Disclaimer: All characters belong to the great JKR. No money, fame or glory being made here.
AN: In which TimeTurnerforSale is still fic-hijacking (AriadneAWS: You did NOT; I'm still swamped!) and AriadneAWS stepped in with the occasional moment.
Reluctant Relations
Hermione could only stand, shocked as the old woman set her hands on her hips and glared disapprovingly at them. The notion that Severus had any living family, or, for that matter, had ever been anything but the man next to her was something that she was not prepared for. Coming out of her thoughts, Hermione realized the old witch was looking her over appraisingly.
"Grandmother, this is Hermione Granger," Severus said, giving her hand a firm squeeze before releasing her and stepping forward.
"Ah, yes..." the old woman said, snatching a gnarled cane from beside the hearth and moving slowly towards them. Each strike of the cane against the floor echoed off of the walls, disturbing the rhythmic sound of the bubbling potion. Her gaze traveled from Hermione to Severus. "Muggle-born, I see, but has her wits about her, this one."
As Hermione wondered how Severus' grandmother could know she was Muggle-born just by looking at her, Severus scowled and attempted to head off the conversation from the direction it was about to take, stating, "I will require a place to stay, and a lab."
The cane tapped the floor again as his grandmother turned from him, walked to a far window and pushed it open. An owl wedged its way through the slim opening and hopped onto a nearby table, ruffling its wings irritably.
"Well," she huffed, "It seems you've already assumed as much, sending the owl along." Her thin fingers scratched the owl's back, examined a few feathers, then paused.
At her questioning expression, Severus nodded with grim sincerity. "Burnt to the ground."
Hermione watched the two of them. Any other family would have consoled each other, showed that they were glad that they were safe. Not here. Severus and his grandmother discussed the burning of the library that must have been in the family for generations as if it were a business deal - devoid of emotion.
With a disappointed shake of her head, the old woman made her way back across the room, angrily pounding her cane on the floor. Stopping in front of Severus, she looked up at him and set her jaw. "The back rooms are empty, the storeroom is full and you may work in the lab Eileen used," she announced, with obvious reluctance. Her eyes slid towards Hermione. "This one too?"
Severus nodded. "She will be assisting me."
Hermione hid her surprise and tried to avoid the old woman's glare by watching the owl swivel its head to preen, apparently affronted, attempting to clear the burnt parchment and singed feathers from its wings and back.
After a moment in which the old woman considered, her critical eye moving from Severus to Hermione several times, she stated, "This concerns the potion, no doubt?"
Severus nodded. "It does," he replied, handing her the book saved from the fire.
Hermione could see now that it was a log book used for potions experiments, similar to the ones used in class. This one, however, seemed to be hundreds of years old, and embossed with a family crest.
Taking the book, the old woman turned and hobbled towards the hearth where a few small threadbare chairs sat, huddled in a semi-circle around a small table. Severus gestured that Hermione should follow, placing his hand on her shoulder and giving her a reassuring nod when she looked at him questioningly.
The old witch set the book on the table, muttered a spell and waited as it opened in response, flipping its pages obediently to a list of ingredients. With a frown, she dragged her nail down the page, pausing and mumbling to herself whenever she found something difficult to obtain, shaking her head at times and glancing up at Severus with a scowl before returning to the list.
Finally, she swept her hand to the side and the book snapped closed.
She turned and placed her hands over the handle of her cane and leveled a serious eye at Severus. He merely raised an eyebrow in question, awaiting her response. A moment of silence passed between them before she nodded as if a decision had been made. With another sweep of her hand, a tea set appeared on the table and a cloak flew from another room to her waiting hand.
Wrapping the cloak around her, she started for the door, stating over her shoulder, "You are in need of a great deal of ingredients."
Hermione swore the woman moved faster once the cloak was around her, stabbing the cane forcefully onto the floor with each stride, the garment moving out in a dramatic current behind her. Without another word, she set off into the night and slammed the door behind her.
Hermione was unconsciously eyeing at Severus' cloak when he startled her by saying, "I believe a discussion is in order."
"Yes, of course," Hermione said, moving to take a seat at the small table. Her chair creaked loudly and shifted, revealing its advanced age. Severus removed his cloak, draped it over his chair and sat across from her.
The owl took silent flight, sweeping to land on the arm of Severus' chair as he leaned forward and handed Hermione her tea. She watched as Severus laid a hand on the owl and muttered a spell; removing the singed and soot-covered feathers and revealing its true mottled gray color. In place of appreciation, the owl appeared insulted - as if Severus had been negligent in not performing his duty sooner. It turned its head and glared at Hermione before taking flight and landing near the front window. With careful steps, it pushed its way through the ragged curtain, shifted itself into the corner of the windowsill, folded its wings determinately - and waited.
The sound of the crackling wood and simmering potion created a soothing rhythm, but the air was full of deep questions. Hermione searched for the right words to begin, wanting to confirm what her heart was telling her. The truth. What had to be.
"Why did you come?"
Hermione blinked at first, but then abandoned propriety and looked him in the eye. "I trusted you."
"And now?"
Hermione set her tea cup down and leaned forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. After a moment, she responded, "You said never to doubt."
Severus turned his cup around in his hands, gripping it with a thumb over the rim. "I did."
"You helped Dumbledore destroy the ring."
A flicker in his eyes told her she was correct. "Yes."
"He was dying. Wasn't he?" she said. "You kept him alive so he could pass his knowledge on to Harry, only you already knew everything, didn't you?"
"Not everything, no. Dumbledore was not so careless as to trust all of his knowledge to one person. Neither is the Dark Lord."
Disappointment crossed her face, softly, a light pattern as changing as the flames that were rising around the cauldron. "So you don't know where the remaining Horcruxes are?"
"No," Severus said with a sigh. "I haven't been part of the inner circle for some time. My only contribution was to brew the potion. And now..."
Hermione looked at him gravely. "Now you are a traitor to both sides."
Severus nodded.
Silence passed while Hermione contemplated. Part of her wondered how it felt to be marked for death, no matter which side found him. The concept of bravery filtered past - how, in its highest form, the quality is never recognized.
Setting her tea down, she turned the cup on its saucer as she thought, listening to the sound of the rough ceramics grinding against each other. Holding her palm over the cup, feeling the heat trapped under her hand, her thoughts settling, then turning back onto themselves.
His voice brought her back, clear and final: "No." Her eyes met his as he said, "He would not have survived that night."
Hermione hung her head, staring at the floor for a time. Knots of wood cracked in the fire and the potion seemed to be bubbling louder, following some mysterious but specific pattern.
"Did he -," she started, then collected her thoughts. "He ordered you to do it then?"
Severus remained silent.
When he didn't respond, she raised her head and found him watching her.
"What do you believe?"
"I believe that there was some reason. Something you discussed beforehand."
Severus stood abruptly and turned towards the hearth.
Hermione watched as Severus leaned over the potion, touching the stirring rod and busying himself for a time - counting.
Just as she thought he wouldn't respond, Severus said clearly, "Albus knew he was dying. I revealed to him early in the school year that the Dark Lord had tasked Draco with something and that I was bound to complete it should he fail."
Shifting in her chair, Hermione could see the tension rise in his back as he tilted his head and raised a ladle full of potion, turned it, and let the contents fall back into the mist. He repeated the motion a second, a third and then a fourth time, his shoulders tightening with each tilt of the ladle.
Hermione remained still, watching his fingers twisting around the ladle's handle as his words descended further into the darkness of despair and regret.
"Neither of us knew at the time that the task was murder. Even so, Albus made me swear that if the time ever came, that I would carry it out and preserve my position as spy... and now..."
The sound of the ladle hitting the stone floor echoed even before Hermione registered its flight across the room. It bounced and skittered over the rough stone, spinning across the floor before coming to rest.
Severus raised his arms and gripped the mantle, his fingers spread, driving into the rough wood. The owl's head appeared from between the curtains, shooting an accusatory glare at Hermione. It ruffled its wings, beating the curtain into motion before slipping back and settling back to its post.
Hermione froze, watching Severus' coat stretch across his back as he lowered his head and stared into the flames, as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders, with no end in sight.
"I have failed."
Her heart seized at the pain in his voice. Not because it was real or even expected - but because it was true.
For a moment, Hermione stood silently, staring at his silhouette against the flames, absorbing the enormity of what he'd just told her. Then, moving carefully, as if a single too-loud footstep would shatter some fragile but vital part of the man before her, she drew even with him at the hearth.
He glanced sideways at her through his falling hair, and she nearly choked at the intensity of self-loathing she saw in his eyes.
"Severus," she said quietly. "You told me to believe in you, no matter what happened, and I have - against all logic, against all reason, against my friends and even my parents, I've had faith in you."
Very carefully reaching out, she placed one hand on his elbow, the wool uncomfortably hot against her skin, she continued, "I still do."
Turning his head slightly, Severus' eyes searched hers, calculating, determining the truth of her intent. Finally, he reached out and took her hand gently, as if she might flee at any moment, or as if he thought she should. "I shouldn't have drawn you into this. It is nothing more than a path to certain destruction," he said, raising his eyes to meet hers.
"I make my own choices, Severus," she said in a hushed voice, venturing to touch his face, "or haven't you noticed?"
The corner of his mouth twitched at the memory of her kiss in the lab. A lifetime ago. Both the beginning and end for them both. Even though his words spoke of regret in involving her, he knew in the depths of his selfish and long-cold heart that he was not sorry.
Drawing her to him slowly, he traced a circle on her back, pressing his palm flat, feeling the friction of her clothing under his hand as he completed the pattern. The heat from the flames made his left side almost unbearably hot while his right was cold. A severe contrast which seemed ironically appropriate.
Hermione rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart. Curling her hand under her chin against him, she wrapped her arm around his waist and simply allowed him to hold her. When he relaxed a slight degree, she smiled gently and moved her hand to touch a button on his coat, turning it a little between her fingers.
His voice almost startled her, rising in a deep rumble within him, "Thank you."
A simple phrase, often spoken. Part of the mundane interaction common to everyday life but, at some times, profound.
Hermione knew that not only was it difficult for Severus to admit that he needed anyone, but that it was also an admission of a partnership. It was as if the very air changed around them, charged with the need to craft a plan, to move forward.
She lifted her head and found him already looking down at her. Making no move to shift away, she raised her hand to his cheek, her thumb tracing his cheekbone slowly, remembering. Her heart constricted at the pained way he closed his eyes, as if he was still reluctant to believe she was there, for him, of her own free will.
Leaning forward, she hovered just shy of his lips, whispering, "I trust you."
He stood, lips parting, but not making any movement towards her. His hand had ended its travels on her back and now tightened so that her shirt was twisted in his fist, shaking slightly.
A decision made, a path chosen, with felled trees blocking any retreat, he closed the gap to touch her lips to his.
A single piercing cry spun around the room, seemingly coming from all directions. The owl had taken flight, flailing the tattered curtains aside and heading straight for Severus' shoulder, just as his lips touched hers.
Instead of a kiss, Hermione felt Severus draw breath sharply between clenched teeth as the owl landed on his shoulder, driving its talons into him and throwing its wings out for balance.
Hermione's wand was out a fraction after Severus' as they stood staring towards the front door. Severus threw his hand out and extinguished the torches, leaving the glowing hearth as the only light. He then directed the owl to fly to the door, sent Hermione a glance directing her towards the opposite side of the room, and slipped into the darkness.
A wavering image was visible through the warped glass, giving the impression that something was swimming underwater. It passed by the window, illuminated by failing moonlight. The distinct shape of a hand against the glass, palm splayed open and pressed flat.
Hermione stood in the dark and watched, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. The hand on the glass remained for a moment, and then its outline became larger, darker, less solid. It was then that Hermione realized she was seeing blood.
The hand disappeared and at the same moment a sound came at the door.
It wasn't a knock, more like a solid mass falling against the door. The wood cracked loudly in protest, offering up a last groan before falling silent.
Finding a combination of instinct and adrenaline driving her, Hermione approached from the right, keeping to the edge of the shadows. She looked across the room to where Severus loomed, his eyes glittering, fixed on the door. His jaw was set, eyes watching with rapt attention, sending her memory flashing to earlier in the abandoned house.
They both flinched when a sliding sound, accompanied with a horrific groan came from the other side.
The door handle slipped to the side then, and, being locked, snapped back upwards with authority.
Hermione was stunned when Severus straightened up, strode towards the door and threw it open.
Her first thought was that, whoever it was, their hair was orange, then the horrible truth struck her.
Falling to the floor in a broken heap was Draco Malfoy, and his head, along with the rest of him, was completely covered in blood.
Severus' eyes swept the alley for any signs that Draco had been followed. Seeing none, and sending the owl back to its position, he dropped to one knee to pick up the injured young wizard.
Draco's head lolled back as Severus stood and kicked the door shut with a booted foot. Nodding to Hermione to follow, he muttered an incantation and a yawning archway appeared in one wall. Hermione hesitated only a moment - the stones in the arch were cracked, and the mortar between them crumbling - then she raced up the darkened stairs of the passage.
Stooping in the low passage, Severus had taken the stairs two at a time and had already deposited Draco's unmoving body on a narrow cot by the time Hermione entered the small garret chamber.
"Ground Hellebore. Quickly," Severus muttered, reaching into his robes for a vial.
After Hermione's quick nod and departure, Severus slipped his hand under Draco's neck, his jaw tightening slightly at the sight of blood pouring from a ragged head wound. Lifting Draco's head gently, Severus tipped the vial's contents into Draco's mouth while murmuring a soft incantation.
Draco's chest rose in jerking fits, each breath a wretched exercise in blinding pain. Broken ribs, Severus thought as he continued his murmuring. Draco moaned, as if suffering some terrible nightmare, repeating the word "No" in an endless stream, then baring his teeth from the pain of each ragged breath.
Severus had managed to open the torn and bloodied shirt part way when Draco's arm shot out and twisted over in his robes with wild desperation.
"Slughorn!" Draco gasped, shaking his hand and attempting to pull Severus closer.
Severus shook his head as he closed his hand over Draco's arm and began to speak, but was cut off by Draco frantically attempting to rise, half-screaming in the process.
"They killed him! The potion! They have Ollivander!" Draco shouted before his throat closed and sent him into a series of coughing fits, between which he turned to retch whatever his last meal had been.
Severus could only hold Draco and keep him from falling completely out of bed. After a second wave of nausea passed, Severus was helping Draco back into bed, trying to keep him calm, when Draco's eyes shot to the doorway, then narrowed.
As if none of them had ever left the corridors of Hogwarts, Draco's lip curled up in derision as he sneered, "Mudblood..."