Ch. 5 – The Myth of Cassandra
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Severus watched as the witch, clad once more in her dowdy robes, left again early in the morning.
Potter had quit them soon after they finished their meal and returned them to Grimmauld Place. At Lucius's insistence, Potter had apparated both him and Lucius, leaving Miss Granger to apparate herself. She had arrived a few minutes later.
The bill had been paid in full— she had literally sang for their supper. And a wonderful supper it had been even if Miss Granger's company had left something to be desired.
The girl was still so very reticent towards them, and though Severus couldn't blame her as his behavior upon their arrival at the house as well as a prisoner when she came to visit him in Azkaban had been boorish bordering on offensive, he needed her to know he'd since had a change of heart towards her, and he didn't use those words lightly.
Gods, but the songs she'd sung!
How Severus wished he'd had her to sing that last song to him during his time as a spy.
As a child, she hadn't taken part in the traditional fripperies and adolescent pangs her peers had, and as a young adult, she had appeared much as the child. But how she had blossomed and truly come into her own during the years since thanks to that place.
That place that was so much a haven for her; as plain as the nose on Severus's face, he could see that with friendships and familial ties every bit as strong as she shared with Potter.
Once more, she arrived red-faced and breathless and stood below the window where he kept his silent vigil, her outfit soaked with perspiration. However, her hair kept its plait, but barely. His body reacted viscerally to the sight of her, but he was unprepared for the tugging at his heart.
Should he truly be surprised though? Truly?
For him, love and desire had always been closely intertwined, and rarely had he been able to divest himself of the act of love in order to perform the perfunctory act of sex. Over the weeks of observing her, Severus had begun to love her, in incremental doses, and was learning to do so more each and every day.
It was easy to love Hermione Jean Granger, but it was hell getting close to her.
Severus made his way to the kitchen and finished his preparations for her breakfast, and he dearly hoped she would stick to pattern. Since the elf was gone, he was taking it upon himself to care for her meals… well, those she didn't cook herself, and so, he hoped to have more interaction with her.
Hearing the door open and her quiet footfalls, he remained silent as well until she stepped into the kitchen, and he began separating eggs.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," he rasped calmly, not looking up from his egg preparation.
"P-professor Snape," she said in surprise, backing up a step.
He quickly looked up and then back down again. Her color was high, her eyes wide, and her arms were crossed in front of her chest in an immediate protective stance.
"There's juice on the table. Have a seat, breakfast will be finished shortly," he clipped, wishing his voice would allow him more latitude concerning syntax. Because of his vocal limitations, his already caustic -sounding voice virtually barked words or whispered them faintly. And there were days where he could barely get a voiced word out.
"I—errm, Professor, I don't think—"
He looked up at her and met her gaze, his own not looking anywhere but her eyes, "I have asked you once before not to call me that." She flinched at his rasping tone and backed up a step, ready to bolt before he could finish speaking with his broken voice. He mentally rolled his eyes at his own limitations and maintaining her eye contact said via Legilimency, 'Forgive me, Miss Granger. Losing my voice as I've done makes me seem even more acerbic than I already am.'
Her eyes widened as his words appeared in her mind, but licking her lips, she nodded, and he continued, 'As I was trying to say without much success, I am no longer your professor, Miss Granger, and would feel most at ease if you called me 'Severus'. If this is too informal than Mr. Snape will do.' Now, please see to your juice on the table.' He gestured behind her, 'And have a seat. Your breakfast will be finished soon.'
"And what of 'Master Snape'?" she asked, as she did as he bid and sat at the table watching him cook for her.
"I am no longer 'Master' of anything, at least, not yet," he ground, plating the egg-white omelet he prepared and adding a piece of fruit and another goblet-full of chilled water to what he would bring to her.
"But you will be," she said with certainty as he sat her plate and cup in front of her and sat at the bench across from where she sat, sipping on his coffee.
'Your continued faith in the Ministry astounds me, Miss Granger,' he rasped dryly as he watched her dig in.
"Your lack of faith continues to astound me. And…" she held up a forkful of egg to her lips and chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed, "you are master of your destiny, captain of your fate… at least now that you are free. That has to count for something… so 'Master Snape' it shall be," she dimpled at him and saluted him with her goblet of water. "By the way, was it you who made my breakfast the other morning when I came back from dance class?"
"Dance classes?" Severus asked, intrigued, "Is that where you go? What kind?" he asked, cursing himself for his enthusiasm. He sounded like a lovelorn Hufflepuff on a first date. Gods, help him!
"Lyrical Dance." She took a sip of juice and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. Thank gods, she hadn't noticed. "It's a mixture of ballet and street moves, but sometimes it's freestyle. Really, the class is so informal; you just…" she shrugged, "do what you feel. And it is fun. But you didn't answer my question; did you make my breakfast the other morning?"
"I did; do you think you would have enjoyed taking a subject like this dance-class while at Hogwarts?" he whispered, his goal to keeping her talking about herself and the focus away from him. But if there was one thing he underestimated, it was the girl's tenacity.
"As a student, I probably would have found it a colossal waste of time," she smirked, "It's amazing how perspective shifts as you get older, but again I ask, why did you make me breakfast before? And today as well?"
Severus couldn't help it; he rolled his eyes at her, and said via Legilimency, 'Because you are a hungry witch in need of nourishment, and we are elf-less. Because last week, when I saw you gobble up a single slice of toast and call yourself 'fed', I knew something had to be done. Because someone has to take the time to care for your physical needs if you do not.'
Her eyes widened at the last, and she gulped.
In replaying what he said in his mind, his eyes widened as well when he realized the suggestive overtones of his mental phrasing. That was one of the drawbacks of using this form of communication. Very little editing occurred between thought and 'speech'. And Severus, never one to guard his tongue when speaking his mind at the best of times, found it even more difficult to do so with the witch now seated before him.
However, instead of apologizing for the ribald, misconstrued potential of his words, he let them stand.
She would know his intentions toward her soon enough, and if what he said got her thinking about him in that light, then all the better for him.
"So, ahem… Master Snape, what are your plans for today?" She sounded genuinely curious.
His lips twitched, as he thought to her, 'You mean other than scouring the Potters' mediocre library, searching for a volume I haven't yet read?'
She winced, "It is pretty… pedestrian, is it not? Well, the books that are Harry's. Most of the Black's reading material is entirely unsuitable for casual viewing, at least not without a wand. And I love Harry and Ginny dearly, but neither are too keen on the written word."
"I remember," he rasped, giving her a dry look. "Gods help their progeny."
She smiled, "Your namesake actually enjoys reading very much, and quite honestly, I won't be surprised if the child is sorted either into Ravenclaw or Slytherin. And only time will tell with little Lily Luna."
"And their eldest?" Severus inquired, careful not to speak the boy's name. He had long since made his peace with both James Potter and Sirius Black, but that didn't stop him from a feeling of initial loathing, not towards the child, but the names themselves.
"James Sirius is like his namesakes as well," she smirked up at him. "He's a handful and is destined to break the heart of many a witch, I'm certain." She rose from the table, and using a few cleansing spells, had the kitchen looking spotless and pristine again in seconds, putting her now clean plate and goblets away.
Severus stood as well and faced her.
She looked up at him, her eyes shining softly with their golden hue, "Thank you very much for breakfast, Severus. I do have my collection of books upstairs in my bag if you'd like to take a look?" she offered. "I'm not promising you'll find anything of merit or worth, but… I can promise it's better than Kitchen Witch Monthly."
The both of them visibly winced at that.
"It would be my pleasure, Miss Granger," he whispered, feeling more of that buoying lightness of spirit she seemed to inspire within him.
Biting her lip, and obviously debating with herself for just a moment, she looked up at him and said, "If I am to call you 'Severus', then I insist you call me 'Hermione'. That is if we are to move past the roles of which our first impressions disposed us?"
Severus quirked a small smile, and taking a step towards her, whispered, "Just so, Hermione. Just so."
"What's this? Have I overslept and missed breakfast?" Severus saw Hermione jump and turn to look at the kitchen entrance, a palpable pall of guarded isolation coming over her even as he watched. She blushed and once more put her hands around her chest protectively.
He looked over to find Lucius looking her up and down assessing her clothing; the blond wizard's eyebrows were raised.
And just like that, they were back to square one.
"Thanks again for breakfast," she said stiffly, her eyes now guarded and averted.
She turned to leave, darting past Lucius, and Severus called after her, "I'll be up for the books." His voice broke and he knew she hadn't heard him as she was already headed up the stairs.
He gave Lucius a look of undisguised disgust.
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If there was one thing Lucius Malfoy hated more, it was being outdone.
And Severus had just done so at bringing the delightful Miss Granger out from her flinty shell.
Three more days, and the journal would be duplicated. And then he could work on 'mending his fences' with her as it were.
But in the next three days, both Severus and the girl could form an attachment, a bond, and then where would that leave him?
It had been no coincidence Lucius had interrupted them when he had. He had been listening almost from the moment she finished her first bite, and the fact she used Severus's first name and asked him to reciprocate was telling indeed.
Upon her agenda today was a two o'clock meeting with her advisor for her dissertation, and she was purportedly to meet with him by 'floo'.
At five minutes 'til, Lucius very graciously knocked on her door to remind her of it.
"Miss Granger?"
The door opened a crack and one golden eye peeked out, eyeing him suspiciously.
"I just wanted to remind you of your two o'clock meeting with your advisor via 'floo' to discuss your dissertation."
The golden eye widened, and he heard her gasp, "Oh, shite! That's today?"
Her door was flung wide open, and Lucius watched, amused, as she ran hither and thither, gathering papers and murmuring to herself.
And he was quickly learning that a flustered Miss Granger was one whose defenses were down.
She rushed out of her room with a minute to spare, and Lucius followed her to the study where Severus was already seated, reading.
She paid them no mind as the fireplace crackled right as she sat down before the hearth on hastily transfigured poof, and a head appeared through the flames.
Immediately, Lucius recognized the poofter—Alec Derwinn, one of the top leading criminal defense barristers for the Wizarding World—and also a muggle-born.
Had his conviction been in question, Lucius would have considered hiring him—even with the barrister's blood status, perhaps because of his blood status— but Lucius wasn't given the choice. He was sent directly to prison based solely on the evidence of his Dark Mark alone. The only marked Death Eaters to fully escape widespread conviction had been the younger witches and wizards—Draco's generation—that had their Marks put in place when they were still minors. And even then, a few of them—Draco not among them, thank Merlin for that—were still convicted and sentenced to life without parole.
However, they'd had a trial before the Wizengamot and their dark deeds brought to light by 'Priori Incantatem'.
Draco had always kept his nose and his wand clean; Lucius had made sure of it because he knew just such an eventuality as that would occur one day… whether he was there to witness it or no.
Lucius was somewhat proud to say, that, at least in this, the boy had listened.
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"What the hell are you wearing, Granger? You look like my Aunt Agnes."
Hermione sat down on her hastily transfigured poof and quickly grabbed the case-study the three of them had been working on.
"You're still beautiful!" she heard Grieg yell from the back of the 'floo'.
"Give it up, Chesterfield! She's not interested! You're not, are you?" her adviser Alec Derwinn asked her. "I mean, I think you could do way better, Granger. OW!" A second head poked itself into the fire, forcing Alec to make room.
"Hello, gorgeous! Yowza! You make even his Aunt Agnes's robes look good!" Grieg gave a wolf-whistle and began to heavy pant. Grieg, like her, was another defense barrister-in training, equivalent to a muggle graduate student. He had been in Hufflepuff, two years above her in school, and was studying body-language, tone of voice, and facial expression in order to better gauge when someone was withholding the truth. He'd already taken the Bar, and was a practicing attorney, but was still 'learning the ropes' as it were.
"Quiet, you," Alec, a muggle-born like her, but of Ravenclaw and almost two decades out of school, did a fair imitation of Mr. Peabody, "Now, let's talk shop. I looked over your notes for the Levianthon trial, and this is why I'm so glad you're not going into prosecution, Granger! Gods! You'd have him convicted and Kissed before tea!"
She winced, and said, "His personality does kind of… errm, lend itself to a guilty verdict, and the evidence—though circumstantial, is overwhelming."
Alec snapped his fingers and pointed at her, "Exactly. You know, I took Levianthon as a client because I'm t'eed off! The evidence is damning, but it was the victim's family who submitted it to the Aurors. This is unacceptable, and the only reason they are getting away with it is because of their wealth and political standing."
He adjusted his glasses and continued, "Now, the problem with this case has always been the rich will think they won't need to go to the Aurors anymore. They're going to get their own lawyers to collect evidence, and then they are going to choose which evidence they feel like passing on to the Ministry. And the next victim to be accused isn't going to be rich like Levianthon—but is going to be some poor bastard from Liverpool who can't afford, or who can't find, a decent barrister."
"So… the only way we're going to win is if we knock out each of the prosecution's 'so-called' pieces of evidence one at a time," Grieg continued, "But that's going to be difficult to do when they won't divulge much of what they've got until the trial."
Hermione nodded, "From the evidence already gathered, I tried to make the strongest case I could for the prosecution. The case isn't sealed air-tight, but I think, perhaps, the only way you're going to win is through appeal. The court of public opinion has already convicted him. The Wizengamot will be hard-pressed not to follow suit."
"Well… we've already begun the pre-emptive groundwork for the appeal." Alec shook his head, "You know, this case reminds me a bit of my 'Lord Voldemort dream'."
Hermione and Grieg looked at their mentor strangely, and Alec shrugged, continuing, "When I first decided to become a barrister for the defense, I had to reconcile myself with the fact that everyone, no matter how culpable, deserved to be defended, so, I thought of what would happen if Lord Voldemort came knocking on my door, requesting my services to defend him. I'd have to decide do I take the case, or do I kill him?"
"Oh, you?" Grieg asked. "No question."
"I'd take the case," Alec nodded.
Smiling, Hermione responded, "Then kill him."
The three chuckled and talked a bit more about the case, but during a lull, Grieg narrowed his eyes and asked her, "Here's a little thought experiment for you, Granger, with yourself being muggle-born as well, how would you defend Voldemort if he came knocking on your door?"
"Fairly easily, actually," Hermione answered, and both Alec and Grieg looked at her disbelieving. She shrugged, and continuing looking down at her notes, said. "He was rendered non compos mentis at conception. Love potion," she explained, "Voldemort was conceived under the effects of love potion thus rendering him sociopathically insane. Case closed."
The two looked at her speechless, their eyes going wide.
She looked up. "Are you both surprised because I put the two together, or are you surprised because you didn't know that? Surely you two have read one or two of the numerous biographies out there concerning him?"
Again, she received blank stares.
"Philistines the lot." She shook her head. "Alright, so I'd defend him, probably get him a nice, cushy cell in the lower bowels of St. Mungo's for my trouble, but… I, like Alec, would most definitely have to kill him. There's no way the snake-headed bastard would deserve to get off with a plea of insanity, but… I'd still be proving—"
"Everyone deserves a defense," the two chimed unenthusiastically together, both shaking their heads at her.
"You're a piece of work, you know that, Granger?" Alec told her, gesturing he'd be back in a moment with her dissertation.
"A piece of art, you mean," Grieg called behind his shoulder, "Botticelli's Venus, Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, The Rape of the Sabine Women…"
She laughed despite herself and shook her head, "Grieg, did you run out of hackneyed works of muggle art in which to compare my dubious charms or was that a thinly veiled threat?"
"Here, now!" Grieg hedged, smiling slightly with his boyish charm. "I'll have you know I took a whole course on muggle art history once way back in my university days…"
"A whole course," she said with wide-eyed innocence, "why, that must make you an expert in the field!"
"Hmm, yes. I've taught many classes on the subject since as well as have my own work displayed to much international acclaim." Grieg affected a simpering air exactly like Gilderoy Lockhart had been wont to do. 'For full details…"
"—see my published works," she finished with him and smiled over the old saw. "But yes," she cleared her throat and got back to business at hand, "the holes in the argument are coming down to exact timing. It seems to me, if you have proof Levianthon wasn't there, then you're going to have to divulge exculpatory evidence to that effect." She gave him a pointed look. "Otherwise you're going to have to wait until the appeal."
"But Granger, he has a good reason—a really good reason— for not divulging," Grieg bemoaned.
She shot him a dry look. "Uh-huh, don't they all? If he hopes to walk out a free man instead of being led away in chains, he's going to have to come clean. And the Wiz doesn't take too kindly to the defense withholding evidence, no matter the reason, Grieg. These are the times we live in; you know as well as I."
"Yes, practicing law in the Post-Voldemort Wizarding World. Do something about that, won't you, when you begin whispering in the Wiz's ear, hmm?"
"Reminds me of the myth of the Greek Goddess Cassandra," she said absently as she looked back over her notes of his case-study to see if she missed anything.
She hadn't.
Alec poked his head back in the fire to look at Grieg, "Hear that, Chesterfield? Yet another piece of muggle art for you to beautify in comparison to Granger's charms." He passed her revised dissertation back to her in a fire-proof sleeve.
"Never heard of 'er," Grieg shrugged, as Alec turned away from the fire once more. She could hear her mentor shouting at someone in the background which was not an unusual occurrence.
"Again, Philistines," she murmured to no one in particular, handing Grieg back his case-study in a fire-proofed sleeve as well with her notes written in the margins.
"Hey, that goes for Chesterfield, Granger. Not me," Alec spoke up, once more poking his head through the fire, "I know the story of Cassandra. She was the truth-sayer who spoke the truth each day to those who refused to listen, and whose ears were licked clean each night by snakes while she slept so she could hear the truth."
"Ten points to 'Ravenclaw', Mr. Derwinn," Severus grated dryly from the couch seat.
Startled, Hermione turned around.
Both Severus and Mr. Malfoy were seated on the couch and had been listening in, it seemed, for quite some time. Well, she could do nothing about it now as the meeting was almost concluded.
"Merlin, Snape! Give a guy a heart-attack why don't you?" Grieg said. "Seven years out of school, and you still scare the bloody hell out of me." Grieg looked back at her and smiled. "Caught me neckin' in the fourth floor conservatory, he did, Granger, m'love."
"Oh, really?" she asked distractedly as she thumbed through the suggested revisions to her dissertation Alec had made. There was a spot in the margins, and with his chicken-scratch writing, she couldn't tell if it was an ink-stain or a critique.
"Yes, a pitiful, groping attempt, as I recall, with all the grace of Devil's Snare going after its prey," Severus whispered acidly from behind her; his proximity caused her to look up and over her shoulder. He had moved until he was kneeling behind her, and Hermione could feel the warmth from his body as well as the heavy fabric of his robes brushing against her back.
However, he was staring—scowling—at the fire and at Grieg in particular.
Grieg smiled winningly, addressing her, "Granger, love, you should know, my technique has improved significantly since then."
"Doubtful, Mr. Chesterfield," Snape whispered silkily, in a tone reminiscent of his undamaged voice, "that is, unless you've learned how not to inflict your rather small and inadequate technique on the female of the species."
Hermione's eyebrows rose to her hairline, and Grieg's mouth actually opened to an 'O' of shock before he clamped down and looked at Severus like he could kill him. Oh, yes, if looks could kill, Severus Snape would be six feet deep.
She looked over her shoulder at Severus to find he had leaned forward a bit more and was actually quite near her left ear. His onyx eyes held a note of triumph.
"Ah, that Severus Snape, 'eh? Always good for a laugh," Alec said tightly beside Grieg, giving him a consoling pat on the shoulder.
Grieg narrowed his eyes and looked up at her, "Remind me, why it was you fought so hard to free this bastard, again?"
Trying to defuse the situation, she drew a deep, calming breath, and said in her most insufferably 'Know-It-All' voice, "Because 'everybody—"
"—deserves a defense," both Alec and Grieg finished with her, shaking their heads.
"Well on that note, gang, I'm going to sign off. Granger, get back to me with your corrections. We'll meet again, same time, same day next month." Alec waved goodbye to them all and was gone.
"Yeesh, Hermione." Grieg rubbed the back of his neck disregarding Severus still at her side entirely. "This good-will streak of yours is going to be the death of many an old fart on the Council. You know that, right? You'll have them pleadin' apoplexy just to avoid meeting with you."
She sighed and scrubbed at her eyes tiredly, "I know what I face, Grieg. Please, don't remind me." Drawn to Severus's nearness, she leaned back slightly, his proximity a balm of sorts.
"Miss Granger will be most equipped to handle the Council. I'll make certain of it… Mr. Chesterfield, was it?" Mr. Malfoy inquired from her other side, and Hermione turned her head and looked over at him.
"Merlin, 'Mi. You've got Malfoy Senior there too?" Grieg asked her in disbelief.
"Roommates," Hermione said thickly as she watched Mr. Malfoy kneel behind her right shoulder. "Harry and Ginny have been very gracious while I finish my degree and things get sorted by the Ministry for both Master Snape's and Mr. Malfoy's estates." She could feel Mr. Malfoy's presence behind her as well, his hand coming to rest upon her mid-back.
Her eyes widened.
"Talk about snakes whispering in your ears," Grieg mumbled, a note of jealousy in his voice.
Hermione paled. "It's not like that! Good God, Grieg!" she stated in disbelief.
"Yeah, 'Mi… uh-huh," he said, "Body language… I'm studying it, remember? The two huddled beside you say very differently; you just have to look at their expressions and proximity to you to see it."
She quickly looked to one to the other of the wizards beside her, who in turn looked down at her. Both had nearly identical blank expressions of cluelessness about them.
Turning back to Grieg, she shrugged and shook her head, mystified at what he saw.
Grieg suddenly startled, his shocked face disappearing from the floo. She heard his disembodied voice say, "Alright, that's it! They're both starting to freak me out... We'll begin groundwork for an appeal. I'll work with Alec on it and see you next month. Just… next time, leave your pet snakes out of it, alright?"
He disconnected the 'floo' before she could form a rebuttal.
"Was it something we said?" Mr. Malfoy asked her calmly, his hand still solicitously placed upon her back.
"No, Lucius," Severus whispered lowly beside her, his mouth still very close to her ear, "if you'll remember, Miss Granger's Greek counterpart Cassandra wasn't to be believed either, no matter what truths she would espouse. The puling whelp obviously didn't make the correlation."
"Obviously," Mr. Malfoy replied, and Hermione gulped, turning her head from the one to the other of them and feeling slightly trapped by their proximity. Mr. Malfoy looked over at her and smiled pleasantly, and the pressure of his hand at her back increased the slightest bit, but then he was rising from the floor, as was Severus, and as one, they both reached down to offer her their hands to aid her in rising as well.
After a moment's hesitation she took them, and they lifted her effortlessly to her feet.
"Well, it is of no matter, my dear," Mr. Malfoy continued, "we three know the truth of such things, do we not?"
"Even if the puling whelp thinks otherwise," Severus whispered.
Hermione took a step away from them feeling very much out of her depth and longing for the safety of her room.
Mr. Malfoy looked down at her and met her eyes, his stare inquiring, "Might I ask what you're doing your dissertation on, Miss Granger?"
"House-elf rights," she said a bit defensively.
Contrary to how she had expected him to react, Mr. Malfoy's eyes softened the slightest bit towards her. "As a former owner of them, I would very much like to read your argument and offer another point of view if I may?"
She bit her lip. "Actually, I would love to know what you think if you wouldn't mind? I mean, even if you do tear it apart; at least I'll be better prepared knowing what I'm facing, especially from those with opinions like yours."
He smiled softly, his pale blue eyes gleaming with approval. "Quite."
Again biting her lip, she handed him her dissertation and looked up at him uncertainly. She was giving him exactly what he wanted, a way to splay her open and eviscerate her, she knew, but it needed to be done. Knowing this man's worst could only serve to strengthen her argument more.
With a sigh of resignation, she turned and walked from the room.
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A/N: Slowly, yet slowly they are beguiling the little Gryffindor from her hiding place. A deft hand, the lightest of touches… both are realizing this is what's required.
What say you, reader? Are our two snakes becoming worthy of our Cassandra? Please leave a review and tell me what you think.
-k