A/N: My eternal gratitude to Anastasia/ttfs for reading this very, very late at night.
Note to readers: If oxygen is needed, a phoenix will fall from the overhead compartment. Please put your own phoenix in place before assisting those traveling with you.
The Best In Us
"We can believe in the impossible because we already have done."
"So, all we have to do is do the impossible, then?" - his tone still held an echo of his laughter.
"Yes." She sounded both serious and undaunted. – Chapter 21
/x/
… Dumbledore's portrait peeked through his eyelashes at his successor. Masking a sigh behind another snore, he closed his eyes again.
/x/
In the kitchen at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Severus' coffee was cold. He sat, still, eyes unfathomable. He reached automatically for the cup, oblivious to its utter lack of warmth.
"There was an attack planned last night. On Minerva," Hermione said, accusingly, appearing in the kitchen. "They were stopped in Hogsmeade."
Severus spurted his coffee over his mug and hand.
"Did you not know?"
Muttering a fast cleaning spell, he did not look at her. "Hermione, you know very well where I was last night, yet you – apparently – wish to blame me?" Damn the woman; she was impossible.
Hermione's eyes were still snapping, but she faltered.
"In my position I am sometimes compromised by the fact that the Dark Lord does not tell me everything. He is, after all, a reasonably capable strategist. I? Appear near Hogwarts? Do endeavor to think."
Tayet flew in and landed on the table, looking calmly at both of them.
In the hallway, Mrs. Black strained to hear.
"Yes, of course, Severus," Hermione snapped. "I shall endeavor to think. Heaven knows it's a strain for me, but for you, I shall certainly endeavor to exceed my usual dunderheaded standards."
She turned on her heels and wheeled out of the kitchen.
Neither one of them remembered that she had Apparated without setting off his phoenix charm.
Tayet, claws clicking on the table, walked up to Severus and poked her beak at his heart. She tilted her head at him inquiringly, hooting a question that was equal parts amusement and concern.
Severus' eyes widened. Bloody ridiculous bird. Ridiculous woman. And what the hell is wrong with my heart? He pulled his shirt aside and looked. Faintly outlined on his pale skin, the white circle of phoenix tears was still present.
Tayet trilled, and flew out of the kitchen after Hermione.
"Who let the purple chicken into my Ancient and Most Noble House?" Mrs. Black cackled. The night she had spent dreaming of her past, of her humanity, was but a fleeting memory; still, some of the acid was gone forever from her tone.
Her sense of humor, however, was likely to remain constant. Severus scowled at her as he stalked past.
"And – ooooh, the bat's in a temper."
He paused. "Are you by any chance related to Peeves, Mrs. Black? Shall I consult the genealogy of which you are so… understandably… proud?" He arched and eyebrow at her as she sat in her frame, speechless, and spun away.
The absence of his cloak did nothing to dispel the illusion that something rippled behind him as he strode away, an elegant figure of feral, restrained power.
"Lucky little Mudblood," Mrs. Black muttered.
He paused in his progress. "I heard that," he intoned, and turned to face her once more.
Undaunted, she met his eye squarely. "You were meant to. Obviously."
His eyes sparkled with black amusement, although some shadow lingered there, untouched. He inclined his head, and went to find Hermione.
Mrs. Black turned to find Phineas Nigellus sitting next to her. He glanced after the departing wizard and shook his head gravely. She frowned.
Hermione wasn't in the library. Severus rested a hand on the banister and looked up through the open stairwell. Not on any of the landings either. Sighing, he Apparated into the bolt-hole.
No Hermione.
He sat on the still-rumpled bed in the curtained alcove. "Tayet?" he thought, not sure that this method of communication would work.
Distantly, he got an impression of aching sadness, which grew as he tracked it silently through the house.
He found Hermione in a deep window-seat in one of the third floor bedrooms. Tayet was perched on her knee, whirring at her as she absently stroked her wings.
Hermione turned her face away as he paused in the doorway, brushing her cheeks with the back of one hand. "Have you made any progress on how to destroy them?" she asked, her voice empty, an echo of itself.
Severus supposed he should have expected that question. He stood in the doorway, uncertain as to whether he should answer the question or address the deeper one of her distress.
Tayet looked at him as if to chide him for standing still.
He crossed the room and leaned on the other side of the window. "Some," he replied evenly.
Hermione stroked the phoenix, wishing that his presence could ease the emptiness she felt. Molly. Minerva. Hagrid. She leaned her head on the window glass. "And?"
He hesitated, then sat in the other end of the window recess. She shifted her feet to make room for him. Tayet rustled, but stayed perched on Hermione's knee. Hermione continued to stroke her wings.
Severus reached a finger out to Tayet, touched her feathers, and then covered Hermione's hand with his own, stopping her movement.
Oh, no. Hermione swallowed and closed her eyes. Severus having to touch her to talk was never a good sign. The glass was cool, smooth against her forehead. This is how my friends are going to die. Ron's mother. My favorite teacher, the one I wanted to be like… "You've figured it out, then."
"Yes. It's rather simple, really," he said quietly.
"Simple," she repeated dully, her voice hollow.
He rubbed his thumb over her hand, on the line where her fingers met the phoenix's wings.
"They need only take them through the Veil, Hermione."
Hermione caught her breath, and the light from the window blurred beneath her eyelashes. "Wh – Why can't they throw them through?"
"Dumbledore tried, Hermione. The Horcruxes have no agency, only soul – only something that possesses intent can pierce its barrier."
"So… oh, gods, his hand."
Severus moved his thumb, gently. "Yes," he said softly.
She lifted her head and looked at him. "But that means they don't have to die at all… oh… but - Oh." She leaned her head back on the windowpane.
"I could delay their deaths, but Hermione, that was Dumbledore's choice. It may not be theirs. And it would be… complicated, given my situation."
Not looking at him, she said, "He stayed, in part, for you, you know."
As soon as she said it, he knew it was true. He held himself very still, knowing, then, how Draco must have felt under his whip.
Hermione was silent for a long time, picturing the Veil, a grey center in a grey room, an innocuous, almost trivial, bit of fabric, silent, almost no substance, moving slightly, always moving, gently, timeless… not watching, not waiting, just… there. Whispering.
Severus' breath whispering on her skin. Severus' hair whispering on her skin. Severus' fingertips whispering on her skin.
Severus' voice whispering in her mind.
Fleeting. Soft. Simple.
"You are in real danger of being seduced."
Her throat tightened.
The question was in the air before she could think to stop it. "And the rest? The animate Horcruxes? Nagini, and… " She couldn't say it aloud. She looked the end of the question at him.
He saw it in her eyes – fear, acceptance, rage, denial, courage. He drew one knee up and wrapped his arm around it. His voice low, careful. "The snake is straightforward. The Dark Lord tends to keep her close. It is unlikely that any but a direct attack will succeed, and unlikely that Hagrid will survive his retribution. He will be… weakened, inevitably, long before he reaches Nagini."
Hermione leaned her head on the window again, seeing Hagrid's eyes crinkle and his beard betray his encouraging smile… "Our Hermione," he had called her. Oh, Hagrid.
"Of all of us, Hagrid is strong enough, resistant enough to get close enough," Severus continued.
"And only Minerva can handle the Transfiguration," Hermione caught his train of thought and continued it. "And only mothers can match the mothers' sacrifices. As Dumbledore was father and grandfather, to all of us; his strength his wisdom… and Ginny… her trust, her innocence… They're requiring the best we have in us."
Finally, unmoving, she spoke. "I'll tell Minerva. Tomorrow. Unless you think - "
"Tomorrow's time enough, Hermione."
She knew tomorrow for the lie it was, but nodded anyway.
Then something in the quality of his silence made her turn her head to look at him.
He was waiting, watching her. And his eyes seemed to whisper something that he could not say, asking her something, asking her to ask.
"And us?"
He had no answer he wanted to give that would not be a lie.
"Potter's father died buying her a chance to run."
"I'm not going to run, Severus," she said quietly.
"No," he agreed, too easily.
She looked at him, startled.
A deep, rasping breath, then - "The equation doesn't balance that way, Hermione. It's not a one-to-one mapping. There's an inversion. One over seven; seven over one. You are not the inverse of Lily."
Mind a swirling mass of white noise, she searched his face, grasping at the fractured shards of order, forcing herself to focus, to race through the memory of the formulas, seeking the edge she needed, the one that would cut her mind, would sever her from hope unless she could do the impossible and fight it, knowing equally that all would be lost if she failed, that they would lose everything in victory.
He waited.
And then she found it. "You. You counterbalance Lily. You have all along."
He nodded, and only years of rigid self-control allowed him to hold her gaze. If she had the courage to face this, he owed her the courage it cost him not to look away.
"I… I balance James," she said slowly.
He nodded. "Yes."
Her eyelids dropped and she seemed to search for something. The best that was in her. Love, then. The kind you'll die for… ? Do I have that in me? She looked at him, waiting, his hands, his face, his eyebrows, his eyes, watching her. Might as well face it, Granger. Finally, she returned his gaze, which had been steady, if guarded, throughout her inspection. He knows it, too – or he will, in a minute. Steady… Her voice strangely clear, a tone from a bell, high in a tower, resonant, a call, a reminder, a comfort, and a challenge. "How. Tell me how."
Had he not been broken, he would have been undone. "Patterns, Hermione. Echoes. Inversions. I've played them out, all the variables, the scenarios, the likely arrangement of the principle actors, the choreography of the dance… For you to… live, long enough, to survive until Nagini dies, you will need to be protected, until... The best person to do that is me."
"How, Severus," a note of steel in her tone, the blade with which she was keeping everything else at bay.
"And then… when it is time…"
An Unbreakable Vow, a Compulsion - only these could have forced his next words from him.
She watched his soul, in all its shattered beauty, fill his eyes.
"When it is time, Hermione, I will kill you."
