If Hermione had any hope that Severus's icy temperament would change on account of their previous evening, she found that prospect immediately crushed.
Snape had reverted to his dry, cold disposition. He had called on her for two prior evenings to reveal the progress of the Mopsus Potion and his naturally sour demeanor obscured any trace of consideration he might have given about their night surrounding the Vulnera Sanentur spell.
Any query from her had been met with the same vitriol that she would have encountered as his prior potions student. Hermione mused that some irritation stemmed when he could no longer take house points for her eagerness to question nearly every aspect of the Mopsus Potion brew.
"What will it take to end your incessant prattle, Miss Granger?" He stated after the second evening's inquisition of his methods. He pressed into his brow with his pale fingertips, hinting at the headache that was growing at his temple.
"At least you can't take points from Gryffindor." She quipped back bravely.
Snape paused at her unexpected snark. His dark eyes shifted hawkishly to hers as if he were poised to suggest one of several other penalties that resided in the dark recesses of his mind.
There was an almost imperceptible, disquieting expression on Snape's face when he responded. "No, Hermione," he said, his eyes calculating. "No, I can't." Severus returned silently to his work.
Hermione dropped any future questions that burned through her mind as he continued to add ingredients to the potion. She was not entirely sure what he thought when he responded to her house points comment, but she resolved not to pursue that conversation further. Instead, Hermione occupied her mind with creating a mental list of questions for her return to her book-filled chambers.
Close to midnight, Severus stirred the cauldron a final time until the swirling liquid inside turned an iridescent green. It vaguely reminded Hermione of an opal, the way the light scattered across its surface into glittering, enchanting eddies. Severus wafted the fragrance once, and unceremoniously flicked his wand below the cauldron to vanish the flames.
"It will be cooled overnight." He said as he sank into the headmaster's chair. He pushed a title-less dusty book toward her that Hermione instantly recognized as the source of the Mopsus Potion. "You are welcome to verify that this potion is indeed the one that matches this book's description." he said dismissively.
Snape seemed content that she did not take his immediate word for it. Hermione flicked to the page that contained the directions and read:
The finished potion will appear iridescent with a Caribbean-green sheen. It will smell lightly of damp earth and creosote.
Hermione wafted the potion just as Snape had. Indeed, it had an earthy smell that reminded her loosely of her parents' chimney. She nodded in agreement.
"Tomorrow is Saturday," he stated without the common sense of relief that comes with the end of a work week. "Meaning that my duties as headmaster are limited to emergent situations only."
His eyes dropped onto the headmaster desk, and her eyes followed his to the spot where several nights prior he had thrust his papers off it in the heat of a passionate throe. The sheets of parchment were now stacked precisely back in place. "Given no emergent situations," he spat, his lip curling, "expect to be called for this weekend." He pressed his thin lips together into a thin line. "I will give you one opportunity to try this potion for yourself."
His dark eyes fell on her. A silence passed between them, and Hermione was given the sense that those black eyes were challenging her to withdraw from his offer. Uncomfortably, she met his gaze.
"The sooner we find Harry, the sooner you'll return my wand, and I am free to leave." She responded quietly.
Severus sneered in response. "A most enthralling thought."
Hermione didn't let the sarcastic sharp bite of his tone concern her. "The excitement is shared." She keenly retorted back.
The hard lines at the corner of Severus's eyes deepened yet Hermione could have sworn that she saw a subtle pull at the corner of his lips.
"It is late, Granger," was his only reply. He stood, motioning a hand for her to rise for dismissal.
Hermione paused, ignoring his attempt to wave her out. "Have you ever tried this potion before?"
The headmaster looked irritated by her unexpected defiance.
"No," he frowned. "Until this point in my life, the risks of this potion have always outweighed whatever curiosities pulled at my mind." His piercing eyes lingered on hers as if he were considering her own motivation. "To willingly glimpse into the future is not for the weak-minded. There is no guarantee that you will have control over which aspects you see." Snape inhaled smoothly. "You may see your own death. You may see the death of your friends." Severus paused, allowing his words to resonate against the cold stone walls. "Afterwards you may spend the rest of your life attempting to change the inevitable course of the future, only to find that this potion has removed any illusion of free will that any of us believe we have."
Hermione froze in consideration. It was obvious that she had failed to consider any future scenarios outside of determining Harry's whereabouts.
Severus's eyes narrowed condescendingly at her realization.
"Consider what returning to Potter's side is worth to you, Granger," he purred contemptuously.
"What's he to you, then?" she challenged. The image of Dumbledore's funeral floated to the surface of her mind.
Snapes expression was unreadable. For an instant, Hermione feared that her rebuke had hit a nerve. He calculated his reply, his eyes as dark and deep as the Black Lake.
"No concern of yours." he said icily.
"Then I don't see why you should concern yourself with my friendship."
Severus sneered. His yellow teeth peeked from behind his thin lips, sharply replying. "How many times has that unprepared, arrogant boy coerced you into one of his ill-devised ventures? In fact, you are here now, disarmed, and vulnerable due to another witless venture to challenge Death Eaters that have double your experience and no hesitance to kill. How old are you? Seventeen?" He dropped his eyes down her form in ridicule. "Have you no sense of self-preservation, Granger? The Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate a second to remove you from his way to Potter, and yet you trail behind the fool in blind, senseless trust. Why is this friendship worth your life, Granger," he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow. "And have you ever asked yourself that in your own incessant, aggravating voice?"
Hermione sat speechless in the wake of his insulting query. Severus's piercing gaze drove through her like a pick through ice, challenging her to defend herself.
"If-if nobody stands against You-Know-Who," stammered Hermione, "then surely there will be no future for muggle-borns like me."
Severus leaned forward, his greasy hair hanging over his face in a black curtain. "And surely the most magically accomplished wizard of all time will meet his match against teenage Harry and his fellow seventh year dropouts." He shook his head smoothly. "Granger." He tsked her name.
Hermione furrowed her brow in defiance. Severus was cunning, but despite the cruel undertones he raised a worrisome concern of hers that they were significantly outmatched.
Hermione was aware that they would be fighting adults. She knew that some were even willing to kill her. "I don't have to defend my decision to help Harry to anyone, especially not a –" she paused, searching for the word.
"-Death Eater." He finished her sentence smoothly. "I am a Death Eater."
Hermione swallowed. It was unnerving how coolly he prompted her.
"Death Eater." she affirmed.
"Blind loyalty does not suit you, Granger." He muttered, his pale fingers tracing the lip of his black desk. "You negotiated with a Death Eater to return to Potter's side-" he spat the name. "-without knowing my motivations. So not only are you willing to sacrifice yourself in pursuit of the boy's affairs, but this time you invited a Death Eater to follow alongside in trail."
"You seized my wand – In the middle of a wizarding war against muggleborns." She emphasized.
Severus raised his eyebrow. "And there we have our first true admission of self-preservation. Granger, some reflection, please." He returned to the headmaster's chair and pressed his fingertips together. "I do not think that you are motivated to return as Potter's faithful sidekick. I think that you are motivated by this –" he pulled out her vine wood wand. "Potter is the antithesis of the Dark Lord's ideologies, and you are drawn to the people and objects that align with your sense of self-preservation. I am not daft enough to confuse a woman who is clearly fighting a war for her own benefit for unfettered Gryffindor courage and deceptively ardent loyalty. The question is whether you will continue lying to yourself about it or not."
Hermione glared into the deep recess of his unblinking apertures. He continued to play with her wand tauntingly as though urging her to refute him.
"So, Miss Granger. What does locating and reconnecting with Potter truly mean for you? Is it the return of your magic and the drive to defeat the oppressive dark witches and wizards that seek your expulsion or imprisonment from the magical world? Or shall we continue the facade that a friendship to Potter knows no limits?"
"So, what is your point, then?" she asked angrily.
Snape smirked, satisfied that he had finally struck a nerve.
"I would never believe that you could willingly endanger yourself, or Potter, unless there was an ulterior motive." He twisted her wand around in his long fingers before pocketing it into the depths of his flowing robes. "And that motive turns out to be any threat to your magic."
Hermione stood silent.
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. "And perhaps that is why you threatened me with the Sword of Gryffindor, Miss Granger." Snape's tone was nonchalant, but his expression hinted at a peculiar resentment.
Hermine refused to be rattled by the pressure his statement put on her.
"What made you bring that sword?" she pushed back. "It seemed a bit excessive for an ingredient procurement."
Snape's eyes glinted and a self-content sneer twisted at the sides of his mouth. "Also, no concern of yours."
"Well, neither is my friendship with Harry to you." She retorted.
He shrugged, appearing to be indifferent to her irritation. He pressed into the back of his chair.
"I will send for you this weekend," he ran his fingertips once more against the smooth surface of his sable desk. "I expect that we will have our answers by the end of it."
Hermione watched his thin fingers stroke smooth lines across the desk's surface. "Then it is up to me to bring him to the Forest of Dean." She stated hesitantly.
Severus nodded expectantly. "Have you given any thought to how you might reunite with Potter?"
"I have. I have one idea in mind," she started. "But it depends on what the Mopsus Potion reveals, I guess."
"Ah." Severus sat thoughtfully for a second. "Let us hope it works then." He rose and threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the headmaster fireplace. "In the meanwhile," he spoke to her, "Do give me one moment of rest this evening."
~o~O~o~
Hermione spent all of Saturday and most of her Sunday locked away in the Potion Master's quarters, skimming over Snapes old books. She was half disappointed not to be called on Saturday, but she soon found comfort amongst his collection of soft pillows, chunky blankets and a bottomless tea kettle of her favorite black tea.
On Sunday afternoon, she was awoken from a nap when a silky voice called from the fireplace.
"Miss Granger. Through the fire, please."
Hermione instantly recognized the voice as Snape's, and peered into the emerald green flames. When she stepped through, she was surprised to find that she emerged not in the familiar Headmaster's office, but back at the Forest's quaint cottage. It was just as she had remembered. The old furniture sat neatly in place, no sign of life other than the tall, thin form that inhabited the dark flowing robes of Severus Snape.
Severus threw a large log onto the crackling fire and sat on a soft chair facing the orange flames. He pointed to the chair next to him, signaling for Hermione to take a seat.
Hermione dutifully obeyed, lowering herself onto the worn fabric of the cottage chair.
Without looking at her, he pulled two vials of potion from his deep robes and quietly handed her one. Hermione noted the same iridescent shade of green that she saw the other night.
"How long does it last?" she questioned.
Snape sat with his eyes on the fire. His face was inscrutable. Without looking round to Hermione, he finally spoke.
"I have no idea." he said stonily.
He swirled the vital gently in one hand, and then popped the cork off with his thumb. Hermione followed suit.
"Cheers." he said emotionlessly. He downed his vials contents in a single swallow, and she hesitantly did the same.
They spent several minutes in silence. But gradually, her peripheral vision narrowed to the firelight as the gentle first tugs of the potion pulled her inward. Soft waves of happiness rippled through Hermione; she noted that the initial effects were rather enjoyable. Inside the fire she saw images of the trio, reunited, laughing, and eating around a rickety table. They were gathered around a radio, smiling as a snowstorm passed over their tent. The images were brief and fleeted from her vision almost as quickly as she saw them but seeing the three of them together filled her heart with positive reassurances. The three of them continued to laugh through a morphing vision, but their faces aged, and Harry's scar seemed more faded. Hermione noticed that the harder she stared into the fire the slower the illusions formed.
The flashes of images continued. Some had context, but many did not. She saw the faces of her parents, aged and smiling, then glimpses of unknown forms from a distant future.
She looked over to Snape, who was watching the fire intently. She wondered briefly if they would see the same images – the same future – so she trailed her eyes to where Severus stared into the fire. Her visions became darker, shifting into a shared perspective of an entangled future.
Professor McGonagall shoved Harry aside and pointed her wand directly at Snape. Severus dug his pale fingers into his plush chair as he watched the illusion of himself fighting the Transfiguration professor. The image twisted into itself as a new scenario took form. A battle was being waged at Hogwarts. Death Eaters emerged from chaotic hallways and Hermione caught glimpses of Order members deflecting spells. A furious Molly Weasley yelled into a void of flames, exploding an unclear form into a loud pop from the fireplace.
Voldemort stood pensively in the Shrieking Shack, his snake-like eyes peering ominously into Snape's. "You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus..." a hiss from the fire whispered.
An image startled Snape, forcing him to his feet and knocking the plush chair back from the fireplace. He continued to stare wildly into the burning chasm, his dark black wand gripped as if his life depended on it.
Hermione, desperate to see what had startled the new headmaster, followed his gaze once again to the flames. Together they watched a sobbing Hagrid march with a limp form in his arms – Hermione froze, a heaviness crushing against her chest. Was that the form of Harry Potter? Hermione was certain that Snape had seen the same, but judging by his reaction, it did not appear to be the vision that most rattled him. Hermione furrowed her brow, returning her gaze to the fire.
Hermione wondered how she could see a vision of Harry's face as an adult and yet see his limp body within the same future. She desperately tried to follow the image into any sort of context but only shadows and wisps of smoke emerged from the flames.
For over an hour, Hemione's hallucinations continued. Snape sat in meditative silence, observing her as if his own visions had come to an end. Her wild and messy hair glowed in the light of the hot fire; her honey brown eyes focused on the dancing licks emitted by a burning log. She studied the flames as intently as a N.E.W.T. level exam with a concentrated fervor locked to one spot. In this moment of vulnerability, Snape eyed Hermione's enraptured form, from the soft curve of her neck down to the slim cut of her ankles. To his relief, her attention never drifted to his penetrating gaze.
He sat in contemplation. He wondered if she would also see his death, and if so, what would that future reveal about him? Or would his secrets die with him, in a bleak future that ended as abruptly for Harry as it did for him? The potion revealed no images beyond his own death, he realized, but for her, the future appeared long and enchanting. Were he to use legillimency on her, he thought, perhaps he could find solace in knowing of a life beyond his own.
When Hermione's attention finally wavered from the fire, Severus conjured a glass of water for her. She downed it as rapidly as it had appeared, and held the empty glass in deep deliberation.
"Severus," she said softly, not meeting his gaze. "Do you think that any part of that future won't happen?"
"I think that any attempt of changing this future is already reflected by your visions," he replied cooly. "And the very act of observing it was due course for an already predetermined future."
"I don't understand," she said shaking her head. "I saw Harry both dead and alive. How can such an outcome be possible in one future? What do I do?"
"Malfoy." he said despondently, looking down at his wand. "Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore." He peered somberly back to Hermione. "You must ensure that Harry takes Malfoy's wand."
"Sir?" Hermione asked.
"You must allow yourselves to be captured again," he said simply. "And Harry must forcefully part Malfoy from his wand. That is all I know."
Hermione's mind flashed to a vision of an enraged Bellatrix, her wand tip at her face, and an excruciating pain that followed the unrealized memory. Hermione shivered.
"Why does that matter?"
Severus did not respond.
"And the Sword..." She posited.
"Will present itself to Potter when the time is right." He snapped impatiently. "We have both seen that."
"The images were fast, without context. I can't possibly make sense of everything I've seen, Severus."
He arched back into the worn fabric of the armchair. He looked relaxed but she couldn't help but sense a quality of uneasiness by the tightening of his shoulders. "And what did you see, Hermione?" He spoke quietly. His penetrating gaze met hers, and Hermione was sure that look threatened legillimency had she not answered.
"I saw – I saw myself reunited with Harry and Ron. Harry jumped into a lake for the Sword but it's unclear why. I saw Malfoy Manor, Gringotts, and the old Potter's house. The snake attacked someone – I think Harry – but it was dark so I'm not confident it was him."
Severus's face was inscrutable, but his eyes narrowed with a burning intensity. "What else?"
"Then the vision changed to Hogwarts, and there was a battle. You fought Professor McGonagall." She alleged. He listened in silence, allowing her to continue. "Then the fighting stopped. Harry went to the forest- " she paused, concentrating. "-and his body was carried back by Hagrid." She shook her head again.
"But after that I saw them alive. Years later. Older and at King's Cross. We had families and children and jobs- " She bit her lip. "That's all I can remember. But I know where he is- Or will be – I think I know how to send them a message."
"Oh?" he pried smoothly.
"They overhear a conversation between Ted, Dirk Cresswell, Dean Thomas, and the Goblins Griphook and Gornuk." She said excitedly. "Cresswell is standing trial as a muggleborn for stealing magic. If Cresswell escapes transport to Azkaban, I could follow him discretely to Harry and Ron's nearby camp!"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "If Yaxley is weak-minded enough to brag about his inner workings of the Ministry. However, you're suggesting that we interfere with Ministry transport of a known muggle-born to Azkaban."
"We would save an innocent man from unwarranted imprisonment!"
"I see." he said skeptically.
The two of them sat watching the glow of the fire for a long time, neither of them speaking. The fire danced harmlessly within its stone confines of the cottage fireplace, no more images than what transpired hours before.