ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND
Continued

Hermione sat for several seconds and then set the laptop on the trunk in front of the couch so she could make a cup of tea to calm her sudden nerves.

The soft tread of her socks led her into the well-lit confines of the kitchen. She paced between the refrigerator to the stove a few times, gathering a mug, honey, and a spoon. She drummed her fingers on the counter as she waited for the water in the pan to boil. She didn't use the teakettle at this hour. Her thoughts were racing through her head. If she passed the interviews and tests, whatever they were, then there was a chance she could find someone from her past...and maybe even find out what happened to the Weasleys.

Chamomile tea had always been a favourite of hers and she was grateful to Christie for buying her a small tin of it at the shop about a week ago. She readied the tea and added a bit of honey, then headed back to the living room. Blowing back the steam, Hermione cradled the cup with two hands and closed her eyes, leaning back against the couch cushions. There was no question of whether she could do this; she had no choice. Might as well get on with it, her inner-voice nudged her, and she took a deep breath.

After a small sip, she set the cup a safe distance from the laptop and clicked on the thread. A small window popped up with a short disclaimer which read: Working with the rebels directly could potentially put you and your family's lives in danger. Only continue if you accept the risk involved.

There was no hesitation as she clicked on the arrow to take her forward. A shimmering line of dots, indicating a loading window, replaced the statement and four minutes dragged by as the dots continued to fade in and out in a loop.

When she had reached the bottom of her cup and eaten almost all of her scone, the window went completely white, and then an exclamation point popped up on the bottom of the small window, indicating an incoming private message.

Ignoring the fact her hands were now weak and trembling, Hermione clicked on the minimized PM window and chewed on her bottom lip as the window opened to reveal an inquiry from Asphodel.

Asphodel: What tools and/or skills could you offer?

Hermione's brows raised a bit, but she didn't hesitate to reply in case they tired of waiting on her and moved on to someone else.

Melchisedec: Strategy and planning.

Thirty seconds passed in high anxiety for Hermione.

Asphodel: Is that all?

Panicking, thinking that she was about to lose this opportunity, Hermione typed in a rush.

Melchisedec: It's not much, but I honestly feel as though I would be an asset.

Asphodel: You're right, it's not much.

Hermione blinked a few times, her temper starting to rise. They didn't have to be so rude. She struggled to find the right words. What could she say to make them take an interest in her? She didn't even have a wand. She was barely an asset to herself at the moment.

Melchisedec: Wait, please.

Melchisedec: I realize this isn't the right way to go about this, but I am desperate to find The Order. I've just recently gotten on my feet. I spent years trying to make it to The Burrow, only to find it destroyed and abandoned a few months ago. I need to know if any of the Weasleys are alive. And, I want to help. Everyone seems to think I'm dead and I don't know how to contact anyone; I've been without my wand since the Last Battle and it seemed foolhardy to break in and use someone's floo. I don't know if the secret-kept houses are still safe or not.

Hermione waited for a reply, gnawing on her bottom lip in anxiety.

Asphodel: I feel a headache coming on.

Hermione snorted inelegantly through her nose and was about to reply, when another message popped up.

Asphodel: Dare I even ask? Who is this? If you're wasting my time, rest assured you'll be banned from the boards.

Hermione took a deep, steadying breath.

Melchisedec: Hermione Granger.

Melchisedec: Did you know me? I was captured and held prisoner with Harry Potter.

Typing Harry's name hurt. Hermione closed her eyes tightly for a moment. Thirty seconds passed, and then forty, and Hermione was about to say something else, anything, really, when the window closed.

Hermione stared, puzzled, then jumped up from the couch, dropping the laptop onto a cushion when someone started pounding on the front door. Each loud thump, thump, thump went right through her. She made it as far as the dark entry hall, but heavy anxiety was closing in on her, making her breathless and wooden. She fought it and took another step, but then Christie turned his bedroom light on and poked his head out of his doorframe, grinning cheekily at her.

He waggled his eyebrows. "Expectin' company, lass?"

Hermione shook her head minutely, a lump of stone-cold fear in her throat. She didn't know who Asphodel was, but she didn't have a good feeling about this at all.

Christie disappeared from his doorway and returned a few seconds later, shuffling into a robe, and headed straight for the entry. Hermione's knees knocked, but she stepped forward as best as she could, reaching out. "No, Christie! Don't—!"

Ignoring her, Christie swung the door open, then stepped back, in alarm or awe, it was hard to tell, backing away slowly.

At three in the morning, it was still very dark outside—the tall silhouette framed in the doorway was darker still. Hermione sludged forward, forcing her limbs to react. She felt like she was in a nightmare.

A hand reached out and pushed Christie back against the wall, and a harsh, raw voice accosted the room. "How dare you?"

The deep thrum of his familiar voice rolled over Hermione like a tidal wave and she stared at the scene before her in shock and disbelief. "No!" she cried, reaching them at last, and pulled at his arm, willing him to let up. "Let him go!"

The air crackled and popped around Hermione. Her eyes met with those of Professor Snape.

He took a faltering step back. "Miss-Miss Granger?" His eyes were wide and a little wild. He stared at her, and for the first time in her life, Hermione saw naked emotion on his face. His distress made her uneasy. He stepped back until the opposite wall met his back.

Breathing heavily, Hermione turned her back on her former professor and grabbed Christie's hand. "Are you all right, Christie?" Her hands were shaking, but she used them to smooth away the bangs from Christie's eyes. He was staring over her shoulder, and much to her consternation, a grin suddenly lit up his face. Christie glanced at her and winked.

Hermione shook her head, a rising flush staining her cheeks. She forced herself to turn around. Professor Snape was all broad shoulders and black—black everywhere. She closed her eyes; it hurt to look upon him. Asphodel. With a world-weary sigh, she sidestepped around the curious Christie and shut the front door.

Severus's shoulders went rigid and his face rose at once, and then, before her next breath, he was looming over her. "What the devil is going on here?" His voice was hoarse and even cracked a bit at the end. He cleared his throat and gazed at her, beseeching, unable or perhaps unwilling to look away.


Asphodel is a type of lily and means 'remembered beyond the tomb' or 'my regrets follow you to the grave.'