A/N: In which TimeTurnerforSale fic-hijacked (Ariadne: You did NOT; I was swamped!) and Ariadne stepped in with the occasional moment.
Ancestral Ashes
Hermione gasped and pressed herself back against the wall, her heart contracting painfully. Her hand dropped to her side, her fingers nervously tracing the join of the brick wall.
"Be ready to run."
"Yes."
Severus turned his head, listening.
The rain beat on the cloak, growing louder, angrier, until the wind swept it to a different angle, disappearing.
Just when she was becoming desperate for fresh air, the cloak was ripped aside and she found that they were in a narrow alleyway between two blocks of row homes. Severus grasped her by the wrist and pulled her toward the back, around to a yard that had not known a gardener in decades. Stumbling over shrubbery that had run rampant, he found a back door ajar, pushed it wide open and pulled her inside.
Standing in the kitchen, Severus stared toward the front of the house, distractedly holding her hand in his. It might have resembled an act of affection, but the almost painful grip he had on her hand indicated otherwise. The lamppost outside projected a swaying rectangle of light onto the sitting room floor, illuminating the heavy dust in the air.
Hermione stared up at him, at the cut of his jaw, how he was watching, holding her partially behind him. The twitch in his muscles and how he held his wand told her that he was on a ragged edge. He didn't seem to be breathing.
The sudden screeching began again, cutting through the silence. Instantly, Severus had his cloak thrown over her, pulling her to the floor. They lay in the doorway to the sitting room, holding the cloak up just enough to see.
The shadow of the owl, its wings held straight out, was projected onto the sitting room floor, a tattered rug its background. Its head was thrown back as it called again and again.
Hermione touched Severus' neck in the darkness and almost drew back when she felt his warmth.
"What is wrong with your owl?" she whispered.
Severus curled his arm over her and took a deep breath. "He is trained to call."
"A guard owl? Really."
They heard voices outside, nearly unintelligible against the owl's continued protests. Hermione heard Severus' name mentioned in a cold, vicious voice, and a chorus of agreement.
They both recoiled as green light filled the room, accompanied by violent laughter and curses. Hermione turned her head to see a shadow pass through the light on the floor and soar upwards.
"Find him!" a voice commanded – a voice not only of sound, but a screaming through her mind.
Hermione's throat constricted, and Severus' hand was immediately over hers.
Sounds of Apparition filled the air, followed by a hollow silence.
The sliding of the cloak over her, letting the chill rush in to prick her skin.
Reality.
They both sat up, looking at each other in the dim light, not bothering to attend to the tendrils of cobwebs covering both of them.
"It's you they're looking for," she said fearfully. Literally shaking.
His eyes held a haunted, empty expression. Heavy, knowing too much.
His head angled down.
"What have you done?" she breathed.
"Everything," he said, watching his hand moving through her hair and down to her shoulder, "and nothing."
Hermione shook her head. "You're not answering me."
"There is hardly time to explain fully," Severus said, his eyes alert, passing over the darkened room.
Hermione reached out and put a hand against his chest. "Tell me."
"To address the most pressing issue at the moment, I have been found out. If there is such a thing as a traitor to both sides, than I am fit to wear that title."
Her eyes flicked back and forth as her mind raced. "The potion?"
Severus nodded, and took what seemed to be his first breath since Hermione had appeared in the middle of Spinner's End.
"The Dark Lord was displeased to find that not only had Draco failed in his task, but also that I had nothing other than notes to show for months of work. They captured Slughorn last night and forced him, under the Imperius, to analyze my work. I was warned by Draco that my obvious sabotage of the research was exposed no more than an hour ago. I destroyed everything."
She stared at him, unmoving. How close they had come to it becoming reality.
"I sent the message to you before I knew. I apologize. I had no idea."
Hermione touched his hand, thinking morbidly about the conversation still to come. Looking toward the front window, she asked, "Is it…?"
"Safe now? I don't know."
"Why is this whole area deserted? I mean-"
"Aside from the fact that it is hardly a delightful neighborhood? The water is poisoned."
"How?" she started then received her answer in a simple lift of his eyebrow.
Sighing, she tilted her head and listened with him for a moment. Just as they were about to relax, faint voices could be heard, far away. Growing louder.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire block of houses. A gray shower of dust rained down on them from the upper floor, settling, only to start up again as several lesser explosions rang out from farther down the street. Shrill laughter filtered in amongst the noise of various materials being blown apart.
The rectangle on the sitting room floor began to change from cool blue to warm, flickering orange.
Hermione was shocked to hear Severus groan.
"What is it?"
"That would be my house burning down."
"Lovely," Hermione muttered.
More sounds of Apparition and laughter, another explosion, brightening the orange to a fierce red.
Hermione and Severus sat motionless, listening for a time as silence fell. When the owl reappeared, sweeping up to resume its position, Severus stood slowly and approached the front window, glancing up at the owl who regarded him serenely in return. Severus leaned forward, turning to look down the street, his expression unreadable.
Unable to find words, Hermione could only watch him, the reflection of the flames illuminating his face, casting shadows. His hand had been brushing off his coat, but now slowed to a stop, his palm still against his chest.
When he spoke, it was with a slow reverence, distant, nothing more than a breath. "My library."
Hermione looked down at the floor, covered in a thick layer of dust, disturbed where Severus' cloak had cut a wide path when it had dragged behind him to the window.
Absently, Severus went to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside, leaving a wide rectangle of warm color on the wall, wavering, falling then climbing higher, smaller points of light flying above the edges.
A heavy scent in the air.
Burning books.
Hermione rose from the floor and took slow, careful steps to stand in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat at what she saw.
Severus stood in the middle of the street, seemingly in a daze, staring toward a row house that was fully engulfed in flames. The rain, cruelly, had stopped, allowing sparks to rise in the air, flying on the turbulent wind. A multitude of pages, some alight, swayed and turned over, surrounding Severus as he moved closer. Books were strewn everywhere, charred, torn to pieces, the only occupants of the house, resembling something disturbingly close to dead bodies. Every time the wind picked up, more sparks and flaming bits of paper took flight, showering Severus, catching in his robes, before dying.
Hermione stepped out into the sidewalk, her heart breaking at the sight.
His cloak rippled to the side as he continued to walk closer, coming to a stop dangerously close to the flames, observing in a silent vigil, knowing there was nothing that could be done.
The owl swept past him, its wings spread wide, lifting higher, disappearing over the roof of the house and seemingly into the flames themselves.
Hermione drew closer to him, unable to think of a single thing to say. Losing even one book was a tragedy she didn't want to imagine, let alone a library that must have taken generations to accumulate. Her hand touched his, lightly, offering some sort of gesture, knowing that words now would be a curse rather than a blessing. Reluctance - she could feel it, his wanting to be left alone, to watch, to mourn in peace. Bringing her hand upwards, she touched his palm, then slipped her hand around his, watching his profile, the warmth of the flames around them.
They stood, quietly, the sound of the crackling flames the only sound.
A groaning preceded the house's final collapse, heart-wrenching to watch. The upper floor fell inward, dragging the roof down into the house. Flames drove higher into the night sky as the fire found even more fuel to burn, windows simply shattering out onto the front pavement. When the leaning began, Hermione tightened her grip on his hand, her other coming to join it, grasping his forearm. A loud moaning; slow, holding on until the last moment before gravity took hold and the entire front of the structure disintegrated into a tangled pile.
Hermione slipped her hand up Severus' arm, trying to get him to back out of the way, the burning wreckage surrounding them now, the flames were spreading to the adjacent homes. Far away in the distance, she heard the wail of sirens. The Muggles would be there soon.
He stood his ground, ignoring her, his eyes lifting to the top of the burning mountain of twisted wood.
Hermione froze as the owl rose up over the flames and soared on soft wings to land on Severus' shoulder.
It had saved one book.
Severus stood, staring bleakly at the inferno, his eyes empty, reflecting the flames as the sparks of his home spiraled upward toward the indifferent muted-orange sky. A charred page, carried outwards toward them by the waves of heat emanating from the glowing timbers brushed his cheek.
He didn't blink.
He's in shock, Hermione thought wildly, realizing that he had no more awareness of her than of the owl's talons on his shoulder.
"Your owl..."
No response.
"Um…"
Nothing. She had no idea what she was supposed to call him.
"Erm... Professor?" she whispered.
He turned his head slightly, his lips twisting in a bitter mockery of his former sardonic smirk.
"Your owl - the book - don't you want to know which-" Despite the conflagration before them, the fact that Severus stood bereft at her side, and the dawning realization that they had nowhere to go and very little time to get away, Hermione could not silence the dry, insistently curious part of her mind that was itching to relieve the owl of its burden.
When he spoke, his voice carried with it an echo as if of a tremendous abyss. "I know which book he carries. He is very well trained."
"Of course."
Severus' eyes raked the scene, reflecting the spectrum of flames one last time, before Hermione saw something deaden in his eyes.
Hearing her involuntary breath, he reached for her hand. As the sirens of the Muggle vehicles grew louder on the night air, he turned to her, eyes still empty, he said, simply, "Come."
And Hermione felt her stomach wrench as she was pulled into the compression of Side-Along Apparition.
---------------------------------------------------
His arm was still around her, holding her close as the spinning subsided. It was raining wherever they were, increasing in ferocity, a gusting wind forcing the rain onto them as if angry at their sudden appearance. His cloak, soaked now, was over her again, hanging heavy as they walked. Watching the cobblestones in the sparse light, neatly set, then oddly shaped, deteriorating into random, mismatched pieces laid at strange angles. All black.
Knockturn Alley?
Suddenly the rain, wind and cloak were all swept aside and they were in a deeply recessed doorway. A lone streetlight further along the alley gave a sickly yellow glow, flickering each time the wind surged. Not a soul was in sight, but Hermione knew that if they were where she thought, the inhabitants were never eager to be seen.
Hermione took in the sight of Severus, standing, his head leaning back against the stone archway, the same haunted light in his eyes. His hair hung in strings around his face, some stretching across his forehead. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached up and first touched his face, then trailed her fingers across his chin. When he looked at her, his eyes tracked her movements as she drew her hand up along his cheek and up into his hair, smoothing it back. Her other hand found its way to his chest, pressed over his heart.
"I'm sorry-" she barely whispered, then added, "Severus."
His eyes slipped closed, then open again. An acknowledgment without words. Without invitation or permission, Hermione reached for his hand and pulled him into an embrace.
His body relaxed by degrees into the feel of her, real, warm, Here. His arms came around her, drawing her closer, trapping her hand between them. He rubbed his cheek across her forehead, her long hair slick with rain, catching on his skin, and he exhaled, slowly, into the night. "Hermione," he breathed, running his hands firmly up her back, her neck, into her hair, easing her face up toward his.
Within the deep recesses of his haunted eyes, she saw something rekindle - the awareness, the emotional discipline, the iron restraint that had kept him alive – marked for death by both sides; stalked from within his own mind by what he had done, been forced to do. As he lowered his lips to hers, as her eyes closed and she felt her awareness narrow to the moment and the man in her arms, she knew that within his eyes she had just witnessed another in a long series of battles between determination and despair – the battles on which the hope of their world depended.
He tasted the salt of his own denial on her lips, and after a brief, almost rushed moment in which he revealed and then banked his desire, he reluctantly gentled the kiss and stroked her hair. Even in the shadowed recesses of the doorway, Knockturn Alley was no place to lower one's defenses, and… his hand was lost in her hair, and he sought her eyes, warm brown, open, an eager innocence and a smoky question… No, he thought, schooling himself to remember their surroundings.
"Hermione," he said, his voice rasping, "stay close, under my cloak. We have one more jump to make. A short one, this time."
Still breathless, she nodded. "Where are we going?"
Before she was aware of it, they were on the other side of the door.
An old woman with long stringy hair sat muttering, hunched over a cauldron on the hearth. Backlit by the glow of a meager fire in a large, almost castle-sized fireplace, her features were scarcely visible the dim light of a few taper candles and a pale green glow emanating from a shelf of flasks that ran the length of the long, low-ceilinged room.
Instinctively, Hermione stiffened, and her hand flexed for her wand.
Severus reached for her hand and grasped it firmly, half reassurance, half warning.
Without looking up, the old woman ceased her muttering and sat, stirring, in silence.
Finally, she set the long spoon down on the hearth and straightened up painfully.
Turning toward them, she spoke, her tone appraising. "And what is it that you want?"
Hermione barely had time to register that the woman's tone was somehow familiar before Severus said, "I'd like you to meet my grandmother."