Granger was working in, speaking the Latin phrases in time with her. Soon, he reached the spot that he had last seen her in, and raised his wand for the final incantation.
"Tenere," he said clearly, and lifted his wand up. Slowly, the property dissolved from view, as if it had been slowly swallowed by fog, and as it grew fainter he could feel a slow tingle spread throughout his chest. It burned and froze his heart at the same time. Just when the pain became nearly unbearable the property disappeared from view, and he felt the knowledge of its location bury itself deep within his soul.
He walked to where Granger was standing, and wordlessly handed her an Invigoration Draught before taking one himself. He was drained from the amount of magic that casting had required, but it was done.
"You can Obliviate me now, if you wish," he said when she finished drinking.
Granger shook her head. "I trust you," she said.
Severus wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that soon he would betray her and that she would regret this decision and that she would think that she had done this all for naught, but he couldn't find the words. He swallowed.
"That is foolish," he finally said.
"Well, that was a bit of foolish wand-waving, and now here is a bit of foolish trust." She shrugged.
Severus scowled. "If you insist," he said, then turned to leave.
"Professor?" Hermione called out, as he took a few steps away.
"What is it?"
"Thank you for your help. It really means a lot to me," she said.
Severus closed his eyes. "You will need all the help you can get to keep Potter alive," he said, and then thought better of saying anything else.
"Of course," she said. "Safe travels," she added.
"And you, Miss Granger," he said, and Apparated.
AN: thanks everyone for the reviews last chapter! The story's really starting to pick up now, and I'm very excited for what's to come. :)