Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 35
Without waiting to be told, Hermione turned from the two wizards who were staring at one another, one in anger, the other in undisguisable horror. She took a pinch of Floo powder and stuck her head into the flames, calling out for Professor McGonagall's office.
She was reluctant to even turn away, but the rational side of her brain was somehow still working and she knew the Headmaster had to be told what had happened. Perhaps, if they acted quickly, they could salvage something from the situation and win back the Slytherin's already-shattered trust in them.
Thankfully, the Deputy Headmistress was at her desk when the office spun into view.
"Miss Granger," the older woman said in surprise, "is something the matter?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor, but yes."
"What is it, and where are you?" McGonagall questioned, rising from her desk quickly and crossing the room to the fireplace.
"Can you contact Professor Dumbledore," she asked, "and ask him to come back as soon as he can? I know he's out of the school, but this is urgent, Professor."
"Yes, of course I can fetch the Headmaster, Miss Granger, but where are you?"
"In Severus' quarters, Professor."
The Head of Gryffindor narrowed her eyes slightly at that, and then queried, "Has something happened to Severus?"
"No," Hermione said quickly. Then, seeing it was the only way her teacher would act quickly, added, "but Draco Malfoy is here with us."
McGonagall visibly jumped at the news, her face paling.
"My goodness!" she exclaimed. "I will fetch the Headmaster right away. Wait with the others until he arrives."
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, withdrawing her head from the fireplace and standing up back in the sitting room.
In the time she had been occupied, Snape had sunk into the nearest armchair, but Malfoy was still standing, glaring at his former Head of House.
"Say something, for Merlin's sake," he spat at the older man as Hermione stepped towards them. "Don't just fucking sit there like you had no idea this was going to happen. You knew it would come to this; you knew I would have to take the Mark, and you did nothing. Nothing."
"Draco, I don't..." Snape began, but broke off helplessly. "What would you have had me do?"
"Anything!" the blonde yelled, his wild-eyed appearance giving away his hysteria. "Anything but just letting it happen."
"If I could have..." Snape started to reply, but again stopped, realising the futility of his words. His eyes, dark and hollow, briefly flickered in Hermione's direction, and she had to suppress the urge to reach out to him in front of Malfoy.
"Professor Dumbledore is on his way," she said softly. Malfoy glanced up at her as though only just recalling her presence.
"What good can that old fool do?" Malfoy muttered bitterly, turning away from both Hermione and his former Head of House. "He has no interest in helping me, either."
"Do you truly believe that, Draco?" Snape enquired softly, his gaze mirroring the torment in the boy's eyes.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," the blonde said, finally sinking down into the chair opposite Snape and bringing one shaking hand to his face.
"What do you want, Draco?" Snape asked. Hermione held her breath as the Slytherin's gaze dropped to the dark miasma coiled in his left forearm. It was a simple question, but the gravity of its meaning, and his response, could have far-reaching consequences for them all.
"I don't... I don't know," he finally said.
"Let me rephrase, then... If the Headmaster had asked you one month ago what you wanted, what would your answer have been?"
"I..." Malfoy faltered again, looking around the room as though something within it held his answer. His gaze settled on his exposed arm again, and he pulled his sleeve back down before finally looking up at Snape. "Anything but this."
"And now?"
"Does it matter?"
Seeming to have recovered somewhat from the initial shock of Malfoy's revelation, Snape set his face in a determined expression and stood, moving forwards until he was standing in front of Malfoy's chair. Leaning down to regard the younger wizard, he braced his hands on the armrests and said firmly, "It does."
When the Head Boy looked away, Snape persisted. Gesturing to the Slytherin's left arm, he continued, "This choice has been taken from you, but that does not mean everything else has been decided."
Malfoy eyed his former Head of House uncertainly, and then his gaze flickered to Hermione, who was watching, feeling like an intruder on a scene in which she had no part.
She nodded encouragingly at him, though, despite having no idea what to say.
A moment later, the fireplace behind her flared green, and while no one came through, the Deputy Headmistress' voice called out, "Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, Severus, if you could join us in the Headmaster's office, please?"
"We shall be there momentarily, Minerva," Snape replied.
Malfoy moved to stand up, but the older man was still leaning down on his chair, preventing him.
"Draco," Snape said.
"What?" he replied, staring too carefully at his hands, clenched in his lap.
When he realised the boy wasn't going to look at him, Snape sighed and simply said, "I am truly sorry for what has happened."
If Malfoy didn't recognise the gravity of the words, Hermione certainly did. She knew how much Snape regretted ever having joined the Death Eaters himself, and to have someone who had spent six years under his charge be forced to unwillingly follow the same road must have been a terrible blow.
Snape straightened and stepped back, and the Slytherin rose and strode past Hermione to the fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo powder. Before he stepped into the flames, though, he turned back and regarded them both watching him.
"Thanks," he said to Snape, an odd tone in his voice. "I know you mean it... it's just... a bit late for sorry."
He turned and disappeared through to the Headmaster's office, and Hermione turned back to Snape as he closed his eyes and clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides.
"Severus, I-"
"Don't." His face was carefully schooled, but when he opened his eyes she could see the turmoil roiling in their depths.
She made to reach out to him again, but he brushed her off, crossing to the fireplace and holding out the jar of Floo powder to her.
"We better not keep them waiting," he said tightly.
Sighing, she gave him one last sympathetic glance and followed Malfoy. Through the dizzying whoosh of Floo travel, she could have sworn she heard the smash of something breaking.
A short time later, having explained exactly how Malfoy's discovery of Severus had come to pass, an uncomfortable silence fell upon the Headmaster's office. McGonagall had regretfully excused herself, having detentions to oversee, but Snape, Hermione, Malfoy and the Headmaster remained to attempt to resolve the situation.
The pot of tea on the coffee table was untouched by any of them, and even the bowl of sherbet lemons was forgotten as the Headmaster regarded the Head Boy over the top of his glasses. The old man looked positively haggard tonight, Hermione thought, and it had only been the chair directly behind him that had prevented him from dropping to the floor when Malfoy had revealed his Dark Mark to the aging wizard.
Discomfited by the scrutiny, Malfoy glanced around the room, his gaze meeting Hermione's for a brief moment. She arranged her face into what she hoped was a smile instead of a grimace; he returned the gesture in kind – definitely more of a grimace – and then his eyes moved to the dark-haired man who was pacing a ceaseless track on the stone floor before the fireplace. Hermione watched as Malfoy scowled at the older man; he seemed more hurt than angry that Severus hadn't reached out to him, and Hermione only hoped he would realise why it hadn't been possible. She sensed Malfoy would need all the help he could get now, most especially from the former Death Eater and spy.
"What are we to do now, sir?' Hermione finally asked when the silence became too much to bear.
All eyes turned to Dumbledore, who eyed the young Slytherin for a moment longer before speaking.
"That," he said, "is entirely up to Mr Malfoy."
"Me?" he said uncertainly. Despite his current mistrust of Snape, Hermione noticed that it was to his former Head of House his gaze first travelled, and the older man nodded once.
"What do you want, Mr Malfoy?" The Headmaster's question echoed the one Severus had asked earlier, and this time, though still uncertain and frightened, Malfoy was prepared for it. He looked evenly at the Headmaster, resolve in his eyes.
"I know it's too late to back out of this," he said, raising his left arm slightly as he spoke, "but I can't stand by and watch... and have to do... the things he does. I never thought it would be like this… this... it's wrong."
He broke off for a moment to take a deep, shaky breath.
"If I can... can use it somehow to help... to stop the things he does, to stop him... let me do it."
His words hung in the air, and Hermione noticed Dumbledore had a glint in his eyes, sad though they still were.
"You realise what you would be committing yourself to, Mr Malfoy? You are prepared to go against even your own family?"
Malfoy paled slightly, but then his grey eyes hardened and he said firmly, "Yes."
Snape made an inarticulate noise, and the Headmaster glanced in his direction.
"Something to add, Severus?"
He shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face as he said, "I know where this is leading, and I cannot believe you would ask this of another, Albus."
"What would you have me do, Severus?" Dumbledore asked sharply. "Confine him to castle? His father would find a way to reach him, and that would be the end of it."
"And if you send him out there unprepared, he will be killed," Snape returned just as sharply. "Do you want that on your conscience, Albus, or has that conveniently deserted you again?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, though, Snape's shoulders dropped and he turned back to the fireplace, bracing his arms on the mantle.
"Forgive me, Albus," he said in a low voice. "That was uncalled for."
"On the contrary, my boy," the Headmaster replied softly. "I am quite deserving of it, and I understand how difficult this is for you."
"For him?" Malfoy cut in. "It's got nothing to do with him."
"Draco-" Dumbledore began, only to be cut off again.
"No, I'm sorry, sir. He's not my Head of House anymore, and he lost any respect I had for him when he ignored what he knew would happen – what has happened."
"Seven years," Malfoy went on, keeping his gaze carefully fixed on Dumbledore. "Seven years and he didn't know me well enough to trust me, well enough to take a chance."
Out the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Snape move from the fireplace to the window, putting more distance between himself and the other occupants of the room. His arms folded over his chest, his posture stiff, as he gazed wordlessly out across the dark landscape.
"Severus is under his own obligation to me," the Headmaster explained. "He could not have reached out to you, even though more than once he expressed concerns over what would transpose if we did not. If anyone deserves your blame, it is I."
"It's true, Draco," Hermione said softly, hoping her use of his first name would emphasise her sincerity.
He watched her for a moment, then turned his gaze to Snape, mistrust clear in his eyes.
"Do what you will, Draco," Snape said, sparing the room a glance over his shoulder as he sensed the boy's eyes on him, "but do not take what he asks of you lightly."
"What exactly are you asking of me?" Malfoy asked, looking back at the Headmaster.
"The same thing I asked of Severus when he was in a position similar to yours," the Headmaster said. His voice was soft, but there was an undertone of finality that made Hermione shiver. "I ask a vow of your loyalty – the Unbreakable Vow."
Malfoy inhaled sharply, obviously familiar with the ancient, binding magic.
"I am sorry, my boy, but it is only with that Vow I can allow you to leave this room."
Alive, seemed to echo unspoken around the room, and for the first time Hermione saw in Dumbledore the wizard whom Voldemort feared; kind and caring to most, the aging Headmaster could be decisive and brutal when lives were at stake.
"Will you make the Unbreakable Vow, Draco?" Dumbledore asked.
Hermione saw Malfoy swallow convulsively, but then he nodded and found his voice long enough to utter, "I will."
At that, Snape turned, his eyes holding an uncharacteristic pleading look as he appealed to the Headmaster. "Albus, please. You don't know what you ask of him."
The Headmaster merely shook his head at Snape as much as to say, I have no choice, but Malfoy stood up and rounded on Snape.
"Stop trying to look out for me!" he exclaimed angrily. "It's too late for that. You should have realised before that I'm not my father!"
"Your father," Snape said, advancing on Malfoy, "would sooner kill you than have you turn against him like this."
"And I would sooner kill him than become him!"
Snape stared wordlessly at the younger man, and then shook his head, turning back to the window.
"You say that like you know what it means to take a life," he said, his voice filled with a bleakness Hermione hadn't heard since the Muggle school attacks he had been unable to stop.
Malfoy had the grace to appear mollified, but the Headmaster rose from his chair.
"Please, Mr Malfoy, do not hold Severus to blame for my actions," the old wizard said. Eyeing the dark-haired wizard by the window, he added sadly, "He will take care of that himself."
A snort came from Snape's direction, but the Dumbledore turned to regard Malfoy again.
"You understand that this is the only way?" the Headmaster asked, pinning the boy with a sharp stare.
Malfoy looked apprehensive, but he nodded.
"Good," Dumbledore murmured quietly. "Then let us proceed. Severus, I understand your reservations, but perhaps you might consent to be our Bonder?"
Snape scowled darkly, but before he could respond, Malfoy cut in, "No."
Hermione looked at Malfoy in confusion, and Dumbledore sighed.
"Mr Malfoy," he began wearily.
"Not him," Malfoy said firmly. "I want Hermione to do it."
The shock of hearing him speak her name for the first time was eclipsed by the realisation of what he was asking her to do.
"Me? I don't know what to do!" she exclaimed.
"Don't tell me you haven't seen a Bonding before?" Snape asked snidely, though he knew damn well she had seen one – or, at least, the memory of one. His words seemed biting, but after spending so much time with him she could hear the hurt in his tone. Whether or not he agreed with the Vow, such a blatant show of distrust from Malfoy, a student of his own House, must be difficult for him to take.
She opened her mouth to retort, but the Headmaster spoke up, instead.
"Are you sure, Mr Malfoy?"
Momentarily uncertain, the Slytherin glanced around at his former Head of House. As if feeling the young man's gaze on him again, Snape said, "Make your decision, Mr Malfoy. I care not whom you use to Bind yourself to him as I did. Suffice to say I do not agree."
"Your reluctance is noted, Severus, but you know I have little choice."
"There is always a choice," he spat, spinning around to face the older man. "Trust and faith have as much weight as any magical bonding, if you would but give someone a chance."
The Headmaster held Snape's gaze for a long moment, his own eyes sad and remorseful. It was not lost on Hermione that Snape was no longer referring only to the Head Boy's circumstances. Just as the Vow was now necessary for Draco, so had it been, in the beginning, for Severus. But he had been serving Dumbledore for close to twenty years now; surely the Headmaster didn't doubt him after all this time?
"I'm sorry, Severus. In the current circumstances with Mr Malfoy, I simply cannot take the risk," Dumbledore said. The old wizard's eyes were bright, and for a moment Hermione thought he was going to say something else.
"Do not ask me to be a part of it, then," Snape said, turning away and crossing back to the window. "I will not."
"Mr Malfoy," the Headmaster said, finally pulling his gaze from his wayward charge, "are you satisfied with Hermione being our Bonder?"
Though the young Slytherin had all but demanded Hermione play the part earlier, he was now looking at his former Head of House uncertainly. Realising, perhaps, the mistake he had made in earlier accusing Snape of not wanting to help him, he said quietly, "If no one else is willing..."
"I am not." Snape didn't turn from the window as he spoke, and Malfoy looked away, and then to Hermione.
"Are you?"
She felt like she was betraying Severus by even considering Malfoy's request, but Dumbledore was right, in this case; it was the only way they could trust him with one hundred percent certainty. It had to be done.
She nodded.
Fixing her with a brief, wan smile, the Headmaster said, "Thank you, Hermione." Malfoy echoed in kind, and then followed the Headmaster's gesture to the centre of the room.
Hermione crossed to stand nearby as Dumbledore knelt somewhat painfully on the hard stones; it was a harsh reminder of how old the Headmaster truly was when his knees cracked and one hand grasped the edge of the nearby armchair for momentary support.
Malfoy knelt, too, at the bidding of the old man, but Hermione remained on her feet, standing so both men were in profile to her, and she could see Snape across the room. He was still staring out the window, though Hermione doubted he saw much beyond the confines of his thoughts. She sighed as she withdrew her wand from a pocket; somehow, she knew it was going to come down to her to speak with him later, however black his mood turned out to be.
The movement of the old wizard and young Slytherin joining hands broke her chain of thought, and she stared at their intertwined fingers anxiously.
"Place your wand tip to our hands, Miss Granger," Dumbledore instructed. "Concentrate on my words, and the magic will do the rest."
Hermione complied, and the Headmaster began. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the room seemed to dim around them, the faces of the old wizard and the young one standing out, pale and serious.
"Draco Aulus Malfoy, do you swear loyalty to me, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"
Malfoy cleared his throat with some difficulty, and finally managed to utter hoarsely, "I do."
Unbidden, a shot of orange flame sprang forth from her wand and curled around the joined hands of the Headmaster and Head Boy.
Beyond the glare of the sudden light, Hermione saw Snape turn, and his eyes locked with hers. He seemed calm, but she could see pain and regret in his eyes. With a start, she realised the scene taking place almost exactly mirrored his own Vow. The Bonder was different, but the setting and circumstances were eerily familiar.
"And will you, Draco, support and uphold the ideals of the Order of the Phoenix, the Ministry of Magic and civilised wizarding society, actively assisting us in our work to defeat Tom Riddle and his followers?"
Malfoy swallowed. "I will."
A second tongue of flame wrapped around their hands, curling and hissing as it mingled with the first.
"And are you, Draco Malfoy, prepared to denounce the expectations of your family and Tom Riddle in order to fulfil your duties to me?"
"I am."
A third rope of fire shot from Hermione's wand to join the others, and through the harsh red glow of the magical flames she saw Severus turn away and bow his head.
The fiery tongues vanished as quickly as they had appeared, the air cleared and Hermione let her wand hand drop to her side. As Dumbledore rose and extended a hand to his young charge, Hermione realised she was trembling.
"I commend you, Mr Malfoy," the Headmaster said softly, "on a choice which I know will not be easy for you, and I assure you that all of us shall help you in any way we are able."
Hermione murmured a wordless noise of agreement and smiled tightly at Malfoy.
The Slytherin nodded but didn't speak, his face pale, lips set in a thin line over his clenched jaw.
"And now," Dumbledore said, "Severus, Miss Granger, perhaps you might excuse us. I know you both have many questions for Mr Malfoy, and perhaps some explanations of your own," he looked pointedly at Snape, who scowled and looked away, "but there is much I need to discuss with him first."
Snape made to leave without a word, but he paused when he reached the mantle and turned back to address the young Slytherin.
"I apologise for not trusting you, Draco," he said in his stiffest voice. "After six years of seeing you as your father's son, I simply could not afford to take the risk."
The young man looked away, then, something akin to guilt or remorse flushing his face.
Snape took a pinch of Floo powder and disappeared without waiting for a response.
Hermione bit her lip, looking from the fireplace back to the other occupants of the room.
"It is hard," Dumbledore said slowly, "for him to see anyone set on what appears to be the same path he has been forced onto by ill circumstance."
She nodded, hearing the regret in the Headmaster's voice, too, at what had taken place both tonight and that similar night, many years ago, which she had only seen in a memory.
Fixing Malfoy with another reassuring smile, although not being able to find words to accompany it, she left and Flooed back to Snape's quarters, too.
"Severus?" she called as she stepped out of the hearth. The sitting room was empty, the lab door closed, and she heard a faint noise coming from the bathroom.
As she moved to cross the room, her feet crunched on something grainy, and she looked down to see the shattered remains of the Floo powder jar, the silvery powder strewn across the stone floor.
Sighing, she pulled out her wand, mended the jar and Vanished the ruined powder. His temper had only worsened during the time in Dumbledore's office, but she wasn't about to leave without at least attempting to reach out to him.
Standing in the bathroom doorway after crossing the bedroom, she observed Snape standing at the sink, head bowed, his hands braced on the edge of the hand basin.
"Severus?" she repeated.
"Don't." His voice was so low she could hardly hear it, even in the acoustics of the tiled room. She took a few steps towards him.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know it wasn't my place to-"
"I am not angry with you, Hermione," he said tightly. "But neither am I in any mood for discussion. It would be best if you were to leave, I think."
Hermione stared at him for a beat, observing the tense line of his jaw, half-hidden by the curtain of hair hanging forwards. Then, reluctantly, she backed out of the room, a frown of concern on her face; she hated when he closed up like that, though she knew her unwanted presence would only antagonise him. As much as she was loathe to put herself on the receiving end of that anger, she wondered whether it was better out than in.
She was halfway across the bedroom when the tinkling smash of glass reached her ears. She knew instantly what it was; she should have known better than to think he could control all of his pent-up frustration after something like this.
A repeated dull thud reached her ears next, sending her into action. She ran quickly back to the bathroom and found the source of the thudding; he was pounding his fist into the stone exposed by the shattered mirror.
"Severus!" she exclaimed in alarm. He stopped his violent movement for a moment, grinding his fist against the rough stone with a low growl of frustration.
He dropped his hand as she reached his side. His eyes were closed, lips set in a thin, tight line, and he was breathing quickly through his nose. His left hand was still clenching the porcelain rim of the basin.
She knew better than to make a foolish enquiry as to his well-being. He was obviously not all right. She settled for resting one hand lightly on his back, just below the collar of his shirt. It wasn't a comforting gesture, as such, but just one reminding him of her presence there beside him.
"I thought you'd left," he said finally, his voice hollow and defeated.
"And leave you to take out your anger on poor, harmless mirrors? I don't think so," she chided gently.
"Your newest cause?" he mocked, tilting his head back to regard her out the corner of his eyes. "Society for the Protection of Inanimate Objects?"
"Very funny," she muttered.
Eyeing the reflective shards littered on the floor around them and in the basin, she pulled out her wand.
"Here, step back," she said, moving her hand to grip his arm and lightly pull him away from the mess. "Let me fix that mirror."
He acquiesced, releasing his grasp on the basin, moving back with her as she cast, "Reparo."
The shards flew back into place, and it was only at his sharp gasp of pain that she realised her error. The tiny pieces that had embedded themselves in his knuckles from his repeated pounding of the wall flew back to join the rest of the mirror, the sharp edges tearing his skin as they sought the most direct route to their destination.
"Damn," she cursed as he shook his hand, droplets of blood splattering onto the floor.
"I suppose I deserved that," he commented wryly, examining his hand as the blood continued to run.
"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I didn't think of that. Here give me your hand."
She held out her non-wand hand, palm up, and gestured for him to place his injured hand in hers. He complied, and she felt his eyes on the top of her head as she concentrated on healing the tiny cuts across his knuckles.
"Thank you," he murmured when the last one disappeared and she lowered her wand.
"I'm not done yet," she said firmly. "That's going to bruise unless you put some salve on it. Come on, let's go into the sitting room; it's cold in here."
He nodded and followed her numbly, sitting on the couch while she continued into the lab to retrieve a jar of bruise salve. She sat next to him and uncapped the jar, taking a scoop of the sticky cream on her fingers. Taking his hand in hers, she spread the salve across his knuckles, already colouring from the abuse. She took her time, enjoying the feel of his slender hand under her touch as she massaged each knuckle in turn.
"It was the only thing to do," she said after some time, still not releasing his hand. "You know that."
"It doesn't mean I have to agree with it," he replied tersely.
She waited another minute before asking the question that was bothering her.
"Is that really what you're so angry about, Malfoy being forced to take the Vow? Or is it that Professor Dumbledore won't release you from yours?"
He snatched his hand away from her. "You think me so selfish that I would worry about that after all this time?" he demanded.
"No," she said calmly. "I think you are anything but selfish. I think you're angry that it has come to this with Malfoy, but you know there isn't another way. And I think you're hurt that, for all his trust in you, Professor Dumbledore won't rely on that alone for you to do what he continues to ask of you."
"Why would he," Severus said, a trace of bitterness in his tone, "when he can be guaranteed cooperation without question or argument from me now?"
She didn't answer, but pulled at his folded arms until he released his hand into her own again. The salve was all but absorbed, and she let her touch soften to a light caress, making random circles across the pale skin and up to the cuff of his shirt.
"He's just a boy, Hermione," he said quietly. She looked up at him, but he was staring across the room at nothing in particular.
"He's an adult, really," she corrected. "Still young, but an adult all the same."
Snape shook his head. "He knows nothing of the world beyond what his father has taught him."
"Give him some credit, Severus," she replied. "He has proven tonight he is capable of thinking for himself."
"He's not capable of this, though. The Dark Lord will only have to look at him and sense his betrayal; he'll be dead within weeks."
The complete and utter despair in his voice moved Hermione almost to tears herself, and she hated that there was nothing she could to alleviate any of his worry.
"We'll just have to make sure he's prepared," she finally said.
He tore his hand from hers again, standing up and walking away across the room.
"Damn it, Hermione! You have no idea what it will be like for him. The slightest hint of fear and he will be dead, and not before the Dark Lord had plundered his mind for everything he has learnt from us."
"What else can Malfoy do, though?" she asked softly.
"Nothing." The anger left him as quickly as it had appeared, and he returned to the couch, slumping down next to her. "That is what Dumbledore asks of him, and so that is what he will have to do whether he is capable of succeeding or not."
"Will you help him?
"Of course," he said sharply. Then, after a beat, added, "If he can forgive me for not already trying to do so."
"He was shocked and angry tonight," she reasoned. "And frightened. Give him time; he'll come around."
"Time," Severus murmured, laying his head against the back of the couch. "The one thing we do not have."
She watched him for a few minutes, staring pensively up at the ceiling. Words were again inadequate to convey what either of them were feeling, and so she simply settled back against him, leaning into his shoulder, counting on her presence to offer what small measure of comfort she could. He put his arm around her as they sat in silence, and she couldn't help but think how different the mood was to when she had first appeared earlier that night.
Her own guilt at not having realised she was being followed rose up in her, but she clamped down on the urge to apologise now. If Malfoy had been suspicious enough to follow her, he would have found out where she was going sooner or later. Though she could hardly see it at the moment, and she wouldn't dare mention it to Severus, perhaps something good would come of the Slytherin's discovery. At least they knew where he stood, now.
Hermione wasn't sure how long they sat there, each lost in their own thoughts. When the fireplace flared green, though, and the Headmaster appeared, Hermione didn't bother to lift her head from Severus' shoulder, and nor did he remove his arm from around her as he eyed the older man suspiciously.
Professor McGonagall appeared moments after Dumbledore, and took in their closeness with an unreadable expression. Hermione had long suspected the Headmaster shared most things with his Deputy, and his approval of her relationship with Severus was likely one of them. After a moment of silence, McGonagall moved to take one of the armchairs opposite the couch and simply said, "It has been a trying day for all of us, I would imagine."
Hermione nodded at sat up a bit straighter, watching the two teachers curiously.
"Is there something you require, Headmaster?" Snape asked as the older wizard took the remaining seat. "You know you need only ask."
The biting sarcasm was clear in Snape's voice, but as Dumbledore regarded them both, Hermione was struck by how old he looked in the firelight.
"I find I must be doubly asking for your forgiveness tonight, Severus," he said at length, sorrow ringing clear in his voice. "I have made a terrible error of judgement. I was confident Tom would not return a student to us so Marked, and I would not have let Draco go if I had known it would come to this."
"I told you this might happen," Snape said. "I warned you."
"Yes, you did," Dumbledore agreed, "and because I failed to heed your warning, young Mr Malfoy must now pay the price. I ask only for your help in this task he has been assigned."
"Assigned? Albus, you're sending him to his death."
"He is determined to do what he can," the Headmaster said. "I hope Tom will not call him again whilst he is at school, but I just do not know anymore. It has been a harsh reminder that I cannot control everything as I would like."
Hermione saw Snape open his mouth to make a sharp retort, but then close it again. Her heart went out to the aging wizard sitting across from them; she believed he genuinely had not seen this turn of events coming and, after recalling his distress when Severus was close to death after his discovery by Voldemort, she knew it must have shaken the Headmaster to have to resign another young man to the possibility of a similar fate.
"I admit, once I had the means to dictate my will as I saw fit, it hardly crossed my mind what effect that would have on others. I have made many grievous errors in my time, but perhaps none so much as in these past six months. I cannot make amends any more than young Mr Malfoy can be freed from that which now binds him to Tom, but there is something I feel I must do, if only to silence a small part of the conscience that constantly plagues me."
Snape watched unspoken, as the older man leant forwards in his chair, steepling his hands under his chin.
"There is someone whom I have trusted impeccably for many years, yet never have I shown faith in that trust, and in his loyalty to me, always choosing instead to blame obligation for his actions. It is time for me to show the trust I have in you, Severus."
"Albus-"
Hermione glanced at McGonagall in confusion, but her Head of House shook her head, her eyes on the Headmaster as he rose from his chair and moved around the coffee table to stand in front of the other man. Before Severus could protest, Dumbledore reached out and grasped his arm, drawing him up from the couch.
"Albus, what-" he started to ask again, confusion warring with annoyance in his voice.
"Quiet, my boy," Dumbledore said. "I owe you so much more than this, but it is all I can give, for now."
Hermione watched, wide-eyed, as the Headmaster pulled Snape out into the middle of the room and knelt on the floor for the second time that night, gesturing for the other man to join him. Wordlessly, but looking paler than usual, Severus complied, and Dumbledore grasped the pale right hand with his own.
At a glance from the Headmaster, McGonagall rose from her chair and crossed to stand next to the two wizards. When she withdrew her wand and touched their joined hands, three tongues of fire appeared suddenly, illuminating both wizards' faces in a bright orange glow.
"Severus Snape," Dumbledore said, his voice echoing in the stillness of the room, "I release you from the Unbreakable Vow which has bound you to obey my will these long years, with the faith that you will continue to do what is right and honourable."
One tongue of flame uncoiled slowly from the rest, vanishing with a quiet crackle.
"I free you from any obligation to serve the Order of the Phoenix, in the firm belief that you will continue to fight beside us of your own free will."
Another coil of fire disappeared.
"And finally," Dumbledore said softly, "I give you back your life, and wish only that you embrace it as a gift, not a curse, henceforth learning how to truly live."
The final tongue of fire unravelled slowly from around their joined wrists and vanished as McGonagall lowered her wand. Hermione felt something wet on the back of her hand, resting in her lap and she looked down, startled. Her vision blurred as she dropped her eyes, and it was only then she realised that the wetness was her own tears, running silently down her cheeks.
Dumbledore released Snape's hand, and the former Potions master rocked back on his heels, both hands dropping to rest on his knees. His head was bowed, a curtain of lank hair hiding his face from them all.
The Headmaster climbed painfully to his feet for the second time that evening, and then extended a hand to the other man.
"Severus," Dumbledore said, and the he finally looked up, his face strangely blank as he accepted the proffered hand and also rose from the floor. Instead of releasing the hand, though, Dumbledore tightened his grasp.
"You know I cannot extend Mr Malfoy the same trust at this time?"
He nodded, but then said hoarsely, "Albus, I didn't expect you to... I never meant-"
"It's quite all right, my boy," the Headmaster said, finally releasing Severus' hand. "This is something which is long overdue."
Hermione watched as he nodded numbly, stunned and overwhelmed by the Headmaster's actions.
McGonagall stowed her wand up her sleeve and rested her own hand on Severus' shoulder for a moment. Then, spotting Hermione still sitting on the couch, she said, "Come, Miss Granger. I think there has been quite enough excitement for one night, and it is well after curfew."
Hermione stood up, but her gaze drifted to Severus. He met her eyes, his own glittering strangely in the firelight, but shook his head almost imperceptibly. She wanted to do something, say something, before she left, but she, too, was at a loss for words.
She reluctantly followed her Head of House, first to the fireplace, and then to the door to the first floor corridor when McGonagall discovered the lack of Floo powder. Glancing back into the room just before she closed the door behind them, she saw the Headmaster returning to one of the armchairs, while Severus had sunk back onto the couch, his hands clasped behind his bowed head.
To be continued
This
is the first half of a chapter which became rather too long to post
in its entirely all at once. The next chapter, as always, is posted at
OWL, and hopefully I'll be able to post it here over Christmas!
Many, many, many thanks to Potion Mistress, beta extraordinaire, who somehow manages to make sense of my strange phrasing and wrangle it into something resembling coherency.
If anyone is wondering why Severus was able to go to the Headmaster's office whilst still under the Vow not to leave his rooms, I have assumed that a direct invitation from Dumbledore would temporarily override the requirements of the Vow.
Draco's middle name comes from Aulus Vitellius, son of Lucius Vitellius and a short-lived emperor of Rome. I chose Aulus mainly because I liked the name, and his father's name seemed fitting, but I found in interesting upon reading more that Vitellius' lack of military expertise "forced him to rely in critical situations on largely inneffective lieutenants". It reminded me a bit of Draco's association with Crabbe and Goyle in the books, and how incapable they have been of getting anything right in this story (thankfully).
And, lastly, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love hearing what you think!
