Hello, all! I apologize for my extended absence. I've let too many things get in the way of this delicious romance. I fully intend to give all of you a finished product just as soon as I can write it all up. You all have been so loyal and I can't thank you enough! I hope the chapters have remained true to the characters and flow as seamlessly as possible. Happy reading, my friends! I hope you had a lovely Easter and are enjoying lovely spring weather!
Hermione gasped to wakefulness, sitting up in a rush. Confusion struck her. Where was she? Where was Bellatrix hiding? A few seconds ticked by during which Hermione's harsh breathing invaded the womb-like quiet. As she scanned her surroundings, thankful for the pearlescent moonlight dancing languidly in tendrils through her window, Hermione realized she was in her bedroom at the little Ainsley Place and that Bellatrix was dead and would never come for her again.
Taking a slow, calming breath, Hermione got out of bed and crept down the hallway, unwilling to disturb anyone else who might be sleeping. She had only grabbed her wand since she had slept in her regular clothes thinking she would only take a short nap. Harry never woke her to check on Professor Snape and she was both annoyed and grateful for that.
As silently as she could manage, Hermione cast lumos and eased the door to Snape's room open making her way to his bedside. Cautiously she peered at him. The sheen of sweat that had coated his face during the fever was not present and he had a healthier look about him.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione poured some water into his now empty glass so he might have some at hand if he woke thirsty.
"What day is it?"
Hermione started slightly at the sudden sound of his voice. She exhaled slowly before turning to answer him. "The night of June eighth. A Monday."
"I've been recovering for a month?" Snape asked testily. At Hermione's wordless nod he growled angrily to himself then looked back up at her. "Help me sit up." He ordered.
Hermione rushed forward and slid an arm under his back as he placed an arm across her shoulders. She helped him up into a sitting position, but Snape kept moving. "You aren't strong enough to get up yet, sir!" She said in alarm.
Snape shook his head. "I only mean to sit at the edge. I've had my fill of this bed for the moment."
Relenting, Hermione helped him turn so that his feet were hanging off the edge. Once nearly completely upright he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked, worrying her lower lip.
"I'm fine!" He snapped. Gradually the tension in his shoulders eased and he sighed, knowing he had upset the young woman who had worked so hard to nurse him back to health. "I was ill from sitting up so abruptly but I'm better now." He explained apologetically, though he couldn't quite bring himself to actually apologize.
Accepting this and understanding Snape's need to cling on to whatever pride he could, Hermione simply passed the glass of water on his night stand to him, which he began to drink slowly.
"When will I be able to leave this house?" Snape asked, trying to lead the conversation toward the clearing of his name without giving away that he had overheard the trio's conversation.
Hermione hesitated, worried he would disappear and that they would never see him again. She wondered idly why this prospect would bother her so much. "I've been researching. It'll take about two months for you to get back your strength." She explained. "Tomorrow Ron is going to set up a meeting with Minister Shaklebolt for Harry to see about clearing your name."
"So Potter thinks everyone will just take his word for it?" Snape jeered.
"I think, considering he did kill Voldemort, they'd agree with anything Harry says." Hermione replied defensively.
Snape scoffed. "Your naïveté astounds me, Miss Granger. Of course they'll say they agree to your faces, but what people say in public and do in secret are very different things. I don't think anyone is likely to let me be just because Potter vouches for me. Dumbledore vouched for me and look at what happened. That is what people will really believe. And I assure you, they will act on those thoughts. They may even think they're doing Potter a favor by keeping him out of harm's way."
Hermione blushed. She had been naïve. The thought of someone taking "revenge" for Dumbledore and scores of people quietly thankful for the act gave Hermione a shiver of dread. She could envision it all too clearly. And Professor Snape really would be gone. "Do you have a better idea?" Hermione challenged, still stung that he had called her out on poor planning.
"As a matter of fact I do." Snape fired back readily. "To ease the inevitable hostility towards myself, I will need to become an auror. I have knowledge the Ministry will find useful. If I have some purpose to carry out for them, they will find me more palatable."
Hermione's eyes widened. "No, Professor, you can't! You've already done so much and you've only just nearly died!"
Snape was surprised by her adamant dissent. "Have you had the same argument with Potter and Weasley?" He asked, assuming she had and failed to sway them, but he did not expect yet another blush from her. She looked away, confused. "You haven't?" He asked in surprise. She shook her head, the stray tresses from her bun echoing the sentiment. "Why this concern for me?" He asked suspiciously. "Potter was practically reborn. I'm sure Weasley has nearly gotten himself killed numerous times."
Hermione couldn't answer for some time. She felt the conversation had gotten dangerously close to something inappropriate. Was this a student's concern for her professor? But he wasn't her professor any longer, and he had done so much to prove his worth anonymously for Dumbledore. Finally she latched onto a reason she could understand. Something she could give voice to. "You shouldn't have to prove your innocence when you've done nothing wrong." She whispered.
Snape didn't know whether to laugh at her or to scold her. He decided on the latter. "Through all of this you have yet to learn how cruel the world can be. Nothing ever changes, Miss Granger, especially for those who are unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle."
. . .
Pansy was drying her baby brother with a fluffy yellow towel. She had just given him a bath since the heat that was already forming this Tuesday morning had been making them both rather irritable.
While the cool splashing had afforded them a temporary peace, Pansy was soon tense again. She was glad Bud couldn't hear her parents talking in the adjoining dinning room as she dressed him in the kitchen.
"The Malfoys will do whatever we ask, but we need to be certain real players will join our game under your leadership." Her mother was saying. "We need strong names like Lestrange and Macnair. My father is a good start, but we must expand past the mediocre. Crabbe? Goyle?" She laughed coldly. "Jokes."
"All in good time, my dear. We, the Parkinsons, have the strength to carry on the Dark Lord's cause. He had presence and power- and vision, oh yes. But we… the affluent, the connected, the established- have a firmness to us that the Dark Lord lacked. We are here, not some ethereal presence that dictates like a god. That is why the messianic figure must die for the cause to go on. We are his disciples. Innocent as doves yet cunning as snakes. It is our burden to carry on the gospel of the Dark Lord! To cleanse the wizarding world with Pure Blood!" Xyllius spoke in an impassioned hiss.
The hair on Pansy's nape stood on end as she clutched her brother to herself protectively. What was her father thinking? What was he planning to do with their family? He must know of the danger he would be putting them in. And innocent little Bud. With a furrowed brow she retrieved Bedlam's baby food and tried to feed him the rest. He had been picky earlier but she hoped the cool water had improved his appetite. Bud did eat and gurgled happily, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the next room. Pansy, however, didn't have that luxury as she heard her parents continue.
"Inspiring!" Her mother enthused. "You are right. I was being impatient. With such a noble cause we will not be short of followers. They will want to carry on the Dark Lord's vision for wizard kind. It is not easily forgotten and many will want to redeem themselves."
"And we have such potential in our youth; a whole generation the Dark Lord had difficulty reaching because of his other-worldliness. We can bridge that gap." Pansy heard her parents get up and start to enter the kitchen. She worked to compose her features so they would not see her fear and disgust. Xyllius opened the door to let his wife flow in first and artfully came before her to stride purposely toward Pansy whose cheek he caressed possessively rather than fondly. "Our daughter shall be fore face of the future. Remember, Pansy, in the days ahead you will be an example of what it means to be pure blood."
. . .
Ron walked to the lift directly across from Shacklebolt's office, a few interdepartmental memos flew in with him and he began his gradual and roundabout decent to the ground floor which housed the many floo grates. He was going first to the Burrow and from there apparate to Harry's He was excited to report his conversation with Shacklebolt. Except for that bit about Snape. The temporary Minister wasn't too happy about that.
"This is asking too much. Even for Mister Potter. And we owe him a great deal." Kingsley said initially, pacing his office. Finally he stopped and rubbed his forehead, sighing. "I shall think on it. Please tell Mister Potter I am eager to meet with him. We can talk about Snape when I've seen Harry safe and well."
Ron filled his mother and father in on what he had talked to Minister Shacklebolt about. They were thrilled he seemed more than willing to let Harry and ron join as aurors, but they were horrified to learn of Snape's survival. "That traitorous snake lives?" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. It was most begrudgingly that Ron admitted that Hermione had been the one to save him and Harry was vouching for his innocence based on memory evidence Snape had revealed while he thought he was dying.
"Well, well…." Mrs. Weasley deliberated. "If Harry says Snape is innocent we should trust his word. He was more suspicious of Snape than any of us. But I hope I don't ever see the man myself." Ron resented this easy acceptance of Harry's defense of Snape. He wondered angrily if his mother would have believed him as she believed Harry.
"Well, I had better go visit Harry and Hermione." Ron said abruptly.
"Speaking of Hermione, " Mrs. Weasley said. "Have you two lovebirds settled things? If you're dating you should invite her over for dinner!"
For some reason that Ron couldn't quite put his finger on, this angered him further. "We'll see. I'll be back later." He mumbled and slammed the door in a huff as he went outside to apparate.
Instead of walking the little clearing outside of Ainsley Place, Ron found himself looking at the door of The Three Broomsticks. He wasn't sure why he thought to come here, but now that he was, a Butterbeer sounded like just the thing to lift his spirits- or perhaps a Firewhiskey…
As he opened the door, a shocked silence made the air seem heavy. Ron hesitated. There would be people after him since he was Harry's close friend. Perhaps he should have thought before coming. Deciding that he needed to go in since he had just opened the door, he took a few wary steps into the building. He could feel all eyes on him.
"Ron Weasley? Is that you?" Madam Rosmerta came out from behind the counter to approach Ron. "Merlin's beard, we've not heard from you or your friends since- oh, since…" She stopped as tears welled up in her eyes and she hugged him close. Before he could process what was going on, she released him, but not before planting a firm, wet kiss on his cheek. Rosmerta turned to the mass of patrons and raised a large mug she'd been holding in the air. "A toast to one of the great heroes of this wizarding age! Cheers!"
"Cheers!" The patrons echoed back enthusiastically.
Ron felt heat suffuse his cheeks as Madam Rosmerta escorted him to a seat at the bar. "What is it you'd like, deary? It's all on the house today. You want a room for the night? Just say the word."
"Just a Butterbeer." Ron requested, embarrassed.
"You've got it." Rosmerta said and flounced off.
Before long Ron had a Butterbeer, a bowl of hot, hearty stew, a fresh loaf of bread, and a sweet and tangy apple tart. Ron began to object but Rosmerta winked and went to refill a glass before he could say anything.
Ron had just tucked into his unexpected meal when someone plunked down beside him with a sigh. "Your usual?" Rosmerta asked the new patron in a sympathetic tone. "Three." Came the reply. "Three?!" Rosmerta exclaimed. "Watered down or-"
The new patron, a girl, cut her off. "Three. Straight. Line them up. I'm not in the mood." Rosmerta went to fill the order, her eyebrow raised disapprovingly.
Ron snuck a glance at the new girl. To his surprise it was, "Pansy?" He gasped. She had sounded familiar, but why was she here being so sour with Madam Rosmerta?
"What, I can't visit old school haunts because I'm a Slytherin?" Pansy snarled.
Ron shut his gaping mouth. "No, I just didn't expect to see you."
"Well you have." She said grouchily.
An awkward silence commenced and Ron was thankful for the casual chit chat taking place around them that helped fill in the sudden lull.
"There you are." Madam Rosmerta said primly. "Three double shots of Firewhiskey."
Pansy didn't say a word as Rosmerta went to the other side of the bar. Clenching her jaw, she took a breath, then gulped down each drink in rapid succession.
"Bloody hell, Pansy!" Ron exclaimed.
Pansy scoffed. "Why don't you mind your own damn business, Weasley?"
Ron's hands curled into fists. "Sure, I'll do that. Bet you have plenty to be depressed about anyway since your precious Dark Lord kicked the bucket."
This struck a nerve. "Listen." She hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about so you should just shut up and eat before I jinx you with something so bad you'll wish you were puking slugs."
"Alright, calm down you lunatic." Ron grumbled, turning back to his food which had lost its luster after the thought of slugs.
Some time passed and, as Ron finished his Butterbeer, he thought he may as well leave. Just as he had made up his mind to go, Pansy spoke up. "I'm not mad at you, really. I'm mad at my parents."
Ron wondered where this had come from but he figured it wouldn't hurt to talk with her some. She was upset about something and in her inebriated state she might spill something about Death Eaters. Besides, he could relate. He'd come here because he was angry with his parents as well. "Why? What did they do?" He probed.
Pansy eyed him speculatively. "It's not what they did." She admitted at last. "It's what they didn't do. What they didn't do was check on me after the battle at Hogwarts. They let me rot in that dungeon until I was sent home with the rest of the Slytherins. They didn't even ask how I was when I got home. I've finally realized my parents don't care about me at all."
Though she stopped suddenly like she had wanted to say more and it seemed to Ron she was taking great pains to hold back, he was shocked by this sudden, honest confession. He had always disliked Pansy and she had always seemed so cold- more like a snake than a person. Yet here she was, getting drunk as the alcohol hit her bloodstream and revealing her less-than-perfect home life.
"I'm sorry." Ron said in genuine empathy. "Pansy, maybe you should have Madam Rosmerta take you home or get you a room."
"I'm fine. I'm not worth bothering with, Ronald Weasley. Shouldn't've said anything." She murmured, her words beginning to slur.
Ron looked Pansy over. She was on her way to being completely sloshed. What was she thinking? An idea struck him, then. He moved away from Pansy so she wouldn't hear and called Madam Rosmerta over. "Does that offer for a room still stand?" Ron asked.
"Of course! Anything, dear." She smiled.
Ron blushed. "Well, would you book a room then, but give it to Pansy?"
Madam Rosmerta looked surprised, then suspicious. "You don't mean to visit her in there or-"
Ron interrupted her, horrified. "No! I'd never do that, no! Just… make sure she's safe and has a place to rest."
Rosmerta smiled sadly. "You're quite the gentleman, Mister Weasley. I'll take good care of her."
Ron nodded, uncomfortable with the praise. Looking back at Pansy who had laid her head on the counter, he saw that Madam Rosmerta was rousing her to take her to a room. Satisfied that Pansy was in good hands, Ron stepped out of The Three Broomsticks and, with a heavy sigh, apparated once more to tell Harry how his meeting with Shacklebolt went, though his mind still lingered on Pansy.
. . .
"Are you hungry, Ron? We have dinner cooking." Hermione said as Ron settled down at the table.
Ron shook his head distractedly. "Nah, I already ate."
Hermione smiled. "Your mom always makes the best meals."
Hesitant to correct her Ron simply agreed and changed the subject. "Shacklebolt's more than happy for us to be aurors, Harry. He wants to go over all the details with you at your meeting. He's expecting you tomorrow at three."
"Brilliant!" Harry enthused. "I can't wait to get out of this house."
"What did the Minister say about clearing Professor Snape's name?" Hermione asked, taking the meat pie Kreature had taken out of the oven to put on the counter to cool.
Ron felt slightly smug about revealing this, though he knew it would end up being something he'd need to help overcome as well. "He said that he doesn't see how it could work. Shacklebolt regrets it but he thinks it's asking too much, even for you, Harry."
There was a disappointed silence. "But the wizarding world owes Harry their lives!" Hermione protested. "But clearing one man's name is too much to ask?"
"You don't really think any Minister for Magic would do anything they couldn't gain from, do you? If anything Shacklebolt would lose popularity if he were to defend Snape." Ron pointed out logically.
Harry looked discouraged. "I suppose we got carried away with the fact that we know Shacklebolt. Of course he couldn't do anything that would make people lose trust in him. And he needs to stay the Minister for Magic. It's best for everyone to have stability after a war like we just had."
Hermione thought on Snape's desire to be an auror. But he was in his room- she could pretend it hadn't occurred to her that this was the ideal time to bring it up. There had to be a way to change Shacklebolt's mind. He shouldn't have to go on serving people at the expense of his life.
"If we offered him a deal he could clear my name without losing approval from the public." Snape staggered to the kitchen entrance and leaned heavily on the door jamb. "I could serve as an auror in exchange for the clearing of my name. I know many Death Eater safe houses and identities. I have information they need and can get nowhere else…" A jolt of pain wracked him and he fought back a groan as he slid to the floor.
Hermione rushed forward to prop him up as he recovered. "Why didn't you tell them, foolish girl? I told you what I meant to do." Snape scolded her.
"I don't… It's not right. We can find another way. You shouldn't have to risk your life." Hermione protested, embarrassed they were talking about this in front of Harry and Ron. They wouldn't understand her reasons for wanting him to stay out of such a dangerous profession while she encouraged her friends to do so themselves. What were those reasons again? She couldn't remember but she was certain they were legitimate and strictly professional in nature.
Ron's heart gave a sharp lurch of jealousy. Hermione had never objected to him becoming an auror. Did she care? Looking at the surprise on Harry's face dealt him another blow. He wasn't the only one noticing the obvious protectiveness Hermione was showing Snape. "It's probably the only way Shacklebolt will agree… if we're lucky." Ron said heartlessly even as Snape sat, crumpled in the floor. "It'll look more like an opportunity taken by the Minister than a show of vulnerability."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue but Harry spoke up before she could utter a word. "I agree with Snape. This would give Kingsley a reason to clear his name. It's the best option we've got."
Turning her head so they couldn't see her sadness, Hermione took Snape's arm and slid it over her shoulders so she could get him to his feet. "Let's get you back to bed, Professor."
Noticing the envious glint in Ron's eyes as Hermione led him off, Snape didn't correct her use of his old title. Instead he murmured a gruff "Thank you, Miss Granger" next to her ear that caused her to blush prettily. Snape made a mental note that he shouldn't let his dislike of the Weasley boy cause him to do anything too rash, though that angry expression was more amusement than he'd had in weeks.
"Greasy git." Ron spat once Snape was gone. "Harry, would you go help him so I can talk to Hermione… alone."
Harry wasn't sure this was the best time. Ron wasn't the wisest when he was angry, but this was between him and Hermione. Harry stood and went to take over for Hermione.
"You shouldn't have done that. You could have hurt yourself." Hermione was saying.
Snape scoffed. "I wouldn't have needed to if you'd honored my wishes."
"I couldn't just-" Hermione began.
"Hermione." Harry broke in. "I'll take it from here. Why don't you go have some dinner?"
Hermione looked startled, then forced a smile. "Sure. Thanks, Harry." As she walked by him, Harry put a hand on her shoulder and said quietly, "Ron wants to talk to you. Take your time. I'll take care of him."
Hermione nodded and went into the kitchen nervously. Why did Ron want to speak with her? And since when did the idea of talking with Ron make her feel this sense of dread? "Tea?" She inquired as casually as she could manage while she cut herself a slice of meat pie.
"No thanks." Ron said, bitterness tingeing his reply. A tension as dense as the meat pie settled over them. Kreature looked at each of them sourly, took up his own food from the table and muttered on his way out, "Kreature only wants a peaceful meal, not indigestion from a lover's quarrel."
Hermione took her food to the table and poured herself some tea, sweetening it lightly. She didn't touch the food yet. Her stomach was in knots, rather she sipped the soothing Chamomile which she wished would do its job better.
"Rather cozy with our old professor now, aren't we?" Ron said suddenly. There was accusation and insinuation in his tone.
Hermione blushed, looking self-consciously in the direction of Snape's room. She didn't want him or Harry hearing this. It was bad enough Ron was even bringing it up. "It's not like that!" Hermione insisted.
"Oh really?" Ron pressed. "Then what is it like? You're really concerned about him being an auror, Hermione. You've never told me about any reservations you've had about me risking my life."
"He's weak, Ron. He can't even stand for more than a few seconds." Hermione argued.
Ron snorted. "You know he'd be doing work as an auror after he recovers."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "It's just not fair for anyone to ask more of him. He's risked his life long enough."
"And Harry and I haven't? You've been risking your life with us the whole time. So what is it? What's the real reason, Hermione?" Ron demanded.
Hermione was thrown. Those were her excuses. That's all she had, but they weren't legitimate, and the only conclusion was that she had to feel something for her old professor that wasn't professional at all. But she shook her head. It couldn't be. She had some good reason, but Ron confronting her like this just made her forget, that's all. "It's not like that." She reasserted firmly.
Ron growled in frustration. "And besides that, all you've talked about for weeks now has been Snape's health and your poor, memory-erased parents."
Hermione started at him as though he'd slapped her. Of course that's all she'd talked about! She had people to help! "And what should I be talking about, Ronald?" She asked in a cold, quiet tone.
Ron didn't balk. He felt she needed to hear this. Maybe then she would stop moping about. "You haven't talked about classes, what you want to do after you finish at Hogwarts, and we've not talked about… us… in a long time, 'Mione."
"Maybe I care more about my parents than any of that!" Hermione yelled. "Maybe if you cared about me at all you'd be worried about them, too!"
Ron was stunned. "Is that what you think?"
"Yes." Hermione said in a shaky, yet serious voice.
"Then maybe," He said slowly. "it's a good thing we didn't ever… I don't think anything will come of us."
Hermione was trembling all over. She'd felt this would happen for a while now. She knew in her mind it was inevitable. It was only just now that the truth came flooding into her heart. Ron was not right for her to her anguish and, shamefully, to her relief. She stood suddenly as tears threatened to fall. "If that's all, I'm going back to help Severus." Without waiting to see if that was all Ron wished to talk about, she stomped out of the kitchen, leaving her food forgotten on the table.
Harry looked surprised to see her coming back. "Hermione, are you-"
"I'm fine. I think Ron's leaving. You should see him out." She said briskly, fighting back tears. Harry did as she suggested, but not before putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. That kind touch nearly undid her, but she pushed through the fresh urge to cry.
Snape sagely kept his own counsel as Hermione approached his bedside. She habitually felt his forehead for fever and checked his pulse. She poured him a fresh glass of water and took up the book she'd been reading him, The Science Behind Potions: Muggle Meets Magic, and turned as if to leave. Snape caught the wrist of the hand that clasped the book and her skin warmed under his touch as she looked at him, surprised, unshed tears still glistening in her axinite eyes.
"Why don't I read to you for once since I'm able." Snape suggested. "I was your potions professor after all. This has some relation to that subject." He was glad to have added that last part- he was just a teacher concerned for one of his past students. Nothing more. The swift pulse under his fingertips was due to her fight with the Weasley boy and didn't give him a little thrill in response. He might have a light fever after all. He'd be sure to bring it to her attention, after he read a few pages…
As Hermione settled in the chair at his side, he quickly located the page and place they were on. Neither talked about their shared memories of Hermione reading to him. "Medicines are a muggle's only defense against ill effects on the body." Severus began in his deep, melancholic voice that soothed like a sorrowful lullaby. "They cure in much the same way as a potion, though in a less efficient way. For example, melatonin is a natural chemical in the human body that has been isolated and made into a pill for easy consumption to help muggles sleep. It does work for many, but not all, and it does not have all of the benefits that drought for dreamless sleep does. Not even more potent sleeping medications have the benefits of the potion and are much more risky in terms of addiction and side effects. This is due to the difference of understanding of ingredients as well as the ability of a witch or wizard to imbue objects with their will…"
He read on and Hermione listened, the words calming her. She didn't even notice as Harry led Ron to the front door. Ron saw their comfortable arrangement and his anger smoldered. She had called him Severus. She probably hadn't even noticed she'd done it. He had been too busy with the Order. If he hadn't allowed them to get this close- but Snape would hurt her before anything could really develop. She'd realize how silly she was being and come right back to him. He was sure that was how it would be. Hermione had always come back to him, even after the likes of Viktor Krum. This greasy git would be nothing more than a minor infatuation.
. . .
The next day was less tumultuous than it had been for weeks. Ron and Hermione were cold to each other, but things seemed resolved and Ron didn't harass her about Snape. Harry and Hermione left for the Ministry deciding to take the Telephone Box that Mr. Weasley had shown Harry once before since it was a more discreet location. Once they entered the Ministry someone noticed their presence almost immediately. "It's Harry Potter!" A man yelled. A great cheer rang out and the two had to make their way through many pats on the back and handshakes. After they got off the lift they met with a similar reaction on a smaller scale by those who worked in offices around the Minister for Magic. Before they had the chance to approach his door, Kingsley Shacklebolt opened his door and greeted them jovially. "Mister Potter and Miss Granger! At last! It's so good to see you well."
"Thank you, sir!" Hermione said respectfully with a smile.
Shacklebolt ushered them inside and locked the door behind them. "So, what's this I hear about you and Ron wanting to be aurors? Speaking of which, where is he?"
. . .
Ron cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at Snape who was sitting up in bed and eyeing him over his book. "Why don't you go make some tea?" Snape suggested acidly.
Ron stood up eagerly from his seat. "Yes, yes, why don't I make some tea…"
. . .
"He's keeping an eye on our place while we're gone to make sure no one comes in to wait for us while we're away." Harry said, avoiding the revelation of Snape's location cleverly.
"You three always have a plan, don't you?" Minister Shacklebolt praised. "That's why, of course, we'd welcome you as aurors with a recommendation from the current headmistress of Hogwarts. I'm sure she'd be more than willing."
Harry grinned ear to ear. "Thank you very much, Minister!"
Shacklebolt waved away the thanks as though it was the least he could do. "It's nothing. You've certainly proved your abilities. Here is your paperwork and, since you both are so young, I think a three month internship program would help you learn what we expect of you here at the Ministry and show you how seasoned aurors handle different situations according to our protocol. Is that acceptable?"
"More than acceptable." Harry laughed. "I can't wait to start."
"If you have your paperwork in by the end of this week you and Ron can begin next Monday."
"Perfect!" Harry enthused.
"And you, Miss Granger," Shacklebolt addressed Hermione. "Are there any internships you would be interested in? You can have your pick."
Hermione was momentarily speechless. "I thank you, sir, but I am planning on finishing my classes with Hogwarts through correspondence as well as working on a few independent studies."
Shacklebolt looked mildly disappointed but shook it off quickly. "If you ever change your mind the offer stands." He said amiably.
"Thank you." Hermione replied gratefully. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Now," Shacklebolt said soberly. "Do you mind explaining to me how Snape thinks he can have his name cleared?"
Harry's jaw clenched. "I am asking for his name to be cleared." He said firmly.
Shacklebolt narrowed his eyes. "We all owe you much, Mister Potter, but this is too much you expect of me. I don't say this lightly, but I don't see how it can even be accomplished as things stand. And why are you vouching for Snape?"
Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts and Hermione forced herself to stay silent. They needed to seem united in the case of Snape. Her time to object to his being an auror had come and gone. Now they had to stand firmly on the same cause. Finally Harry had decided how best to say this. "Snape has revealed through memories, while on the brink of death, that he has worked only on Dumbledore's orders. Without Snape we could not have won against Voldemort."
Kingsley looked unconvinced. "Does he have you under and imperious curse? What about Dumbledore's murder?"
Harry looked him directly in the eye. "I am of sound mind. Do you remember how Dumbledore's hand was withered?"
Kingsley hesitated. "Yes."
"That was the result of very dark magic. Voldemort had created what are called horcruxes-"
"Merlin's beard!" Shacklebolt cut Harry off in shock.
Harry was surprised. "You know of them?"
Shacklebolt nodded. "We had a problem once with a witch who had made one with the murder of her child. She wanted to take revenge on several of her acquaintances and wanted to ensure her own survival by splitting her soul."
"Voldemort created seven." Harry stated.
"Seven?" Shacklebolt looked full of horror and disgust. "He was truly evil- if anyone had ever doubted before…"
Harry paused to allow that truth to sink in before he continued. "The reason Dumbledore's hand had withered was because he had found a horcrux and in his attempt to destroy it, the horcrux, in turn, was slowly destroying him. In order to ensure Voldemort would trust Snape completely so he could continue to help me as I hunted horcruxes myself, Dumbledore gave Snape orders to kill him."
Shacklebolt sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered all Harry had told him. Harry and Hermione held their breath as he deliberated.
"Let's say I believe you," He said at last. "Not everyone will believe it and it could damage my chances to become the official Minister for Magic."
"Ron pointed this out to us yesterday. We asked Snape his thoughts and, while we feel he has already done more than enough to serve the wizarding world, Snape has offered to work as an auror as well to help lead the Ministry to Death Eater safe houses and reveal the identities of unknown Death Eaters in exchange for the clearing of his name." Harry explained.
Kingsley nodded. "This is acceptable. We need to round up these Death Eaters before they have a chance to regroup. I'll send paperwork for him with you as well since you know where to find him. When can he start?"
Hermione spoke up then. "Unfortunately his estimates are that he won't be perfectly healed for two months yet."
"Hmm…." Kingsley mused. "Give him three months. By that time Harry and Ron will be done with their training. I'll assign the three of you to the same squad. Since you two will be the only ones convinced of his innocence it's vital you all work together."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and Harry looked satisfied with the arrangement as well. "That makes sense." Harry assented.
"Then it's all settled!" Shacklebolt smiled. "I'm sorry to end our visit here but I have much to do today. Please, use my emergency floo grate. The room is sound-proof so no one will hear where it is you're going."
Harry and Hermione bid their farewells and squeezed into the dark emergency floo grate. Hermione cast lumos while Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder. Soon both of them were back at Ainsley Place where Ron and Kreature were having tea in the kitchen and Snape was sipping his own cup in his room. Harry went to update Ron while Hermione spoke with Snape.
Severus seemed unsurprised, though he wasn't happy about one prospect. "I'm to work with the Weasley boy? I'm sure he'll enjoy that nearly as much as I will."
Hermione didn't comment. She had had enough of their little jabs at each other. "Today Harry will start helping you with your physical therapy. I know how you've hated being stuck in that bed." Hermione changed the subject.
Now Snape held his tongue. True he wanted out of this bed and to be capable of doing things himself again, but he hated the idea of Potter doing it. The boy was already in charge of tending to the more personal needs Snape had- he didn't know how much more indignity he could stand from young Mister Potter.
. . .
"Protego totalum-" Hermione paused in her enchantments. She was almost done recasting all the protective charms around Ainsley Place when she thought she'd heard a raised voice. After hearing no further sound, she continued. "Salvio hexia. Muffliato-"
There was what sounded like a shout again. It was coming from the back yard. Quickly, she finished her work. "Repello inimicum. Cave inimicum." The barrier around Ainsley place was sealed and Hermione ran as fast as she could to the back, her wand drawn, a hex ready on her lips. She rounded the corner, aimed her wand and-
"I told you to stay with me!" Harry scolded Snape angrily.
"I'm fine, Potter. I don't even need your help anymore. Why don't you just go inside and have lunch?" Snape growled stubbornly.
Hermione huffed. "I nearly stupefied you both! What on earth is going on? I could hear you all the way across the lawn. A muffling charm wouldn't mask your noise!"
Harry trudged over to Hermione. "I can't deal with him right now. He's hurt himself again."
"I'll take care of it." Hermione sighed. Harry headed in the house, still fuming.
Hermione approached Snape with a mixture of exasperation and indulgent humor. It was July eighteenth, almost a month after they'd first met with Shacklebolt and Harry and Ron were well on their way to becoming aurors. Harry had been handling Snape's physical therapy sessions, but more often than not they ended with both each frustrated with the other. This was the third time Snape had hurt himself.
"You've pulled your hamstring." Hermione informed him after inspecting the leg he indicated was hurting. "I'll help you inside."
When Snape was settled back in his bed, Hermione rolled up his pants leg to apply a salve and bandage to the area to help soothe and brace it. "You two are ridiculous." She admonished him, but she couldn't quite keep laughter out of her voice.
Snape glowered at her. "If he were not so bloody condescending! I know how to walk. I did it just fine my whole life before this."
Hermione coughed to disguise her giggle. "Maybe if you spent more time concentrating on rebuilding your muscles rather than proving Harry wrong you wouldn't keep getting hurt and prolonging your recovery." She teased.
"Perhaps you should act as referee then." Snape suggested half-jokingly.
"Perhaps." Hermione echoed to humor him, then she thought on it. Progress was slow between Harry and Snape. And they'd soon be working together. They needed a better relationship than they had now. Ron certainly wasn't going to be a friendly co-worker. "Would you mind if I took over your physical therapy?"
Snape resisted the urge to agree immediately. "I wouldn't be opposed." He hedged.
Hermione pushed down her glee. "I'll see if Harry minds."
"I'm certain he'll be glad to be rid of me." Snape assured her.
Harry had been all too eager to be done with the sessions. He didn't want to be angry with them man. After Snape recovered from his latest muscle injury, Hermione took over his sessions.
"You're doing very well with your stretches." She praised him easily. She never really got used to seeing Snape in casual, muggle athletic pants and shirt. Both were black as he preferred but it still seemed odd to her. "Let's bend a little further forward, professor, I think you can handle it." To assist him in the stretch to touch his toes in a sitting position, Hermione pressed down on the expanse of his back with both hands. She spread her fingers out- to better distribute pressure, not to feel more of him under her palms. Though his back was firm and lithe. She let up the pressure and sat beside him. "Lay back." She instructed.
A light blush tinged Snape's high cheek before he did so, and she assumed the same position. "Now keep one leg straight, toes up, and bring your other leg up to pull your knee to your chest as close as you can." They continued in this way until Snape was prepped to walk, his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Think about your stretches while you do this." Hermione advised. "Pay attention to which muscles need more strength in them so we can do more reps for those areas."
That was easier said than done. Snape found himself quite distracted by the feel of Hermione's slight shoulders under his arm and the heady scent of honeysuckle in the rain emanating from her sun-warmed skin. Maybe he was safer doing these sessions with Potter, though he couldn't quite bring himself to regret this.
"Miss Granger." He said after they had made several turns. Hermione rotated her head to look up at him and found their faces to be mere inches apart. "Yes, professor?" She asked breathlessly. The exertion must be making her short of breath, she reasoned to herself.
Snape looked down at her tantalizing lips that were parted ever so slightly. He nearly forgot what he had wanted to say. His own lips tingled, wanted to do something he dare not acknowledge. He forced his mouth to cooperate and form words instead. "I'm thirsty. Could we finish the rest of this session indoors after we've gotten a drink?"
Hermione blinked, coming back to herself. "Of course! I'm a little parched myself."
Though the moment of searing intensity between them had dwindled, a heat still suffused them that had nothing to do with the sun, but neither was ready to admit it to themselves yet.
. . .
A knock came at the door and Xenophilius Lovegood peered out the window suspiciously.
"Don't worry, daddy, I'll get it." Luna said calmly, drifting to the door.
"Luna, no!" He exclaimed. "It's some centaur I've never seen before. Let me speak with him."
Luna slipped up underneath his arm which was holding the curtain open to peek at their visitor. "It's Firenze." She said. "He's the astronomy teacher at Hogwarts. I wonder what he could be doing here."
Still wary, though too indulgent of his daughter to stop her from doing things she had made her mind up on, Xenophilius lurked behind her, unwilling to trust anyone who came knocking unexpectedly, especially at night. Since his little Luna had been taken from him, Xeno had devolved into even more of a hermit than he already was.
"Hello, Professor Firenze." Luna greeted her teacher kindly. "Would you like me to make up some tea?"
Firenze shook his head. "No, thank you, Miss Lovegood. I came for business only."
"Oh?" Luna questioned. "What business?"
"Headmistress McGonagall received your owl and sent me to ascertain whether your suspicions are correct." He explained.
Luna smiled softly. "Thank you for taking the trouble. Is there anything from my house I will need?"
"No." Firenze replied. "Nature will provide us with the answers we seek."
Luna nodded once, then turned to tell her father where she was going. He didn't seem enthused but he was more inclined to trust a Hogwarts professor than anyone else. Luna followed Firenze through the meadow she had wandered so often. "Is there a stream or pond nearby?" Firenze asked.
"I'll show you." Luna answered, veering right towards a thread of trees. Nestled in a little dip was a small stream that they were able to follow to a larger pond that swirled listlessly as water cycled into and flowed out of it. It was about one meter in diameter and had a greenish, ultramarine tinge to it. The moon and stars reflected in it easily. "Excellent." Firenze said. "The water and the moon have a special bond and both help aid in one's search for knowledge of things yet to come. Breathe, concentrate on the pull of both the water and the moon, and look for something in time to come. Since you are new, I don't expect you to know how to look for something specific, just tell me what you see."
"How will you know if I'm seeing the future?" Luna asked.
Firenze looked down t her with wise eyes. "I can tell, young Miss Lovegood. Now, let your gift take over. It should feel comforting. There's no need for worry."
Luna couldn't help but feel a little anxious. After all, she had told people she might have the Sight and it would be quite embarrassing if she was wrong. But then she remembered her conversation with Ginny. Prophecy just made sense- it clicked with some of her unexplained quirks. Taking a calming breath, Luna gazed into the reflection of the full moon in the pond. The gentle, twirling dance of the water seemed to her like the flow of time, a circle of the same mistakes, the same discoveries while only a few escaped and charted their own destinies. Even as the water shifted, the moon was an ancient reminder that things stay much the same, though perhaps the sun glinted of it a little different than it did yesterday, or the day before. Two facets saying the same thing in different ways: history repeats itself even while small variations keep things fresh and offer momentum. A vision gripped her. "Marked ones, zealots, gather strength. The Ministry is too sure and lets a snake inside. Another ripple approaches. While not as strong as before, it is no less lethal. The inescapable ouroboros will show itself again soon."
Luna sighed and felt as though a great weight had suddenly lifted from her mind. She felt a little dizzy for a moment.
Firenze looked at Luna with a wrinkled brow. That was more than he'd ever expected from her. She must have been unconsciously using her gift for some time for her to be this far along without any formal training. "You did very well. It seems you do have the Sight Miss Lovegood. Come. I will take you home."
Getting to her feet, Luna followed the centaur, a bubble of happiness welling up, though underneath lay a somber knowledge that something bad was coming, and soon.
Firenze pledged Luna's words to heart. He would inform the Headmistress of what he had learned immediately upon arrival. Something was definitely brewing in the wizarding world.
. . .
Severus tucked several important vials in his breast pocket and looked at himself in his full-sized mirror. It was a cool Monday on September the twenty-first. Severus' strength had returned to him and he had made a full recovery thanks to Miss Granger's attentive care. For weeks she had helped him gain his feet and he had to admit he felt much better now that he could care for himself. He was his own man now, and he could see the worry in Miss Granger's eyes that had started the day he could walk on his own. What she was worried about he wasn't certain, but he knew it had something to do with him. Perhaps she didn't trust him after all now that he wasn't helpless.
Still, when she had gone to Hogwarts to arrange her classes through correspondence with Headmistress McGonagall, she had taken the time to gather his belongings from his old quarters in the dungeons. Since Slughorn had requested other arrangements, no one had tried to enter these quarters to his knowledge, not that they would have been able to enter in the first place. Snape had protected its floo and door entrances with spells of his own making that now only he and Hermione knew the counter spells to. He had taught her so she might pack his things into that beaded bag for him. Severus felt much more at home with his own books, potions, and items surrounding him, and he felt more himself with his own closet of clothes.
Today he wore trousers, an undershirt, and his long-sleeved over shirt, all in black. He omitted his usual cloak since he would be reporting to the Ministry this morning for his first day as an auror. He needed free movement in this job.
Hermione saw the three of them out the door and wished them luck. "Be careful." She told Severus quietly as she handed him a packed lunch. She had not offered that same sentiment to the other two as she handed them their lunches and Severus felt heat suffuse his cheeks, though he couldn't suppress his smug expression. "Good studies, Miss Granger. I could help you with any questions you might have when I return."
To Snape's guilty pleasure, Ron fumed and walked to the edge of the yard, suddenly very eager to be leaving. Yes, the Weasley boy had no hope of teaching this brilliant witch anything. He couldn't challenge her intellectually. In a way he would always be her inferior.
Shocked by his own thoughts, Severus decided it was best if he didn't compare himself to Ron, especially in regards to Miss Granger. He turned his attention to Hermione's reply.
"I have had some difficulty with Advanced Arithmancy and Magical Theory." Hermione admitted, embarrassed.
"I have some books you might find helpful. We'll talk more tonight." Severus then turned to go. He did owe her a debt whether he wanted to or not, he admitted to himself. That had to be the main reason for his urge to help in her studies. Punishing Weasley was merely a bonus.
"Which entrance do you each prefer?" Harry asked once the three of them were in an open enough space to apparate.
"Wherever you two choose to go, I won't be following." Snape drawled. "Unless you want everyone knowing I live here with you."
"Good point." Harry said. "Ron and I will go to the restrooms."
Snape nodded. "I'll take the phone box, but I'll wait a few minutes after you two arrive to go myself. Showing up at the same time is still suspicious. And don't wait for me. If we were at separate locations we wouldn't arrange to meet up before we get to the Auror Office."
Ron and Harry agreed and apparated in short order.
Snape waited, quelling his fear. No one at the Ministry would be happy to see him and almost all of them had no idea he was even alive. He prepared himself to be ready for any possible attack. Just because he had a special insignia pinned to his front didn't mean everyone would see it while their emotions took hold. Perhaps Shacklebolt really didn't care whether anyone saw the official insignia or not. The image of an owl with the Minister for Magic's seal on the belly meant that the wearer had official, approved business at the Ministry, but if no one saw it before Snape was killed, Shacklebolt would no longer have to bother himself with him and all they would lose is information that they might have otherwise gained eventually.
At long last, Snape apparated, soothing his mind with the promise of helping Miss Granger in her studies if he returned to Ainsley Place safely.
