Chapter 17: Face to Face
As evening approached, Hermione grew more and more anxious about meeting Severus. She could sneak out after her parents went to bed at ten, she supposed, but then they would worry if they woke up and came to check on her. Normally she wouldn't worry about it, but she had still been awake when her mother had tiptoed in to check on her the previous night. She wondered if it was because of the war and what happened to Dumbledore or if her mother had always checked on her during school breaks. She didn't remember it happening before.
If she told them she was going out, they would worry most of the night, but at least then her mother wouldn't freak out if she checked in and Hermione simply wasn't there. Telling them the honest truth would certainly not do. Strangely enough, she didn't think things would go over well if she waltzed in and said, "Mum, hope you don't mind but I'm going to see my husband tonight. He recently murdered the Headmaster, but it's okay because I think he might have a justifiable reason, maybe, and I'm sure he won't hurt me."
She decided to split the difference between truth and lies. She walked into the kitchen when she heard her mother's car pull into the drive and found her bringing in bags of groceries. "Can I help you with that?"
"That would be great, honey. There are several more out there. I bought pork chops for dinner tonight, I know how much you like them." Her mum blew at an errant curl dangling by her eye.
Smiling, Hermione reached out and tucked the lock of hair behind her mum's ear, then headed to the car for some bags. There were only a few left, and her mum brought the last two in behind her. As Hermione began unloading fresh vegetables into the crisper, she wondered how to focus the conversation. Suddenly, there was a tap at the window, and Hermione turned to see the familiar sight of Viktor Krum's spotted owl. She hadn't written back to the Bulgarian Seeker since his letter a couple weeks before. With term finals coming up and everything that had happened at Hogwarts, she hadn't even thought about writing him.
She opened the window and let the owl in. "Hey there Sparticus, I'm sure we've got something here you'd like." Hermione detached the letter from the owl's leg and reached for the ever-present bowl of owl snacks her parents kept handy for when she sent notes to them.
The owl took the treat, then hopped back to the windowsill and with a flap of his wings, soared out into the evening air. Hermione stuck the letter in her back pocket and helped put away the groceries, then took a moment at her mum's behest to look the letter over. He opened with his regrets and concerns about the events that had recently overtaken Hogwarts and his best wishes for her health and safety. Hermione smiled when she saw the Viktor was planning a visit to England later that summer. She laughed over a story he told about a recent Quidditch match, then rolled the note up again, making a mental note to write him back soon.
"That Viktor sure has been persistent."
Surprised by the words, Hermione turned to her mother. "What do you mean?"
"I didn't expect him to still be writing you two years after the tournament, not with all those women you say flock around him.' Her mother's eyes twinkled teasingly.
Hermione tried to decide what to say in response to her mother's insinuations. "Viktor and I have only ever been friends, and that's not about to change. He doesn't see me like that anymore." She pursed her lips and felt her brow furrow. "I'm not really sure he ever felt that way in the first place, though I suppose there must have been some youthful infatuation. Anyway, I just heard from another friend who is going through a rough time and needs someone to talk to tonight. I really need to go. I promise I'll be perfectly safe."
The disappointment in her mother's eyes was almost too much for Hermione to bear. "Honey, I thought you would be here tonight. I was counting on it. We hardly ever see you anymore. And I'm making one of your favorite dinners."
Grabbing the closest knife, Hermione began cutting florets off the bunch of broccoli her mother had just washed. "I'm sorry, I'm planning on staying here until nine or so, then I can pop over for the night. We'll have dinner and a nice talk first. And now I've got my Apparition license I can come visit regularly. I know the visit's been much shorter than either of us would like, but I have responsibilities I need to take care of."
She heard her mother open the freezer door, move stuff around, and close the door again. "I just worry about you. I feel like you belong to a world completely removed from the one we live in; one that has so many dangers that I didn't understand when you first started at that school. How thick is your file at the hospital wing by now, half a foot?"
Hermione chuckled despite herself. Being the best friend to the future savior of the wizarding world had come with a significant amount of danger. She touched her thumb to the inside of her wedding band, reflecting that not all of the danger had come from her friends. "It's not quite that bad, but there are a few pages in there. Minor accidents are common enough though, even in the Muggle world."
"Yes, but how many of your primary school friends have been petrified by a giant snake or had to have their teeth shrunk after a spell made them grow as big as elephant tusks?"
"They were only walrus length," Hermione demurred, then laughed lightly and switched from broccoli to cauliflower. "Point taken. But those injuries are comparatively minor in our world. Quickly repaired."
"Not so quickly, you spent months as a statue."
"Er, right." Hermione decided it was definitely time for a change of subject before her mum mentioned the month or so she spent in the body of a cat. "So anyway, I promise to come back regularly this summer, but after everything that's happened, my friend really needs to talk about some things."
"Your friend, huh? A roommate?" Her mother's raised brows showed she didn't buy it for a second.
Hermione turned away to pull some carrots from the icebox. She could feel a hum of lust running through her that was not her own. "Yeah, we've roomed together." As much as you can call the few nights we've snatched here and there since we were married. How I hate keeping it all a secret from you, Mum. Then again, how could I possibly explain something I don't completely understand myself?
"Didn't you see her yesterday?"
"Things have been happening too quickly to—" Hermione stopped when she saw the twinkle in her mother's eye.
"I'll let you be and you be careful when you visit what's-his-name, your sort of roommate. These are adult decisions you are making now, Hermione, and I don't want you to make any mistakes. You are an adult in your world, and very nearly one in mine. Just be careful and take precautions. I remember what it was like to be young and in love. It's not Ron Weasley, is it?"
"No, Mum, it's not, my friend is, well, hmmm." She ran her left thumb over the inside of her invisible wedding band. My soul mate, my husband, that deeply horrible person who killed the Headmaster, twenty years my senior, very good at the dark arts and an accomplished liar. What was she supposed to say, anyway? Her mother may accept the first descriptor as a bit of adolescent dramatics, but it would certainly lead to more questions, and the other descriptors would probably send her mum into cardiac arrest. Besides, her mother's calm acceptance of her possible sex life surprised Hermione. Her parents had been fairly open on the subject over the past few years, but there had still been plenty of discouragement on their parts to indicate they felt she should stay chaste.
"Do you love him?"
"Yes." To my possible ruin.
"That's what I thought. Now, let's get dinner started."
*****
Hermione's hands were slightly damp when she walked into the motel parking lot a few hours later. He had sent the room number through her diary, so she walked over and lifted her hand to knock on number 145. She could feel Severus's presence humming through the door, his anticipation, anxiety and desire curling around her. Before her knuckles touched the door, it opened. The person opposite her didn't look anything like Severus Snape, but she could tell that it was him through the bond.
He opened the door completely and motioned for her to come in. Hermione stepped forward, but the second she was through the doorway he shut it behind her and blocked her between himself and the door. A murmured ward, a Silencing Charm and another to end his glamour, then he addressed her as himself. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to come." He swooped down and took possession of her lips.
The need churning through her was blistering as his lips slid across hers and attacked her neck while his hands slid up her arms, shoulders and into her hair. His lips returned to hers and she opened to him, acting on sheer emotion. As his fingers threaded deeper into her hair, she pulled back. "Wait, we need to talk," she protested.
"In a minute," he rasped and his mouth was on hers again. Her whole body thrummed and she lost herself in the kiss.
Hermione didn't come to her senses until his hands were on the skin of her waist, beneath her blouse and he had maneuvered her half way across the room to the bed. She pushed back again. "Wait. Stop. We have to talk. Really." They both panted as he put a few inches between them, though he didn't relinquish his hold on her waist.
His forehead touched hers as they both tried to regain control. He growled and let out a shuddering breath. "I really don't want to stop."
"Me neither," she admitted. It would do no good to lie; he could see through it easily enough.
"Then remind me why we're stopping."
"We have to. There's too much to talk about, and I don't want to go there with you again until I understand."
They stood there for a long moment, their breathing slowing to nearly normal and the overpowering desire thrumming through their link settling down to a low roar. Finally, he pulled his hands away, allowing her to straightened her shirt, walk to a nearby chair, intentionally avoiding the bed.
He sat across the aisle from her on the edge of the bed, his knee only inches from hers. Severus had drawn his eyebrows together, a scowl evident on his face, as if it was costing him a great deal of self control. "What is it you want to know?"
Hermione clasped her hands around her knee and willed her voice to be calm. "We can start with what shaped you to be the kind of man who would think following the Dark Lord sounded like a Really Good Idea."
He shook his head in disbelief, but she didn't feel the anger in him that she had expected, only resignation. "You don't want much, do you?"
"Only the world. I wouldn't pry, but given your actions this week, I have to know. I have to understand how you could justify your actions. It's the only way I can trust you again."
"How do you know I'll tell you the truth?" His eyes peered into hers.
She considered him for a moment. "You can tell when I'm splitting hairs. I think I've learned something about you as well. That doesn't mean I won't get any half truths, but I suppose I'll have to trust you a little. What will our marriage be if I can't trust you at all?"
He frowned. "What kind of marriage is it now when we only see each other every few days and can't admit to anyone that it exists? If it wasn't for this," he lifted his hands, tapping his wedding ring, "I would often wonder if it wasn't all some cruel joke."
"Cruel that you could be stuck with me?" Though she felt she wasn't overly given to dramatics, Hermione had to know what he thought.
"Cruel as in something that can be taken away with nothing more that a word, or rather, two words. I realize it's actually the potion that draws us ever nearer, and I sometimes wish it could have been your choice. You are young and ought to be living carefree, but you are instead stuck in this sham of a marriage in the midst of war."
His point was valid. What kind of marriage was it? What did she want it to be? Did she even know? She rubbed her thumb over her wedding band. "How can I know what I want, what we might someday have, if you won't let me know who you really are?"
"I will die before this war is over, Hermione. If not, I'll spend what is left of my hideous life in Azkaban, and we will both slowly wilt away and teeter into madness from separation. There is nothing for us. We were a lost cause before we even began."
"I find your sunny outlook overwhelming."
He smiled wanly. "You said you wanted honesty. Here you go."
Severus spent the next two hours talking about his childhood, the abuse, the neglect, his friendless years at Hogwarts and the continued mistreatment from fellow students. He detailed the smooth way he was befriended by a Death Eater and his desperation for recognition, for validation. And then when Voldemort met him, the man was so flattering, charming and welcoming that Severus hadn't seen the truth until it was too late.
He talked of taking the mark and the slow spiral as things fell apart, and as he saw what was really going on around him, how he was asked to do things that were progressively more depraved and disturbing. The things he had been asked to do hadn't bothered Severus at first, as they had seemed fairly innocuous. He was so flattered that the leader of the Death Eaters seemed interested in him, and found Severus' spell and potions work fresh and exciting. And when Lord Voldemort found out about Severus returning home and poisoning his father to avenge his mother's death, the man had laughed and congratulated him on taking revenge on the man who had tormented him, just as the former Tom Riddle had done himself. It had cemented his position in the Dark Lord's ranks.
"Then I reported the prophecy to the Dark Lord and the Potters were killed. I hadn't planned on that, on causing it." By now he had removed the heavy outer jacket and vest he had worn when he answered the door and was left in only his shirtsleeves, an informality Hermione was starting to think he only allowed himself when he was alone with her.
She thought he was sincere, though the myriad emotions running through both of them confused her and made it impossible to be certain. She wanted to understand him, to believe, but some things didn't add up. "But you hated James Potter, Remus even talked about how much you loathed him. Why would that matter to you? You already admitted to having killed people. What was it about these two deaths that mattered so much?"
"I hated James Potter, yes. But by this time I was growing disillusioned by the Dark Lord's promises. He was growing erratic, punishing people when they made the smallest infraction and his purported cause was not what he was really fighting for. I was starting to wonder what I was fighting for. No matter what the younger Potter told you about a memory of mine he saw in the Pensieve, I didn't hate Lily. I always felt a little badly about the way I treated her because she was one of the few people who treated me decently."
Hermione tried to figure out what he was referring to, tipping her head to the side. "What are you talking about? What scene in the Pensieve?"
Severus looked surprised, then wary, then surprised again. "He didn't tell you why I refused to give him any more lessons last year? Why I kicked him out? He said he wouldn't but I didn't believe it."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione internally berated Harry for glossing over the truth with a lie. Not that she should be surprised, if she had infuriated Severus, she would probably make up some excuse not to have to go back too. "He told us you thought he was doing fine on his own and didn't need any more lessons."
"Figures. So you don't know about the scene he saw of his father humiliating me in front of the whole school and Lily defending me?"
Hermione blinked, so that was what happened. Now she wanted to know something about the scene Harry had only alluded to. "No. Well, he indicated that his father and Sirius treated you badly, humiliated you for no good reason. It disturbed him, really. He even Floo called to headquarters to ask about the memory, though he never explained what happened. He wanted an accounting from Sirius and Remus for their behavior. For his father's behavior. I know that much from what I overheard. I got the feeling he wasn't very satisfied with the results." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Now, tell me about this memory."
She sensed his confusion, but there was no hesitation in his answer. "Not a chance. There are some things that are too painful to recall, even to someone we trust."
Hermione ignored how sore she was from sitting so long while they spoke. "Are you saying you trust me?"
"I have to trust someone. I brought you here, didn't I? Took the chance you wouldn't bring the Aurors down on my head." He took her hand in his, turned it over and rubbed his thumb across her palm, sending shivers down her back. "That's a very rare thing, Hermione."
She considered his words for a long moment, then decided he was right. The Severus Snape she knew didn't trust anyone, and in his current position, he couldn't afford to be wrong about someone. "So you went to the Headmaster after the Potters were killed?"
"Before. When I learned they became targets it was the last straw, but that was before they were attacked. I warned him to hide the family that night. As you said, the Headmaster wouldn't have believed me solely on my feelings about the Potters. He was well aware of my animosity toward James. No, the reason he trusted me was because my vow to Narcissa wasn't the first I ever took. Back before the Potters were attacked, several months before that night, actually, I came to the Headmaster's office to confess my role among the Death Eaters and to warn him to keep the Potters safe."
He detailed his experiences that night. He had expected nothing better than Azkaban. After all, Dumbledore was the man who had made him keep silent after Sirius had sent him to what would have been certain death at Remus's claws and teeth. Severus had never received fair treatment by anyone, and he hadn't expected this to change.
To his surprise the Headmaster hadn't immediately restrained Severus and called in the Aurors when Severus reveled that he was a Death Eater. Instead he had continued to sit quietly, occasionally asking questions for clarification, but never giving his thoughts away. Knowing that he would have to repeat everything he said to the Aurors, Severus had tried to provide as much information on the Dark Lord's movements and whereabouts as he could while implicating himself as little as possible—not that he ever expected to survive Azkaban.
He described his surprise when Dumbledore offered him a way out. A trade, for his own protection.
"I didn't believe it at first. This man had allowed the Marauders to get away with only a slap on the wrist after I was nearly killed, but he was willing to give me a chance—if it suited his needs. It wasn't a very palatable opportunity; spying is the kind of work that is far more likely to bring about torture and death than exoneration. But then, a lifetime in Azkaban was far from tempting."
"And so you became a spy," Hermione said in a low whisper. She was trying to take it all in, to process her emotions, his. To figure out how much truth he was feeding her, and how much of it was hedging. There was some hedging, she knew that. There were some pieces missing from his story, though she was sure the things he had said were, if not the whole truth, at least a credible variation of the truth.
"And so I became a spy, but as I said, the Headmaster didn't take me on my word that I wanted to be on his side. He required an Unbreakable Vow from me that I would support his cause, follow his orders, and spend my life working to defeat the Dark Lord."
"Then how was it you could kill him?" Hermione watched Severus flinch when she said the word 'kill.'
"I was ordered to do so. He told me I would have to kill him if there was no way around it. When I came to him with the news of my vow to Narcissa, Albus told me I must follow through if Draco didn't succeed. He said my intelligence of what was happening in the Dark Lord's camp was too valuable, and despite all my efforts to put a stopper in death, he was already dying."
Hermione sucked in a surprised breath at that pronouncement. Then she listened as he explained the effects of the curse that had caused the withering of Dumbledore's hand, and how the disease was slowly spreading, and his own efforts to keep the Order's leader alive.
When he finished, they both sat in silence for a long moment. Hermione could tell he was giving her time to absorb his words. It all made a certain amount of sense, and she could feel his sincere anguish and loss over Dumbledore's demise, yet she still felt a slight hedging in him. The question was whether to trust him and go with the explanation, which part of her screamed for her to do, or whether to prod a bit more and see what else was hiding. The lusty, potion-driven part of her said there had already been too much talk, but she pushed that away and looked into the blank mask that was his face. "What aren't you telling me?"
There was no change in expression. "I've told you everything I can, Hermione. Everything you need to know. I'd show you a Pensieve of the memories, but I don't happen to have one on me." His voice was a bit acerbic, his hands clenched at his side.
Everything he can, everything I need to know. So why the deception? What are you hiding in there, Severus? She stood and walked to the far wall where a painting of a fawn in a forest clearing hung over a long, dark bureau. The irrelevant thought that fawns never hung out in clearings alone like that, in danger's path, crossed her mind. Then Hermione pushed it aside. How far do I trust him? Do I trust him? What he's told me is true, I think, but what about the things he's holding back? I have no reason to fear him for myself. That one thing was certain. He was no threat to her. The question was whether he was a threat to anyone else she knew and loved, to the cause she had embraced so completely.
When she sensed his deepening worry, she turned back to him. His face was as impassive as ever, but his emotions were clear and his concern wasn't for his own life if he didn't succeed in convincing her. It wasn't all about his need to satisfy the enchantment, though there was a definite need tugging at both of them. It was a need to be believed. Simply to be trusted at his word. Though she wasn't sure how far that trust extended, she decided to give him what she could.
"Where are your loyalties, Severus?"
"I want the Dark Lord gone forever. I want a lifetime with you without his enslavement. His promises are nothing but dust, the future of the wizarding world with him in charge is one of slavery and despair for us all."
There was nothing but truth in his words, and though they were limited in scope, she decided to take what she could for now. She walked over to stand before him, then took his hand in her own. "I believe you."
He tugged on her arm, pulling her down into his lap and buried his face in her hair. Hermione felt his relief and a tiny tingle of something else from him, something that felt suspiciously like joy.
Chapter 18: Settling in at the Dursleys
When Hermione popped over to the Weasleys' after leaving her husband's arms the next morning, she felt refreshed and reassured. There was still a lot of ground to cover between Severus and herself, but the hours they had spent talking the previous night, along with their other activities, made her hope they would work things out in the end.
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said when she was allowed inside.
"Hello, Hermione, dear. Have you eaten this morning?"
"Yes, thank you." Hermione remembered her intimate breakfast in bed that morning and had to hold back a grin. "How is everyone today?"
"We're all well. I haven't spoken with Ron since he and Harry headed to the Dursleys'. Can you have him contact me to let me know all is well when you see them today?"
"I'd be happy to. I suppose the twins are working now." She didn't bother to stop her smirk this time.
"Yes, though they didn't spend the night. They seemed to think they better get out of your reach before you decided you let them off too easily." Mrs. Weasley gave her a speculative look. "No one could get them to say why they earned your wrath. Even Charlie couldn't get it out of them, and they usually tell him everything."
"I don't expect that will last too long, unfortunately."
Mrs. Weasley smiled back. "I hope not, the suspense will kill me. Now, Arthur left you the tent for your stay at the Dursleys', and I packed up some food, since I'm sure those people won't feed you properly."
"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Weasley."
"Not at all. You and Harry are as much a part of the family as Ron. Let me know if you need anything else, and do come to dinner sometime early next week so we can see you."
Hermione smiled, knowing that would play right into Ginny's hands. She wondered if it had been Ginny's suggestion in the first place. "I'll let you know which night and bring the boys along. I'm afraid my own culinary skills are nowhere near your own. And then there's the boys. Harry and Ron can peel potatoes fine, I suppose. I'm not sure I trust them much beyond that."
Laughing, Mrs. Weasley handed Hermione a book, The Witch's Guide to Complete Home Maintenance and Cooking. "You can take this."
"Thanks, that will come in handy." Hermione grinned up at the woman who was very nearly as dear to her as her own mother. "I'd best get going. There's plenty to do yet today."
"Don't forget to write soon."
"We won't." Hermione hefted the tent bag and box of food in her arms and let Mrs. Weasley open the door for her. In a moment she appeared in the Dursleys' back yard.
"What was that?" Petunia Dursley called only a second after the crack of Apparition.
Hermione set her things on the grass and walked up to the door, where Petunia was standing.
"Oh, it's you." Petunia's long, horsey face looked even more sour when she recognized Hermione than she had before—if that was possible. "Look, we told you there isn't room for you to stay here."
"Problem solved. I've brought a tent. Your back yard is plenty large enough for me to move it every few days so it won't hurt your grass. It isn't a very large tent anyway, and Harry and Ron can spend most of their time outside with me, so they won't be under foot. I'd even be happy to help take care of the back yard, to make things easier for you." Now that she had gotten her way, Hermione figured it would be easier to make things as painless as possible for her 'hosts'. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try. Weeding under cover of darkness, using her wand, of course, would take no time at all.
"This will be a normal tent, won't it? Not some freaky looking thing that will draw the neighbors' attention." Petunia's eyes glittered with suspicion.
"It's a wizarding tent, but it looks mundane enough from the outside. I'll set up some charms that will make any nosey neighbors forget their interest in it. I promise it won't draw more than the slightest attention." Hermione knew it was awful of her to take that snippy tone, but she really had no patience for the woman and her ridiculous behavior.
Petunia sniffed. "And I suppose you expect me to feed you."
"No, of course not. Ron's mum has sent some food; we can buy groceries, and we'll get take out the rest of the time. We won't be a bother, I assure you."
"Just having you here is a bother. I assure you."
Not having the patience to deal with the irritating woman, Hermione stepped up and, since Petunia so kindly hurried back, as though Hermione were her personal boggart, she entered the sterile-looking home. "Could you get Harry for me? I'd appreciate it."
The woman looked horrified and insulted: first Hermione sullies her spotless house, then she orders her around. "Harry, get in here, now!"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." His voice floated from somewhere near the front of the house, and a moment later Hermione saw him round the hallway as he came to join them. "Hermione, right on time." He smiled at her, though she could tell he was still struggling with Dumbledore's death, as they all were. She pulled him into a hug and squeezed him tight.
"We have some figuring to do, don't we?" She pulled back and looked over him. His clothes were old and ill-fitting; he looked tired as though he hadn't slept well and she wondered if the clothes were wrinkled because he had pulled them from the floor or because he had slept in them. It had only been two days.
"Yeah, too much. Ron's upstairs still."
"You don't mind if I go on up to Harry's room so we can make plans, do you? Thanks." Hermione gave Petunia no opportunity to respond before pushing Harry back toward the stairs.
He led her to his room, looking a bit embarrassed at the mess. It looked as though he and Ron had dumped the contents of their shared trunk and hadn't bothered to organize it since they arrived. At least there were no dirty clothes on the floor, she told herself. She didn't want to see boxers lying around. Or whatever else they may wear. She would have nightmares of Fred and George in their skivvies as it was. The rest she could deal with. She pulled the wand from her back pocket, and a wink later everything was in apple-pie order.
"How did you do that with Petunia? She didn't even protest," Harry asked, a bit bemused. "Dumbledore did a smashing job of railroading them last summer, but he was so blatantly magic."
"Acting as though I have a right to dictate to her was the key. Though, I did my best to be conciliatory. That she was probably frightened of what I could do to her surely didn't hurt." The sound of running water came from the room across the hall and a moment later Ron emerged.
"Hey, Hermione. Made it, did you?"
"Yeah, can I get you two to help me with the tent Mr. Weasley borrowed for me? Then we can set up house outside and get down to business." Hermione made a mental note to go home and get her things, and Crookshanks. Her parents would be willing to keep the cat, but Hermione didn't want to leave him behind.
Harry grinned. "One of those tents we used for the Quidditch World Cup?"
"Of course. Any other kind would be too obnoxious for long-term living. And since it's in your yard, it falls under the blood protection. Ron's mum sent some food too, and we need to send her an owl. She's worried about you two."
"Food. Good, the woman here acts like she's doing us a huge favor when she allows us bread and water." Ron's disgust was evident, and Hermione wondered if he had even heard the part about the owl. In resignation, she decided to bully him about it after some lunch.
"At least Dudley hasn't returned for the summer yet. We could be getting very small sections of grapefruit instead." Harry grimaced.
"Where did you say the food was?" Ron asked, a hand patting his stomach.
"Tent raising first, food afterward." Hermione led the way down the stairs and back outside.
*****
After an afternoon of making lists of everything they were going to need, or need to find out to defeat Voldemort, Hermione threw together a quick stir fry while the boys played a game of Exploding Snap.
"You know, we're going to have to take turns with this cooking stuff. I'm not getting stuck with it because I'm the girl."
"I can take breakfast," Harry said. "I'm a dab hand at eggs and bacon. I even do pretty well with pancakes and stuff."
"And I can throw together sandwiches for lunch," Ron said. "That leaves you with dinner."
"Figures, since dinner takes the most time," Hermione grumbled.
"Yeah, but we'll get takeout sometimes and give you a hand here and there," Harry said with a grin. "Ron can peel potatoes the easy way now."
With Mrs. Weasley's handy book, Hermione figured they would get by. Spell work was one of her strengths, after all. "Okay, on to the next issue. Didn't you mention, er, Snape said something about you needing to work on your Occlumency, Harry?"
Harry's face darkened and he nodded. "Couldn't help throwing that in my face, could he? Taunting me all the way to the school boundaries."
"Well, maybe he has a point. It wouldn't hurt if we worked on it together. In fact, it would probably be good for the entire Order to strengthen those skills. They could come in handy in combat."
"Yeah, and who's going to work on it with us then? I wouldn't go back to Snape even if he weren't a traitor—and Dumbledore's, erm, not available."
Something protective in her made Hermione want to tell Harry to stop talking about her husband that way. It wasn't fair or completely true. It wasn't as though Dumbledore had given Severus a choice. But he hadn't authorized her to share any of that information. And Harry wouldn't listen anyway. "We can work on it. The three of us. I've been playing around a bit with Legilimancy. It wouldn't hurt to see what we can come up with. It'll be kind of like the DA only on a smaller scale."
Harry's response was more than grudging. "Okay, we'll give it a whirl and see what happens. You in, Ron?"
"Sure, mate, can't hurt. So how we gonna do this?"
Hermione laid out her plans for each of them to spend at least thirty minutes with her trying to get into their minds. They could go an hour if they felt up to it. Every night. The boys groaned, but Hermione stayed firm on this. "If you want to be any good, you've got to practice hard. In a few days, I'll add some real school work into the daily schedule."
Ron moaned. "It's summer time and we're not going back to school. What are we studying for?"
"Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions and Charms. Seventh year curriculum and a few more advanced things. We might learn something worth while. Something we can use in battle. I'd like to add Transfiguration too." She grinned to herself; she had a special Transfiguration project in mind actually and knew the boys would be enthusiastic about it. "Well, maybe we'll start that one early on."
"I doubt turning toothpicks into sewing needles is going to come in handy in battle," Harry complained. "And it's not like we're going to pause in the middle of a duel and whip up some headache cure."
"That wasn't quite what I had in mind—on either count. Anyway, who wants to go first?"
Harry moaned and agreed to start out, which left Ron cleaning up the dishes. As he could do so with the use of magic now, he only grumbled a bit before whipping out his wand.
"Harry, concentrate," Hermione said in a low growl half an hour later. She knew she wasn't that great of a Legilimens, even if she did get in a fair amount of practice with her husband, but that meant Harry was worse at Occlumency than she had expected. After all those months of practice, he was still this wide open? No wonder Severus had mocked him. He had done all right at first, but seemed to be getting worse since, not better.
Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, Harry let out a frustrated huff of air. "I'm sorry, I'm just having trouble concentrating today. Too much on my mind."
"All the more reason to focus. In the heat of battle there will be plenty of distractions around you and you'll need to focus, even if you aren't fighting a Legilimens."
"How did you get so good at this anyway? When did you learn it?" Ron sat down beside Hermione, just a little closer than was completely necessary.
Not thinking anything of it, Hermione scrubbed the hair back from her face and reached for a distraction. "It's not that hard when the person you're working on is only giving ten percent of his effort."
"I have a lot on my mind." Harry stood, his hands gripped in fists.
"Calm down. I'm sorry. We're all a little on edge. Between recent events and what lies ahead of us, we've all got a lot on our minds." Hermione tugged at the hair she still held wrapped around her fingers. "Let Ron have a go at it while you take some time to shut down your mind, Harry. It might be easier if I'm not all but sitting on top of you."
"I need a walk," Harry said, pushing up from the chair opposite Hermione.
"It's not safe to walk around after dark."
"I need a walk, broom ride, something."
What you need is a good snogging from Ginny. Can't say that, though, can I? "Go pull some weeds if you're antsy. After I've poked and prodded at Ron a bit we'll work something out." They'd only been out of school two days, and they were already going stir crazy. It didn't bode well for the summer.
"Weeds. Great. Just great." Harry stalked out into the yard.
After a moment, Hermione cast a charm that let her see through the side of the tent. Harry was, in fact, pulling weeds, to her great relief. She ended the charm, then looked at Ron, who had seated himself in the chair Harry had so recently vacated.
"All right, is your mind clear?"
"As glass." He reached out and took her fingers in his, then looked her in the eye. "I'm ready."
Hermione glanced at his hand, gave it a squeeze, then pulled her hand away. She transferred her wand to that hand and cast her spell. Twenty minutes later she decided he had been perfectly honest when he said his mind was clear as glass.
She could see everything in it.
Frankly, his memories of snogging with Lav-Lav made Hermione a bit queasy.
"All right, we'll work on technique tomorrow. Tonight I want both of you to work on clearing your minds." Hermione stood, a headache blooming where her spine met the back of her head. She hoped tonight wasn't a harbinger of things to come.
She walked outside and found Harry more than halfway around the perimeter of the backyard. Scattered piles of weeds lay every which way behind him. Hermione walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Feel any better?"
"Yeah, actually. I'd still love to go for a broom ride, but I guess that's out of the question. Tomorrow let's get out of here for a little while, K?" When he looked up at her, he looked bone weary and discouraged.
"I think we can manage that." Darkness had gathered around them, and Hermione noted Harry had been pulling weeds by wand light. She ended the light spell with a soft "Nox," then vanished the weed piles under cover of darkness. "Let's get back inside and you and Ron can play a game of chess or something before bed." She reached out to him and he took her hand, pulling himself from the ground with her help
"Sorry I wigged out on you."
"Sorry I'm such a bossy know-it-all." She grinned at him, he smiled back and threw an arm around her shoulders in a friendly gesture. When Ron did the same from the other side, she thought nothing of it.
"Look, we've got a bookworm sandwich," Ron teased.
Hermione poked both of them lightly in the sides, then allowed them to lead her back to the tent. If she had to go through all of this, she was glad to have her friends by her side.
*****
So how did things go today? Did you get settled out at Potter's place?
Hermione smiled when she saw the familiar writing in her diary after the boys went back inside that evening. She settled back against the sofa in her tent. After darkness fell, she had pulled out her wand and cast about a dozen more spells to warn her of visitors, to protect the structure, and keep the conversations she would be having with the boys from being overheard. She also popped home and collected her things, then settled them into the tent. Right now Crookshanks was investigating the back yard. She imagined Petunia would be hysterical if she knew.
I'm all settled in the tent in the back yard and the boys have gone in for the evening. They were both groaning with frustration when I suggested we start Occlumency practice. I know Harry won't have a chance to clear his mind if someone sneaks up on him, but he did all right tonight. He does need a lot more practice though. Ron was a total failure, but then, I did pretty badly at first too.
Glad you've got things moving along. Wish you were here in bed with me. I could come up with some rather inventive activities right now.
Hermione laughed. I'm sure you could. I picked up some seventh-year texts yesterday in Diagon Alley, along with a couple other books that looked interesting. I'd like to start studying and looking for anything we might find useful in combat. That brought another groan from the boys, but they'll get used to the idea.
I don't envy you the task of banging something into their heads this summer. I imagine you are used to it, however. I want you to carry your diary with you from now on. If I have time-sensitive information for the Order, I need you to be able to pick up on it.
All right, I'll charm my diary to let me know when something's been added. She paused for a moment, feeling awkward and unsure how to end the conversation, not wanting to end it at all.
I better go, I just heard Wormtail come in downstairs.
Okay. This tent is palatial compared to most tents, but it's still not your arms. Be careful.
You too.
Hermione sat back in her bed, staring at his words and wondering what he really thought of their relationship. As he had once noted, their feelings were manufactured, and Slughorn said love potions could only cause obsession, not real love. The Headmaster had hypothesized that the strength of the bond was determined at least partly by the need of the participants.
She and Severus had certainly needed a strong bond, an overpowering obsession that kept them coming back to each other. Nothing less would have sufficed for the long run. Still, she couldn't help but feel that the longing in her, the longing cause solely by the potion, seemed to have diminished as her real feelings for her husband had grown. The events of earlier that week had cracked their growing relationship, but not broken it completely.
She wondered if he felt the change in the bond too, or if he would acknowledge it even if he had felt it.
Letting out a sigh at the impossibility of sorting it all out right now, and accepting the puzzle for what it was—a puzzle that would take time and care to sort out—she closed and set aside her diary. Beside it sat the Potions text she had picked up in Diagon Alley the previous day. It had cost her dearly and sucked up a huge chunk of time to locate—she had to be sure the book she bought held exactly the potion she needed before she bought it, after all—but she had been elated to find it. And if it led her where she wanted to go, it would be well worth it.
Again she scanned the index, found the potion she needed and flipped to the right pages. The list of ingredients was long, and a few would be tricky to get her hands on, but none of them were exactly restricted. She pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began writing down all of the needed ingredients, along with the amounts she would need for a single batch. When this was finished, she read through the directions once, then again. Tricky and potentially disastrous indeed. With some advanced reading and a bit of picking her husband's brain, she figured she could handle it—if she had somewhere to brew it, that was.
That would be a real sticking issue, however. And she would need . . . she paused to figure out how many doses would be in a finished cauldron, then stared.
Only eight.
Eight.
That was going to be one heck of a lot of batches for her to mix.
She might be able to mix two at a time, but they each took a month so she was looking at a minimum of six months to prepare and create the amount required. Determined, she pulled out another sheet of paper and began working on a schedule.