Chapter 21: Dates and Animagus Unveiling
With the aid of an advanced glamour, Severus walked down Diagon Alley, his mind on his few remaining errands. He'd already picked up ingredients for his oft-used Cruciatus Calming Potion. His supply was getting dangerously low, and he knew he couldn't put off starting another batch. Still left on his list were a new pair of boots and some foodstuffs for his place at Spinner's End.
Over the past twenty or so years, he'd carefully put by most of his income, needing little to live on since his room and board were supplied at the castle. Still, his savings were not sufficient for a lifetime, not by any means, and he'd need a fair chunk of money to start up somewhere else. There was no way out of this war except Azkaban or death—not that he could see. As he had no desire to cut his time with Hermione short, he must make provisions for the future.
That meant his current financial situation was precarious at best, and he must cut costs everywhere he could. He passed a wizarding travel agency and saw posters in the window of white sand beaches and luxurious accommodations with an enormous hotel complete with lake-sized pools and waterfalls wider than the Knight Bus was long. One poster read "Isn't it time you took a trip to Paradise with your someone special?" Another touted a magically hidden building on the black, lava-encrusted shore of Hawaii as the perfect honeymoon getaway: "Behind the impervious wards lies peace and solitude," with a picture of a witch and wizard strolling hand-in-hand along the hidden beach. He could all but smell the salt tang in the air.
He paused to look at the pictures and felt a twinge of guilt. True, he hadn't chosen to end up in a relationship with Hermione. Marrying her had been more or less forced on them. That didn't mean she didn't deserve a honeymoon. She should have been given a special time with him to feel loved and cherished—even if it was only a facsimile of love that held them together. He thought of the cottage that had been waiting for the new owner to claim it for several months now. It wasn't impressive or luxurious, though it had its advantages, as it was quaint and somewhat charming. With the added advantage that no one would go looking for him there, or knew he had any ties to it, the little building was a useful hideaway. It even had a variation of the Fidelius Charm attached to it, making it a safe place for trysts. His other option might have been more impressive, but far less cozy.
He turned from the window and continued down the street. There were a few things he would have to work out if he wanted her to meet him there tonight. Details, preparations, a visit to see if it was possible to have the place in readiness.
His mind set, and plans percolating, he ignored the world around him.
* * *
That night, Hermione met Severus at a tiny cottage on the edge of Bradford, Yorkshire. When he wrote that a friend had lent it to him, she wondered if it was safe, but then decided it must be, or he wouldn't have suggested it. It had been almost a week since she'd been able to meet with him last, and she was anxious to see him. She could feel his anticipation as well.
The cottage was sweet, surrounded by rambling roses, huge stalks of hollyhock, and spikes of Lupine. The area outside the fence was a bit overgrown, and the main road was so far away, she could only hear the occasional passage of cars. It seemed perfect.
She walked through the white picket gate inside a flower-covered arch and down the stone walkway. Evening had fallen, and the walkway was lit with half a dozen little lamps, adding even more charm to the yard. The wooden front door stood ajar and Hermione lifted her hand to knock, feeling foolish and unsure of protocol. Wanting to be certain she had found the right place, she closed her eyes and felt him drawing nearer. When she opened her eyes, he came into view on the far side of the room, and a slight smile crossed his lips. She watched him glide across the room until he opened the screen door.
Every move was like a subtle enticement, and she had to shake her head, trying to clear it a little. They had been separated for longer periods since events at the school, but tonight his appeal was greater than ever.
"Hello, Wife. Glad you could make it." He drew her inside, then cupped both her shoulders, pulling her close to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. One hand slid up into her hair while the other lifted to trace the curve of her chin, the length of her neck.
She'd never asked for romance, never expected it, but the way he was treating her was drugging. She wondered if there was some charm on the cottage, or if it was just the magic of cricket music in the moonlight with the scent of roses wafting around them. "Hello, Husband," she said when he drew his lips away from hers.
He took her hand and pulled her into the cottage, shutting the heavy wooden door behind them and leading her through the candle-lit interior. The furniture was somewhat worn, but not shabby. It was old looking, comfortable, and—after the almost obscene proliferation of doilies she had been living with in the tent—the rare knickknack or bit of lace made the room feel charming but uncluttered.
He pulled her through the room into the tiny kitchen, then down a short hall to what should have been a speck of a bathroom. But when he pressed the door open, she saw a large counter with two sinks, with a mirror covering the whole wall above it, and a shower big enough for four with several heads coming out of the wall at different angles. The thing that really caught her eye, however, was a bathtub that would compete in size with a Muggle hot tub, big enough for three with room to spare. And the water was steaming with flower petals floating across the top of it.
"Oh, this is lovely." She walked over to touch the water, just this side of too hot—her favorite temperature for a good long soak.
"I realized we never had a real honeymoon, and we probably never will, so I wanted to make tonight special."
Not sure what to make of that, she turned to face him and saw how worn he was. She lifted a hand and carefully traced his features with her fingers. His face was well lined, but the lines seemed more pronounced than usual, and his eyes were tired. "The night is special anytime you're nearby. But thank you. It's wonderful."
A house-elf flashed into the room, a large tray of finger food held high above his head. He set it on a small table beside the tub, then snapped his fingers and a bottle of wine and two tall flutes appeared next to it. "Is sir needing anything else?"
"No, thank you, Twinkie. That will be all for tonight." Severus nodded to the elf and it disappeared.
"House-elves?" Hermione asked, surprised such a small place would have one.
"Please don't try and give him clothes, the owner claims he can't do without him." Severus touched her cheek, then began to unbutton her blouse.
"Twinkie? He's named after Muggle junk food?"
Severus grimaced. "It wasn't my doing. The codger who named him always had a strange sense of humor." Finishing with the buttons, he pushed the blouse from her shoulders and turned his attention to her jeans.
Hermione decided now was not the time. "Had a rough day, have you? You look tired."
"You have no idea. The Dark Lord was furious over the loss of the men who went after the Creeveys. It was practically a bloodbath. Expect a catalogue of dead or missing persons over the next few days."
"Oh, that's horrible." Hermione slipped into the steaming water and let out a contented sigh while he took care of his own clothes. "I mean, it's good we're that many Death Eaters shorter at the time of battle, but I'm sure they have families and such. And then I think—it could have been you." She had nightmares about him being tortured and killed while at one of those meetings.
"I worry about that all the time," he admitted as he dropped his shirt on the floor beside hers. "Not so much for my own sake, because my time with you is the only thing worth prolonging, but because you are far too young and innocent to die. But it is war." The last sentence was said with a heavy tone. Something was clearly troubling him.
He slipped in beside her, and wrapped her in his arms. "I sensed that something very good happened this afternoon. Care to share?"
"Um, it was good, great, really. But I can't."
He paused for a moment, but Hermione couldn't see his face, so she focused on his emotions and sensed indecision. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the Horcrux search Dumbledore has you out on, would it?"
Hermione turned her head in surprise, blinking as she tried to figure out how he knew. But of course, he would have had to know what damaged Dumbledore in order to treat it, and as Madam Pomfrey wasn't an Order member, Severus was the most likely candidate. "I, um, can't confirm or deny that issue."
"Good. Have any idea how to destroy it?" He seemed completely unperturbed by her answer.
"Um, working on multiple projects at this time." It was clearly pointless to try and lie, though she couldn't come straight out and tell him anything.
"I'll lend you a book that may prove helpful. Just be careful." He lifted one of her hands from the water and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I'd hate it if you lost one of these precious hands. Come to me before you do it, and I may be able to help you contain the problem. You're a very powerful witch, but there are many things for you to learn yet."
"Um, hmmmm." She didn't want to commit, but she didn't want to cause trouble between them, either. She'd have to think this over, decide what she dared share, even in a round-about manner. Harry would hex her for even thinking about verifying Severus's theory of their activities.
His hand tightened on her wrist, and his eyes bored into hers. "Promise me you will discuss your strategy with me before you try putting it into practice. For your own safety. Promise."
His fingers hurt on her wrist and she gasped in surprise. "I promise to discuss it with you in advance of whatever it is we have to do."
After a moment, his fingers loosened. "As much as I hate admitting it, you are the only good thing left in my life. I cannot lose you." He kissed the skin he had just bruised. "I'm sorry. I should be more careful with you."
She slid her lips across his in acceptance of his apology, and they didn't speak again for a long time.
* **
When Hermione received the book by owl the next day, she wasted no time in beginning her search. Thankfully, Severus had marked a couple places he thought might help, and she was able to cut through the useless spells right off.
Harry and Ron were working on the Charms assignment she had given them when the owl flew into the tent and were both using great concentration as they attempted to make the spare bedroom pillows float over to them without speaking the words aloud.
Looking up at them, Hermione noted they were making some headway and each had a couple pillows sitting nearby. In a few more minutes she intended to have them send the pillows back. She couldn't be happier with the progress the two of them were making, and she hoped the kinds of things they were focusing on might come in handy.
"How come you aren't doing this too? It's your assignment." Ron's voice was frustrated.
She lifted her wand without taking her eyes from the book. One of his pillows came soaring at her. When it hit the base of her chair, she flicked her wand again, and it floated back to his feet. "Any other questions?"
"How do you do that? It's not fair."
"Calm down, Ronald. I couldn't handle a broom in a million years of practice and get it to respond as well as you did at three years old. We each have our strengths. Besides, I've been practicing the daily assignments when you've gone back inside for the night." Her eyes focused in, and she reread the sentence she had just skimmed. "That's it!" She sat up straighter in her chair and studied the words a third time. "I found the spell we need to destroy the Horcruxes!"
Grateful for the interruption, both boys forgot what they were doing and hurried over to where she was studying the procedure. "It's wicked difficult. We'll have to set up a containment field if we don't want to repeat what happened to Dumbledore. And I'll have to get some pointers." She began writing notes to herself on everything they needed to prepare.
Harry put a quelling hand on her arm. "We can't tell anyone about this. No one is supposed to know. It's my project."
"Our project, and I'll keep things neutral; I just want to make sure I get things exactly right. It's tricky and dangerous." A feeling of elation filled her chest. Maybe they had a shot at this after all. If only they knew how to take down Voldemort when it was all over. "Hey, Harry, I was wondering, didn't you say something about love being the answer to killing Voldemort? What exactly did Dumbledore say?"
"You know how funny Dumbledore was, really cryptic. But he said Voldemort didn't understand love and that it was the reason he couldn't stay inside me in the Ministry of Magic, because I can love. And you know, it was really strange, but a few nights ago, I was remembering everything about the night in the cemetery when Voldemort came back. Afterward, when I told Dumbledore what happened, he got this funny look in his eyes, like a look of triumph when I told him Voldemort had taken some of my blood into himself. Like it was an advantage or something. But he didn't say anything about it."
"That is strange." Hermione made some more notes and bit her lip. "Well, best get back to your Charms. As soon as you can call and send back the cushions easily, we'll move onto Transfiguration."
Both boys groaned.
Hermione grinned, "Oh, but I think you'll be plenty excited about this assignment. Or at least in the end result," she amended. Seeing their identical looks of disbelief, she decided it was time to reveal her own little transfiguration project. Since she had moved into the tent, Hermione had taken a few minutes most nights to practice changing forms and felt like she had it down now. She felt confident enough she thought she could help Ron and Harry begin working on their own Animagus forms, if they wanted to.
"Right, Hermione. Since we always loved the class, and changing cows into writing desks is going to help us a bunch in the last battle." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. And Ron's look was more than a little disbelieving.
Letting out a sigh of disappointment, Hermione stood and turned toward them. She put her hands on her hips and sent them a withering look. "In all the months I worked with McGonagall on my special project, you never once asked me what I was doing. You weren't actually thinking I was turning cows into writing desks or something equally inane, were you?"
"No, of course not," Harry said, his shoulders shrugging slightly—a classic tell of his that he wasn't being completely honest.
"Well, yeah, we did, actually." Ron said. Harry scowled at him.
"I did bring the subject up on numerous occasions. I always wondered how you could have so little interest in something that obviously excited me. You never asked what it was—not even half-heartedly."
Ron scratched the back of his neck and tugged at the neck of his shirt. "We were kind of afraid you'd go off on some long-winded explanation we wouldn't understand anyway."
"Thanks for your honesty." Hermione knew her voice was far from sincere, but she was glad Ron had bothered to tell the truth, even if she didn't like hearing it. "But you're going to wish you bothered to humor me." With that, she transformed to a starling, jumped and spread her wings, soared through the air. She took a moment to relish the feel of flight, the buoyancy and rush of excitement. She may not be any good on a broom, but she understood the boys' fascination with flying when she did so under her own power. After a minute she came to land on the table in front of Harry. Then she hopped to the ground, transforming back into her own shape as she landed.
"Bloody hell, why didn't you tell us sooner?" Ron's eyes all but bugged out of his face.
"You're one for secrets, aren't you? Any others in there we should know about, besides the name of your soul mate?" Harry sat in a nearby chair looking a little stunned. "How long have you been doing that anyway?"
When Ron had taken another seat, Hermione returned to her overstuffed chair and pulled her legs under her. "I began transforming the end of April, but it took a while to get it right. Then when everything happened at school, I was nearly there, but I've worked on it since I came here. Don't tell anyone; I've decided not to notify the Ministry until after the war is over."
"And you want to teach us to be Animagi? I say let's get to Transfiguration." Harry pushed a hand through his messy hair and leaned forward.
"Not until you can call those cushions to you and send them back silently and consistently. Consider it motivation."
Both boys grumbled, but within fifteen minutes they were doing a good job at the silent charms, so Hermione gave them each a book to read on getting ready for becoming Animagi.
"Reading," Ron grumbled. "I want to be doing."
"Yeah, well, you'll be more likely to be doing it safely if you know what you're about first. When you finish those books, switch. Then we'll start preparing ourselves for the change."
* * *
Hermione had never seen the boys so enthusiastic about homework assignments before. Ron actually took notes. It made her laugh to herself when she caught him at it, but she didn't comment. By the end of the week, they had finished both books and were ready to begin some practical work.
Hermione promised to start with them the next morning after they returned from Headquarters. They had been asked to mix a batch of healing potions the Order needed for their stock.
After their brewing was finished, Hermione sent Harry and Ron into the house so she could prepare herself for her date with her husband. Not that she mentioned the bit about the husband—the resulting discussion would certainly have made her late to meet Severus.
It had been five days since she'd seen him. Though it had been difficult when they were at school, at least it seldom went more than three days between trysts, even if said visits tended to be shorter in duration and far too often included little more than stolen kisses.
This time they were meeting at a Muggle fast-food restaurant and had plans to take in a movie. Severus had grumbled when she suggested the activity, but acquiesced when she said she wanted him to understand something of her other world, since he'd been out of it for so long. Besides, it was the best place to hide in plain sight.
They agreed to go to Dover for the date, but Severus still planned to wear a glamour for the evening. Even in Muggle areas of the country, there was a slight chance he might be recognized.
Hermione popped into the out-of-the-way alley, then walked around to the front of the fast food stand. The air was redolent with the scent of hot peanut oil and frying meat. She could feel Severus's presence, but knew he was in disguise, so she focused on him internally and began walking toward him. After a moment she was able to pinpoint him. He was disguised as a twenty-something brown-haired man with a mop not unlike Harry's—a fact she decided not to mention. He was a bit taller than in real life, and though the glamoured face was more handsome than his own, she decided she preferred the way he looked without it. His eyes were on her, as if he had been watching for some time to see if she could pick him out of the crowd.
"Hello," she said, taking his hand in hers.
"Hello. I was wondering how long it would take you to find me." His face might have been different, but his voice was the same silky tone that always gave her goose bumps.
"I could find you anywhere. Anytime." She stepped closer to him, only inches from his chest.
His free arm went around her back and pulled her close until they were chest to chest. He swooped down and took her lips, lingering over the kiss, but keeping it reasonably low key since they were in public. "I like knowing that. And I guess I'd better stay on your good side because it means you could find me if you ever wanted to hex me into next year."
"Or if you ever stayed away too long, and I wanted to see you." She pressed her face into his neck. He smelled like himself: lemon soap and male musk.
"I could live with that." She felt him smile against her forehead before he released her. "I suppose we should get something to eat."
"I suppose." Hermione drew away, but kept hold of his hand. She led him toward the counter where she ordered fish and chips for each of them.
When they sat at a nearby table, Hermione cast a silent Muffliato and asked how things were going.
"Your silent spell casting is improving. Are you using it for everything now?" He asked instead of answering her question.
"I'm trying. I'm also working on some rudimentary wandless magic. It's a lot harder though, so it's still a struggle. Ron and Harry are really improving too, but Harry's Occlumency is making leaps and bounds."
Severus looked pleased, a real smile on his glamoured face. If his hand weren't still in hers, verifying who he was, she would have wondered if she had the wrong man—Severus Snape never smiled when she mentioned Harry, not unless she were to say he had gotten in trouble. "How did you ever manage that?"
She smiled secretively. "It just took the right incentive—one you didn't have at your disposal."
"Very good. Keep it up. Have you looked at that book yet?"
His words of praise warmed her, especially as they were so few and far between. She knew he meant every word, and possibly more than he said. "Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that tonight. I think I've got everything figured out, but I want to run a couple things by you." She took a big bite of her fish, closed her eyes in ecstasy, and let out a low moan. "I really need to come here more often."
"I'll have to bring you back, then."
"We could make it a regular date. Every Tuesday night you could bring me for Muggle fare, and I could introduce you to the culture." Hermione didn't think that was really the best use of their time together, though she was enjoying the time spent out in public together. Still, she couldn't help pulling his chain some. "Then we could have in-depth discussions comparing fish and chips with hamburgers and pizza. And maybe—" Her words were muffled as he kissed her.
Hermione smiled against his lips and enjoyed the lingering, teasing pressure of his mouth against her own. When he finally pulled back, she felt her head spin a bit. "That was interesting."
"Only way I could shut you up. If I thought for a second you were serious, I'd pop us both back to the cottage right now and remind you what we could be doing." He ran a finger down the side of her face, flicking the tip over her ear lobe and causing shivers of delight to shoot across her shoulders and along her spine.
"Who says I wasn't serious?" she asked with a grin.
He leaned in a kissed her again, though briefly this time. "Eat. You'll need your strength later."
Grinning even more broadly, she picked up a piece of fish and took another bite.
When they finished their meal, they walked hand-in-hand down the street to a nearby theater and got tickets for a movie Hermione had never heard of.
When the movie ended, she couldn't say she had more than a vague idea of the storyline, since they sat in the back row and kissed through most of it. She grinned to herself as they walked out of the theater after dark, thinking how normal the whole evening had been. Not normal for her, necessarily, but normal for a young adult date.
When they reached a quiet alley, he pulled her into his arms and Apparated them back to the cottage.