Consciousness was slow in coming, and at first, Severus could only feel the hard floor underneath him, and a sticky, wet substance coating his face and chest. Eventually, the smell was what roused him; he was covered in the acidic remains of vomit.
"Snape...! For Merlin's sake, boy, get up, or I will call that bloody medi-witch in here, and you'll have to fend off her infernal fussing! Get up!"
Groaning, Snape pried open his eyes. Phineas Nigellas was hovering in the nearest portrait, looking panicked.
"Thank the Gods," the former Headmaster exclaimed, and Snape could hear the muted rumble as the other Heads chimed in.
"Quiet," he pleaded shakily, head pounding. The room went silent.
Pulling himself into a sitting position, he tried to magic off the sick. It didn't do much. The spell was only a weak flicker of what it should have been, and it was clear that he was dangerously depleted.
"Winky," he called and flinched as the elf cracked in.
"Headmaster?" she asked, ears flopping with distress as she took in his condition.
"I need my black bag."
The house-elf didn't wait for any further orders, vanishing and reappearing in the space of several heartbeats. His large black medicinal bag was clutched to her chest.
Carefully placing it in front of him, the elf blinked rapidly. "Is the Headmaster wanting anything else? Madame Pomfrey? The Deputy Headmistress?"
"No," he said swiftly. "I want you to make sure that no one enters this room until I say so. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Headmaster," she squeaked and was gone again.
With shaking hands, he removed several phials from the bag and drank them. The potions resolved his lingering nausea, but not the numbness in his hands and feet. Casting a diagnostic spell was out of the question, and Snape was tempted to call in Pomfrey.
No, he finally decided. It's too dangerous to bring her in on this; I don't want to risk getting her obliviated as well when the Unspeakables come calling. There is no way Poppy would not ask questions about these injuries…
Reaching for a luridly pink vial, he swallowed it with reluctance. It was both a stimulant and a painkiller that could practically raise the dead, but the crash coming down was nearly as bad as the symptoms that it cured. In short order, his nerves and blood were humming with fake vitality, and he could lever himself off the floor and into a chair.
The cleaning charm worked the second time, and he closed his eyes, seeing the glowing wand pointing at him and Hermione's still, bloody figure sprawled on the floor writ large in his mind's eye. She had to be alive.
What can I do?
Apparating anywhere was completely out of the question, and Snape wasn't even sure if he had enough magic to make a portkey.
Should I summon Potter? He would gladly ride to the rescue…
"What happened?" Black asked softly, and Snape jolted back to the present.
"Madness," he answered tiredly, thoughts running in useless circles. "Sheer madness. It went to hell, and then a whole host of Unspeakables showed up..."
A cold tingle suddenly went up his spine, and Snape stiffened. Someone was at the gates and demanding entry; for a moment, he wondered if it was Hermione. But the Hogwarts protections shuddered again, determining that the person at the gates was a threat. He stood on shaking knees, surprised at how depleted he still was even with the stimulant.
"Someone is at the gates," he said uselessly, and Phineas nodded.
"Is it?..."
"No. Not Hermione. It's their Head, I think. The person is spitting mad, whoever it is."
"What are you going to do?"
He shrugged, debating briefly about taking another potion. "Go down and see what they want. See if Hermione is…" His voice cracked, and he couldn't finish the sentence.
"Will you take someone else?"
"No."
Phineas made an angry noise, and Severus turned to glare at him.
"Do you really want me to risk another member of staff? As long as I stay within the Hogwarts wards, they can't touch me."
"Fine," the other man snarled. "But be careful! I don't want to have to train yet another Headmaster, and Nimue knows the board is highly unlikely to nominate another Slytherin anytime soon."
It was a long walk down to the gates, and Snape knew that he looked like utter shite by the time he reached the base of the hill because he felt even worse. As expected, a red-robed figure was waiting impatiently for him, and he took his bloody time navigating the last hundred or so metres.
"Is she alive?" he demanded, a final whiff of adrenaline coming to his rescue as he came even with gates.
To his surprise, the hood fell back, and the hard expression of Moira Burke gazed back at him. She had been a quiet girl a year or two ahead of him as well as a Slytherin prefect; he knew nothing about her life post-Hogwarts which fit if she'd gone into the Department of Mysteries.
She ignored his question. "I learned any number of questionable things tonight, Headmaster, chief of which was that a major security breach had been covered up by one of my best sets of agents and that you have been thoroughly involved in the entire charade from nearly the start."
"Is. She. Alive?" he growled again, fear eating away at him.
Moira glared right back. "Step out of the gates, and I'll tell you."
"And then get myself obliviated for my troubles? I think not, Madam Unspeakable," he returned mockingly.
Her lips thinned in frustration. "Don't use that tone with me, Snape. In addition to losing several of my agents tonight, I am well within my rights to be furious at the blatant disregard for protocol that has put us all at risk of discovery. And then, of course, is the mess that I am left with caused by Sir Edward Fucking Montblanc-Rowle and his pack of killer crups!"
"Paperwork is such a time-killer, isn't it?" he said, maintaining his sarcasm.
"Snape-" she began again, but he cut her off.
"Tell me if she lives or fuck right off, Moira. I don't have any more patience than you tonight." Was Hermione one of those who had died? Christ, please, not again!
Burke eyed him silently for over a minute. When she spoke once more, her voice was reasonably calm.
"I am not my predecessor, Headmaster Snape. I do not allow breaches of security simply because I am friends with someone; that sort of vulnerability was exploited by both Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle, and it led to the deaths of many agents, as well as the destruction of decades of priceless work in my department. You now know the identities of several of my Unspeakables and have a considerable amount of information about an open investigation that is highly classified. I cannot allow you to wander around freely with that knowledge without risking further lives, not to mention the very stability of our government."
"Bullshite," Snape said flatly. "I am the strongest Occlumens in all of Europe. Do remember that I kept quite a few secrets from the Dark Lord, to say nothing of Albus Dumbledore- for decades. Furthermore, I'm not an idiot. I would hardly go around yapping about bloodline curses and attempted takeovers to the first person I see. There is no risk in leaving my memories untouched."
Burke shook her head. "I don't make exceptions, Snape. You can come with me now, and I will have our best person available obliviate you to ensure you keep your mind and your magic. You can, of course, decline my generous offer. But the instant you leave this Castle, we will hunt you down and I will take your memories from you forcibly, consequences be damned. I cannot say that it will leave you sound of mind or body."
Anger flooded his veins and sharpened his senses. "You want me to be Obliviated? Fine. Send Granger to do your dirty work. It's her fault I was involved in this shit show. Until then, I repeat, fuck off."
His heated words didn't get the response that he had hoped for. Moira's voice was almost gentle when she spoke again. "Snape, she can't."
"Can't come to me," he snarled, terror cracking his mask, "or won't?"
"Can't," the woman repeated and then disappeared with a crack.
Snape couldn't even summon his Patronus.
Seven hours of trying and he was left with absolutely nothing. Perhaps it was due to lingering magical depletion or the aching fear that Hermione was dead, but regardless, he was unable to conjure even the faintest spark of light from his useless wand.
He had sent Phineas to Grimmauld Place in hopes of hearing something from the Potters and was at a loss for something else to do in the meantime. His owl to Hermione had returned with the letter undelivered, and it was clear that the memories of all the parties involved were swiftly being altered via a wickedly strong confundus charm. A floo conversation with Narcissa had revealed that she recalled nothing amiss at Montblanc-Rowle Manor, or indeed, many of the details of the jewellery heists that she had previously known. She now thought her missing necklace was an isolated incident, not part of a wider conspiracy. Most frightening of all, she did not remember Hermione's presence except in the vaguest of terms.
"Darling," she trilled, "why do you keep asking about that ghastly woman as if I would pay the least bit of attention to her?"
"Never mind," he answered flatly. "I was mistaken in something I thought."
"Are you well? You look terrible." Narcissa sighed heavily, worry coming into her expression. "Listen, I know it was rather unfair of me to shove this all on you, and so Lucius and I decided to go to the Aurors and see if they have any luck recovering the necklace."
"You what?"
"Don't be mad, it's not a reflection on anything that you've done or any lack of confidence in your skills. We might as well use the Ministry to our own ends. I didn't know this, but Lucius got the piece insured several months ago. If they can't find it, we will at least get a sizable payout for our troubles."
"Lovely," he said with a grimace, horrified at how much of Narcissa's memory and mind had been modified. While the confundus charm was far less dangerous than an obliviate, observing the wide-scale memory work meted out by the Ministry made him feel like a character in a dystopian novel.
"I'm glad you think so. Will I see you later this week at the Shafiq's dinner?"
"I don't know. Perhaps."
"Do come, Severus. It's not healthy for you to hide yourself away in Hogwarts like it's a monastery, and the Shafiqs put on the nicest spread. Why last year, they had this turkey curry buffet-"
"I will consider it," he interrupted, seeing Phineas re-entering his frame with a grim look. "I need to go, Narcissa. Duty calls."
"Of course," she replied, smiling calmly as she broke the connection.
"Well?" he demanded, and the portrait only shook his head.
"I told Potter that Granger had missed an important meeting with you and that you were rather put out about it."
"And?" Snape asked, dread making it hard to speak.
"Nothing doing. Potter did receive a cheery note from her this morning, but I doubt it was authentic. Supposedly, she's gone to Australia to check on her parents and will be incommunicado for several weeks."
"Of course," he snarled, a helpless, impotent rage filling him.
"What are you going to do?" Phineas asked.
Severus sank down into his chair and rested his head in his hands. If he had something of Hermione's—a hair or blood sample, even an item of clothing—there were spells that could be used to track her, but he had nothing.
Absolutely nothing but memories.
"Wait."
Three days later, the entire Castle creaked with the emotional havoc that was the rapidly unravelling composure of the Headmaster. There had been no further word from Moira Burke. He kept to the office for everyone's protection, wearing a hole in the Axminister with his pacing.
He was still furious with Hermione; his sense of betrayal had not lessened any. But that feeling was counterbalanced by the remembrance of her desperate, heartbroken expression just before she had kissed him in the library. Given what he had learned of Montblanc-Rowle's evil plan, he could no longer fault her ruthless decision making; it was a match to his own. While he did not like the circumstances of their re-acquaintance, he no longer could quibble with them.
At the end of the day, his heart had finally overruled his mind and his ego. Severus wished with every fibre of his being that he would get a chance to talk things out with Hermione.
Was it love? He didn't know. Whether it be for his mother or Lily, the sentiment had always been a confusing, complex one, and more a double-edged sword than anything positive. Certainly what he felt for Hermione wasn't of the soft and tender persuasion- at least not entirely- but strongly resembled the possessive obsession that he'd felt for Lily.
There was a key difference, however: when Lily had ended their friendship so long ago, he had been driven to not just regain her affection for him, but to prove to her what a mistake she had made in not forgiving him in the first place, in choosing Potter over him. There had been a bitter and vindictive edge to his desperate anger, and it was rage that had only been extinguished when it became clear what colossal mistake Severus had made in going to the Dark Lord with Sybill Trelawney's prophecy.
Severus felt nothing of the sort towards Hermione now. He had no stomach for proving her wrong, or dragging her through the mud for her actions; he simply wanted to forgive her and have a chance to be forgiven in return. Indeed, he wanted her, mind, body, and soul. But he did not even know if Hermione lived, and that was driving him just as mad as a poorly cast obliviate would.
His anxiety did not go unnoticed; both Poppy and Minerva came to speak with him. After all that had happened between them during his first year as Headmaster, he was touched by their obvious concern as well the fact that they dared to visit him in his lair in such high dudgeon.
Poppy was twisting a handkerchief into a knot as she watched him from across the large black desk. "Severus… what is wrong?"
"It's a personal matter. Hogwarts is not in danger."
"Is there anything that we can do?" Minerva asked crisply.
"No. Not without putting yourself at risk."
Minerva slanted him a hard look. "And you think that we would be unwilling to risk our safety for you?"
Unexpectedly, Severus felt his eyes prick; he did not deserve their compassion, but it touched him nonetheless.
"I do not doubt your courage, Minerva, or yours, Poppy. But I will not leave Hogwarts to flounder if something should happen to me."
Both women stared at him, aghast.
"It's not… surely things are not that dire, are they?"
"I don't know. I may shortly make a decision that is based on my personal desires rather than my responsibilities as Headmaster. Should that happen, and something impacts my ability to fulfil my duties, I will expect that you will take over without hesitation, Minerva."
"Severus… lad…"
He shook his head, and then looked to the grave coterie of former heads that were silently watching from the walls. "They know what happened, and should you be called on to take mastery of the school, you will be given the information under an unbreakable binding. I am sorry to keep it from you like this, Min, but I don't have a choice. I am being as honest about things as I can be."
Minerva did not like his answer, that much was clear. But she also saw what a wreck he was and chose to trust him. She rose and bowed formally. "As you wish, Headmaster."
If I somehow come out of this with my mind intact, he vowed, I will live better. I will put aside my hurts and bitterness, and I will do it better, no matter the pain…
"Thank you," he replied with an equal amount of gravitas, rising.
In short order, both women left him to his bleak thoughts. He resumed pacing, the knot of tension unbearably tight.
"Phineas," he called finally, watching the dying winter sun sink behind the mountains and under the fathomless waters of the lake.
"Headmaster Snape," Black acknowledged, lips pressed into a thin line as he awaited the decision.
"I can wait no longer."
"Gods be with you," the other man said formally, and Snape pulled on his travelling cloak in a flurry of wool and angst.
"And with you." Taking a calming breath, he spun free of Hogwarts' sanctuary and into the dark unknown.
The cramped garden shed was exactly as he remembered it. Hermione's household wards, however, had been massively changed. Her magic was still there but comprised only a passive foundation. The sentience that had so impressed him was all but gone. Either someone had broken in and mended them minimally, or Hermione was, in fact, dead.
At that realisation, he gagged, the thought of having lost her forever making him violently ill. Throwing open the narrow shed door, he fell to his knees and heaved into the overgrown grass until there was nothing but bile burning the back of his throat. Shakily, he wiped his mouth and gazed around; it appeared that no one was lying in wait for him.
Making his way to the kitchen door, he tested the knob carefully, finding it unlatched. The interior of the house was silent as a tomb, and he saw no trace of her cat.
Slowly, he walked through the empty rooms, seeking some sort of definitive clue as to Hermione's well-being. Severus found her childhood bedroom on the second floor, the number of books rivalled only by her menagerie of plush animals. In contrast, her parents' bedroom appeared to be half-ransacked as if they had left with only a minimal chance to pack. Severus wondered if it had sat abandoned like this for years.
The house creaked around him as he made his way down the second-floor corridor to the back bedroom. After the way that he had rejected her, it felt like a violation to enter her bedchamber. Standing at the closed door for over five minutes, he debated whether or not to enter. His curiosity finally won out, and cautiously, he opened the door.
The air smelled slightly of Hermione, not a manufactured, mass-produced scent, but something far more subtle and elusive. It brought to mind the peace found in her arms, and he wanted to weep for those lost moments. Running a hand over the smooth coverlet of her bed, Severus gazed around the bare room, once again struck with the austerity of the space.
If the house made one thing clear, it was that the self-inflicted loss of her parents had wounded her terribly, and she had never recovered from that estrangement.
Spinner's End had been much like this, the dismal nature reflecting what he felt was an apt punishment for his many sins. Oh, Hermione's childhood home offered far more creature comforts for sure, but they only served to needle her further with what had been lost.
He wondered if Potter had seen and understood this side of Hermione, or if he had accepted her competence at face value; he questioned if there was anyone else who would know her well enough to see the gaping wounds that remained. Little wonder she had been stuck.
Severus wandered around the house for an hour, and still no one came for him. Ending up in the lounge, he finally sunk down into the overstuffed sofa. A plush throw lay across the back, and he stroked it. It was covered in orange cat hair but smelled like Hermione. Pulling it into his lap, he gave in to the exhaustion that had been dogging him for days. Severus slept.
The sound of footsteps roused him from a light doze, and Severus' brain kicked into overdrive immediately, the small details of the room coming into rapid focus as adrenaline rocketed through him.
Moira Burke strode into the room, a pale-faced, hunched Hermione leaning heavily on her arm.
Oh, thank god! Severus was on his feet and rushing towards her in an instant, but Burke blocked his path.
"I am giving you far more than I should, Headmaster. You get the answer to your question, and as you requested, Hermione will be performing the Obliviate." Her tight smile was grim but not at all victorious. "Lucky for you, she insisted on doing the deed herself, and she is the best at it. Who at Hogwarts knows what has occurred?"
"Just the portraits," Snape told her tiredly, unable to tear his eyes from Hermione. "I would not put my staff at risk, and the former heads are all bound to silence by their enchantments." Burke raised a sceptical brow at that, and he pointed his wand towards the ceiling in the traditional manner. "Do you want me to swear it upon my magic, Moira?"
"No. You've never let anyone take your punishment before. I will trust you on this." The Head of the Unspeakables turned her head and eyed Hermione for a long moment. "You have ten minutes to settle your business, Granger."
Without another word, she left, and they heard the kitchen door open and shut behind her just short of a slam. His mouth went dry. There would be no reprieve, and panic flared up before he clamped down hard on his emotions. Severus had known that this would be the likely outcome, and he had judged it an acceptable price to pay to find out if Hermione lived. Now the only thing left to do was to apologise and pray that it was enough.
Hermione appeared more than poorly; she looked like death warmed over and then killed again for good measure. Her skin was a bright, cartoonish yellow, indicating some sort of liver failure; she also couldn't stand up straight, and a fine sheen of sweat dotted her forehead as she struggled to remain standing in the hallway.
"Sit," he ordered gruffly, wanting to touch her so badly that it hurt, but there was nothing in her expression that made him think it would be welcome.
She did so gingerly, eyes avoiding his.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked, making a mental list of medicinal potions based on her appearance. Abruptly, he remembered that he was about to be obliviated and it would not matter if there were ways that he could help heal her; he would not remember any of this come the morning.
"I am growing a new liver and kidney, among other things," she told him quietly. "The healers are confident that there will be no lasting issues."
"Good." He sat across from her, not wanting to hover like some woollen vulture. "Did Higgs make it?"
Hermione glanced up, surprised by his question. "Yes. He's unhurt."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, voice catching. "I acted abominably— "
She put up a shaking hand. "Please don't feel like you need to apologise. You have every right to be furious with me. I used you horribly and repeatedly lied by omission. I do not blame you at all for your reaction."
"But I do. I may not like the choices that you made, but I do understand them. If we are being perfectly honest, I likely would have chosen similarly had our roles been reversed."
She let out a bitter chuckle. "How can you say that? Do you know why I sucked you off in that closest? It wasn't just because Terence was trying to get information out of Montblanc-Rowle and I couldn't risk you overhearing their conversation. No, I was mad at you- I warned you off, and you still came after me. I wanted to punish you the only way I could!"
Her words hurt him, but not in the fashion intended; they made Severus ache for Hermione's sake, for the way that she purposely sought to re-confirm her own culpability in a situation that had pushed them all past the brink of normal behaviour.
"Were those the only reasons that compelled you to touch me, Hermione?" he persisted. "Because I think there was far more going on than merely that. I told myself that I was going after you because of the missing jewels, but that was just an excuse. I wanted you like nothing else, and it terrified and enraged me in equal measures. And so what did I do? Unable to sort any of that blasted mess out, I cornered you and kissed you the first chance I got."
Hermione looked away, and he knew that he'd struck a chord; she'd wanted him just as badly as he wanted her, and it had aroused a similarly confused welter of sentiment within her.
"Do you know why I allowed the Carrows to torture your friends and fellow students? Why I tortured them?" he queried softly, not waiting for her response. "I couldn't risk the Dark Lord having any doubt that I wasn't his man through and through. Their considerable pain served as a guarantee that he wouldn't replace me with someone truly bent on evil. And I will tell you this: it blackened my soul more than any murder ever did. But the worst of it was that there was also a horrid corner of my being that had no compunction about inflicting suffering upon those residing in the Castle. After all, when had they ever seen me as anything other than Death Eater scum? Even as a child, they had seen me as deserving nothing other than pain and suffering. And then that first year as Headmaster… they only saw me as pure evil. Even Minerva and Poppy, my two closest confidants in the Castle, didn't see through the mask or the ruse. Didn't question that I was anything other than the great betrayer."
Severus' voice cracked at the powerful recollection of those dark days. "I punished them for it, and at the end, I felt worthy of only a terrible death. Hermione… I do not like the choices that you made, but then, I don't like many of the choices I've made over the years, either. For what it's worth, I forgive you, and I hope that you can pardon my actions as well. The way that I shamed you, and let others speak about you… please don't let what I did haunt you, or make you feel any less than the magnificent woman and witch you are."
Eyes fluttering shut by the end of his speech, Severus watched Hermione's face go pasty. "Thank you for that. You are being incredibly generous about all of this. There is nothing I can say other than I am terribly sorry. And I do forgive you."
Reaching across the vast gulf that separated them, he placed a light hand on her knee, hoping to impart some comfort. "Please try and forgive yourself as well. Believe me when I say that attempting to atone for anything without forgiving yourself is both a Sisyphean and pyrrhic endeavour."
"I will try," she whispered.
"One more thing," he stated firmly and waited until she met his eyes. He would not burden her further with his feelings, but Severus would be damned if he didn't at least let her know that he cared. "Please don't cut yourself off from happiness. Don't let yourself remain alone just because you think that is all you deserve."
A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I will try," she repeated, but there was no conviction in her tone. The sight of that tear was a dagger to the heart, and only the knowledge that it would make her task all that much harder kept Severus from breaking down as well.
A glance at the clock confirmed that they had only minutes left.
"How shall we do this?"
Hermione pulled two small vials from a pocket. "This one will help thin your mental shields; if you can trust me enough to try and lower them further, there will be a greater chance for success."
"And the second?"
Her smile was anaemic. "Industrial-strength wit sharpener for me."
"Is there anything else I need to do?"
"A trance state would be helpful, but I understand that it may be too much to ask."
"I will attempt it." Snape paused, knowing his next words would hurt her more. "Hermione… you have to take it all. A targeted obliviate and a confundus won't be enough."
She froze. "What do you mean?"
"I am not a man that does things in half-measures… that night, at the Greengrass', I came away thoroughly obsessed with figuring out the contradictions in your story... I became obsessed with you. Indeed, I spent the better part of two weeks trying to figure out how to draw you into my orbit. If you leave anything of that evening…"
"You will continue to seek me out." Her face turned into a lifeless mask.
"Yes. And given our combined luck, that will likely result in us ending up back in the same situation at some point."
"What if I planted an aversion?"
A bark of rough laughter escaped. "If seven years as a student and as Potter's best friend didn't provide enough of an aversion to your presence, then nothing will. You have to take it all."
She nodded, silently handing him the vial. He knocked back the concoction in one gulp, feeling only the faintest tingle as the potion was absorbed.
"You should feel an increasing sense of relaxation as well as trust," she intoned flatly, gaze opaque.
Snape closed his eyes, probing his mental landscape. Nothing felt different, but then, he already trusted Hermione with everything of importance. Slowing his breathing, he worked on entering a calm state. He heard a second pop as she uncorked the second vial and drank it down.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
"Yes." Letting his black regard meet hers, Severus lowered every mental shield that he had control over. "Obliviation is worth it, Hermione. To be able to have the chance to apologize, to ask for forgiveness… to finally know that you are alive. That knowledge, even fleeting, is worth any risk. And I have faith that you will do your best."
"Thank you." She was perched on the edge of the armchair, wand out and pointed at him. Severus saw a woman who would do her duty even as it broke her.
Her lips moved.
"Oblivia…"
A.N.~ The final chapter will be posted next week.
As ever, my thanks to all who continue to read, fav, and follow! Cheers to luv4edwardcullen, teishamarie, ZoeyOlivia, TheLadyBookworm, Silvermary, houstonclay, kaddiekat and several lovely guests who left comments on the previous chapter.
Wash your hands(!) and happy reading!