A/N: I apologize for the delay; 7 month olds are busy!
Chapter Thrity-Nine
It was hours after the fighting had begun, and neither of the cottage's occupants could calm themselves enough to sleep. Severus had resorted to pacing in front of the bookshelves, and Hermione left him to it, crossing the hall to stand in front of the kitchen window. She stared out at the empty street, the darkness blurring any evidence of an attack, and fell deep into thought.
She understood why Severus had stopped her from fighting, but it didn't sit well with her that he had done so forcefully. She was her own person, after all, and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. It was difficult for her to stand back and do nothing, and while he seemed to be just fine hiding away, she found herself remembering the haunted look on Harry's face and wondering if she could have prevented that from happening to someone else.
Of course, she could have walked away with a similar expression, but what was a little more trauma going to do to her that she hadn't already gone through?
Severus was right, though. While Harry had been able to make the difficult decision to save himself and kill the werewolf that attacked him, Hermione wasn't so sure she'd be able to make that same call. She'd never know unless she was in that position herself, but was she really ready to risk her life- or her health- to find out?
Her urge to help couldn't be conquered by that fear, though, and even now she wished to walk out the door and assist with any sort of aftermath that may exist outside their bubble of safety.
With that thought her irritation grew. As much as she would like to do so, the decision to stay put was not reasoned with her, it was taken from her. Where Severus could have argued his point, he chose instead to lock her away even more thoroughly than she had been these past two months, acting as if she were an impulsive child in need of grounding. Anger clouding her thoughts, she turned and stalked into the living room.
"I am not a child in need of protection!" She snapped at him, and he paused his pacing to look up at her in surprise. "If you don't agree with a decision I make, talk to me about it- don't take the decision away from me entirely!"
His eyes hardened as he stood straighter. "And when should we have debated your hurried attempt to get yourself mauled? You were nearly on the other side of the barrier before I had a chance to think!"
"Warding the doors, though? You can't just lock me in here!"
"What would you have had me do instead?" he asked her, throwing his arms out in exasperation. "You gave me very little options, Hermione. I couldn't let you go out there, and I knew you wouldn't listen to reason-"
"Then that would have been my choice!" She jabbed a finger into her chest. "I should be able to decide for myself what's best for me!"
"You didn't think at all!" he shouted, and when she flinched he rubbed his face before speaking at a more reasonable volume. "You didn't give your actions half a thought- you reacted on impulse, and that sort of reaction is the kind that gets you killed!"
"I wouldn't have-"
"You can't know that!" he shouted again. "You've never faced off against a werewolf, Hermione- you don't know what it's like. You have no proper training, no experience, and-"
"I could have helped in other ways!" she argued, her voice growing as well. "I could have shielded, I could have put out fires, I-"
"Fine- go then!" he snapped, waving his hand and canceling the ward. "If you want to risk your life on some pointless noble crusade, who am I to stop you?"
"Who, indeed?" she retorted as she spun on her heel and stormed over to the door.
She had barely turned the handle before his hand slammed into the door above her. Turning in outrage, she was met with his dark, suddenly pleading eyes and froze.
"Don't."
That one softly spoken word was uttered with such open vulnerability, Hermione's angry words died away.
"I'm sorry," he continued, his hand still braced against the door. "You're right, I shouldn't have locked you in. But I'm asking you now, I'm begging you... don't go."
The fight left Hermione almost instantly. "All right," she whispered, and watched as Severus nearly collapsed in relief.
His eyes closed. "Thank you," he whispered, before pushing off the door and backing away from her.
Hermione's hand was still on the doorknob, and she stared at it while she considered what she had just agreed to. Slowly, she let go of the knob and turned around. Severus was still watching her, his eyes wary as she stepped towards him. Before she reached him, however, she turned towards the living room. She wasn't ready to be so forgiving quite yet.
He followed her into the room as she collapsed on the couch, staring at the dying fireplace. Behind her, Severus resumed his pacing, but she could feel his eyes on her.
She was so tired. How could she be this tired, when she hadn't done anything? Laying down, she used her arm as a pillow and stared blankly in front of her. Now that she had resolved to stay inside and do nothing, a sort of numbness fell over her, a state of nothingness reminiscent of the time she accidentally locked all of her emotions behind her shield. She couldn't tell if she had accepted what had happened, or if she just didn't care.
Soft snores alerted Severus to the fact that Hermione had fallen asleep on the couch. His pacing slowed, and he lingered over her still figure as his thoughts spiraled around him.
She was justified in her anger, that much he could admit. But he couldn't say he was sorry he had done it, not if it meant that she was safe. He understood her urge to run out and do something more than she knew; he also understood the frustration of doing nothing- how many times had he been forced to sit back, screaming behind his shields as he witnessed countless atrocities carried out in Voldemort's name? But werewolves...
If it were any other creature, he may have joined the fight. But he didn't exactly have a grand history with facing off a werewolf. He knew first hand how dangerous and unpredictable they were.
The fact that Hermione had also come face to face with a werewolf- the same werewolf, at that- and had no such hesitation just added to her wonder.
And the fact that he almost let her go... his chest tightened at the memory of her walking out of the living room. Pure panic overtook him, and he had immediately regretted his dismissiveness. He didn't even realize he was chasing after her until his hand slammed into the door.
To think that moments before the attack had happened, they had been about to... And now she was furious with him, and he couldn't blame her, despite having no regrets for his actions. How would she feel about him when she woke? Would she consider this a betrayal of trust? He supposed it could be seen that way. He could only hope that the morning would bring forgiveness.
Glancing out into the hall, he considered retiring himself. But no, he couldn't bring himself to do so quite yet. Surely there would be someone coming to them with information about what had happened. In that event, he wanted to be fully awake.
Well, Hermione wasn't the only one itching to do something. He wasn't sure it would even get to the people in need, but he resolved himself to brewing until someone made a visit.
The sun had risen before Hermione joined him in the lab. Pushing the door open, she eyed it curiously. "You never leave your door cracked."
"I wanted to be aware of any happenings in the home."
Her forehead furrowed. "In case of visitors?"
Or the front door opening. "Yes." Reaching for the alihotsy leaves, he asked, "How did you sleep?"
"Fine, I guess." He watched from behind his hair as she sat across from him, trying to gauge her expression. She certainly seemed less upset. "I'm not sure how much sleep I actually got. What time is it?"
"Shortly after eight thirty. You were asleep for approximately six hours."
"Why does it feel like only one?" She dropped her head in her arms on the table before him, and he gently brushed a curl away from the scurvy grass. Groaning into the wood, she mumbled, "I will give you all the money in my account to stupefy me until this whole ordeal is over."
"Then who would stupefy me?"
She snorted and lifted her head. Looking over the ingredients on the table, she asked, "Invigoration Draught?"
His voice held an edge to it when he confirmed. "I thought that if anyone cared to check in on us, we could pass some along to those involved in the attack."
"Severus, the sun just came up. Give them until they've had their tea." She glanced behind him and must have seen the crates full of potions because she asked, "How long have you been at this?"
"Since you fell asleep." Picking up the scurvy grass, he inspected the blades for any loose curls before adding them to the brew. "You aren't the only one that wanted to help."
She blinked at that. "What all did you brew?"
"Blood Replenisher, wound cleaner, bruise paste. Anything I thought could be useful."
He looked up at her silence and was met with a dumbfounded expression. "What?" he asked brusquely as he mentally counted stirs.
"I just..." Looking at the crates and then back at him, she started again. "I'm just surprised by the amount you've gotten done. The Blood Replenisher especially-"
"Yes, that one did take a bit of time," he agreed. "But it was easy to brew that alongside the bruise paste, and brewing both simultaneously kept my mind nicely preoccupied."
"Right..." She was biting her lip again, and Severus had to stop from reaching out- alihotsy leaves could induce hysteria, and he didn't want to risk whatever small amount may still linger on his hand. "Erm... can I help with anything?
"Actually," she said with a tap to the table, "I bet you could go for some tea. I know I could." She peered into his cauldron. "And by the look of that potion, you seem to be just about finished. Meet me in the kitchen after?"
His eyebrows raised. "Yes, of course," he answered, and watched in surprise as she bounded off. He had hoped she would forgive him easily for last night, but he honestly hadn't expected her to.
The lab door closed, and Hermione took a long, deep breath. Exhaling slowly, she rubbed her eyes and moved towards the kitchen.
Ever since she woke an hour ago, her mind had been cycling through the previous night's events. She had concluded, shortly before entering the lab, that she should accept the apology Severus had given and move past their argument- after all, it was a high stress situation and they were both acting impulsively. But after speaking with him in the lab and finding out just how much he had done without her, she realized that some resentment still remained. She was determined to ignore it, however, and as she pulled the kettle down from its shelf, she began the process of reasoning with herself over again.
So she felt left out; it wasn't his fault she was feeling useless. It was good that he was brewing. Those potions would be needed, if only to replenish those used in the attack. There was no reason for her to feel any which way about it, except to be thankful he had even thought to do so in the first place.
It would have been nice to say she had helped in some way, too, but it wasn't like anyone was going to hold it against her.
The kettle whistled just as Severus entered the kitchen, and Hermione quickly prepared their tea. "When do you think someone will come to us?" she asked as she sat across from him, handing him his cup.
Setting his tea down, he frowned over her shoulder towards the living room. "They should have come by now. They should have come hours ago."
Sipping her drink, she looked out the window. The street on the other side bore no hint of last night's events, and for that she was grateful. She knew the shopping district wouldn't be so lucky. "I can only imagine the Minster of Magic and Hogwarts' Headmistress have more important things to focus on than making a house call at the moment."
"Then they could have sent Potter," he growled as he stood, stalking over to the fridge. "What do you want for breakfast?"
She bristled at his tone. Even his query about breakfast was spoken harshly. She understood his frustration, but she was not in a very patient mood at the moment. "Nothing, if you're going to be like that."
Slamming the fridge closed, he snapped, "Like what?"
"That!" She gestured towards him with her hand. "All prickly and moody and unpleasant to be around. I'd rather fend for myself, thank you very much."
He narrowed his eyes as he turned away, and she heard him mutter, "There it is." Eyebrows raised, she set her cup down loudly.
"There what is?"
"I don't have time for this," he said under his breath as he strode towards the hall, but she was up and following him before he crossed the threshold. So much for being forgiving.
"No, what did you mean by that?" She grabbed his arm before he made it too far down the hallway and demanded, "Tell me!"
Tearing his arm free, he glared over her head and snapped, "Clearly you haven't forgiven me as much as you pretend to."
"Well, can you blame me?" When he huffed and turned away, she caught his arm again.
"Stop that!" he snapped, ripping her limb away from her. "I've apologized, haven't I? What else is there to do?"
She opened her mouth to retort that there was nothing to be done when he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I can't blame you for being short with me, I suppose." Dropping his hand, he looked at her with weary, defeated eyes. "Perhaps it would be best to spend the day apart for the time being."
"I-" Hearing him say that, Hermione's heart beat faster. "I don't want that," she said quickly, realizing how badly she was overreacting.
"What do you want, then?" She chose not to take offense at the slight irritation in his tone; as he hadn't slept all night, she was sure his patience was just as frayed as hers.
Gesturing to the kitchen again, she simply said, "Tea. I want tea."
He nodded and followed her back into the kitchen.
"I'm trying," she said as she sat. "I don't want to hold a grudge. I want to move past this, to go back to how things were... well, before all of this." She stared at her cup and added, "After last night, it's hard not to be on edge, you know?"
She glanced up when she heard him exhale. "I do know," he agreed. "I'm well familiar with this feeling. It's followed me most of my adult life."
"How do you cope?" she asked quietly.
He looked at her then. "You already know; I keep busy."
Oh, right. I did know that. "Hence the potions."
He nodded. "Hence the potions."
"Will you be brewing more today?"
He shook his head. "I don't have the focus for more brewing at the moment. I will, however, be reorganizing the lab."
Her eyes widened. "The whole lab?" When he nodded, she asked, "Would you like help?"
He took some time to think about it, sipping his tea before answering. "I can't promise I'll be patient."
"I can't promise that either."
A smirk crossed his face briefly before he nodded. "Very well. Now, what do you want to eat?"
After breakfast they both returned to the lab. The busywork did admittedly clear her mind, but it seemed to be doing the opposite for Severus. An hour into the endeavor, he snapped at her for being in his way when she had set up camp exactly where he had instructed. Shortly after that, he threatened to shave her cat if he stepped one more paw across the threshold while Hermione walked to and from the kitchen with armfuls of spoiled ingredients. Three hours in, he took all the jars off of the shelves to reorganize them, something he had already done.
"Wasn't that one of the first things you did?" she asked him as she swept the floor.
"That was before someone mucked it all up with their perusing," he said through his teeth, and Hermione let the broom fall as she put her hands on her hips.
"You asked me to catalogue what we had." Wiping sweat from her brow, she picked the broom up and set it against the wall. "I'm done. I can't handle any more berating when I'm just trying to help."
"Wait."
She paused in the doorway, and looked over her shoulder. His back was to her, his head tilted back as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes?" she asked when he didn't continue.
Exhaling, he turned around and faced her. "I apologize for being berating."
He certainly didn't look apologetic, but he wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it. "Apology accepted. I'm still leaving."
He nodded, looking back towards the shelves. "I understand."
"You should, too," she told his back. "It's lunchtime. Are you not hungry?"
"No," he answered brusquely. "Feel free to eat without me."
"I'm sure whoever comes to update us would prefer you be fed," she countered. "Anything to help your mood."
His words were sharp when he replied, "I would have been fed if they had bothered to visit in a timely manner."
She left without another word.
Hermione did not join him in his lab again after she ate, but her urge to do something was too strong to ignore. Sitting and reading would not cut it, so she began deep cleaning the house- the muggle way. She dusted the bookshelves and lined the spines of the books up evenly; she scrubbed the counters in the kitchen and wiped down the interior of the sink; She swept out the fireplace and all the wooden floors; anything she could think to do to keep her mind and body distracted.
Severus emerged from the lab shortly before six in the evening, stalking across the hall to his bedroom where he remained for quite some time. She highly doubted he had gone to get some sleep, and was proven correct when he joined her in the kitchen looking just as tired as he had been- more so, really.
"How are you still standing?" she asked him as she sliced some carrots.
He opened the fridge, turning back to her in surprise. "Did you clear this out?"
She gestured to him with the hand holding the knife. "Do you know how many rotten vegetables I found in the back of the shelves? We need to do a better job of eating them in time."
"Or at least disposing them in a timely manner," he muttered as he pulled out some chicken. "I assume we're making this?"
She nodded. "Thankfully we've been good about eating the meat." Turning back to the cutting board, she asked, "Is your lab up to your high standards once again?"
He turned to the sink to wash his hands. "My standards are not high; they're the bare minimum."
She smirked to herself. "Is that why you reorganized the shelves four times?"
He glared at her as he grabbed a hand towel. "Three times."
"That isn't better," she teased.
"What's gotten you in such a chipper mood?" he asked sourly as he hunted for the right pan.
"Cleaning can do that to me." Turning around, she pulled open a cabinet and handed him the pan from its new storage spot. "I thought it made more sense over there."
"You're rearranging my kitchen now?"
"You're lucky it wasn't your books." She placed the thyme on the cutting board next, and added, "I'd love to hear the reasoning behind your categorizing sometime. I noticed when I was dusting-"
She was interrupted by the sound of the floo from the living room; Severus dropped the pan on the counter and stormed out of the kitchen.
Hastily wiping her hands, Hermione followed him across the hall and entered the living room in time to witness Severus shout at McGonagall, "Where the hell have you been?!"
"Severus!" she scolded, but he ignored her and continued his rant.
"It's been nearly twenty four hours we've been waiting- you didn't think we'd be driving ourselves mad while doing so?! What the hell happened?!"
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized to her headmistress as she shoved Severus towards the couch. "He hasn't slept."
Rebuffing her efforts to get him to sit, he snapped, "Don't apologize as if I'm an unruly child!"
"Are you quite done?" McGonagall snapped. "You aren't the only one suffering in all of this. You have no idea what the last twenty four hours have been like!"
"And that's our fault?!"
Hermione grabbed his upper arms and made him face her. "Severus! Stop! Do you want to know what happened or not?"
Pulling away from her, he threw himself down on the couch and glared at McGonagall. "Well?!"
McGonagall's glare was equally as nasty as she sat heavily in the wingback chair. Hermione remained standing, leaning against the desk with her arms crossed as she watched the two of them carefully. Something about McGonagall's reaction didn't sit well with her. "What happened?"
The headmistress glanced at her before relaxing her expression. "How much do you know?"
"We know werewolves attacked Hogsmeade," she said quickly, cutting off Severus' comment. "We know something was burning. We don't know anything beyond that."
"Yes, that would be the Three Broomsticks," McGonagall said quietly. "We lost Rosmerta in the fire."
Hermione's eyes grew large. "Madame Rosmerta died?"
"She wasn't the only one." McGonagall glanced away, wiping at her eyes.
"Who else?" asked Severus, his voice rough. Hermione looked over at him; he was frowning at McGonagall, but in concern rather than annoyance.
Taking a deep breath, she answered, "Aberforth. He was trying to reach Rosmerta. It was fiendfyre, you see. The shopkeep for Dervish and Banges, the young one- he was set upon by a werewolf. He's alive, but only just. They aren't sure if he'll make it. And the civilian count is... well, we're still trying to figure that out. And..."
She took a deep breath as she looked at Hermione, whose heart sank. "Who?" she whispered, her hand at her throat. "Who was it?"
"He's all right," the headmistress assured her, "but... Ron Weasley was also attacked by a werewolf last night."
The floor fell out from under her, and she sank into Severus' desk chair. "What?"
Severus looked quickly her way, but she couldn't look away from McGonagall. "In what capacity?" he asked her, his voice tight.
"He was not bitten," she answered while Hermione stared on, "but he nearly lost his arm from the claws. And due to the proximity of the beast's face, they cannot guarantee that no saliva came in contact with the wound."
Whatever Severus asked next, she couldn't hear it. Only her racing heartbeat, which pounded loudly through her head. Ron had been out there. Ron had been out there, and he had been hurt. And all she had done was hide away.
Could she have helped him if she had left? If Severus hadn't stopped her, could she have watched his back? If she had been too late for that, could she have at least been there, supported him? If only she had left when she had the chance-
"Hermione!"
She blinked; Severus was standing at her side, leaning over her with a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked her, studying her eyes, and she realized that she was crying. She took a deep, shaky breath in and shook her head. She was anything but all right.
He knelt down then, taking her hands in his. "The likelihood of him contracting the disease-"
"I can do the math," she whispered. It didn't change anything. Without being bitten, it was unlikely he had contracted lycanthropy. But the chance was still there.
"It happened early in the night," he was telling her- so that's what he had asked McGonagall. "You leaving would have made no difference."
"What else happened?" she said quickly, turning away from Severus.
"Hermi-" he tried to say, but Hermione cut him off, repeating her question more forcefully. He dropped her hands, but he didn't leave her side.
McGonagall cleared her throat, wiping at her eyes once more. "The attack started with the destruction of the Shrieking Shack."
"We felt an explosion," Severus said, and McGonagall nodded.
"It was most likely a signal- it was done minutes before the full moon, and it is thought that the werewolves had moved throughout the village in their human forms before transforming and giving in to the... vicious urges. The ministry had been tipped off about the attack, thank goodness, but they hadn't known what exactly would happen. They had men stationed around the village, and more came as the word spread. I was informed of the situation early on and focused my efforts on closing down the school, so I know little about the small details, but I do know that at some point a hooded figure was seen casting fiendfyre on the Three Broomsticks. And, well, I told you the outcome from that."
Hermione stood, walking around Severus to the bookshelves where she began to pace. Her arms crossed, and she worried her bottom lip as she listened to the rest of the events.
"I have been to see the damage earlier today, and the Three Broomsticks was not the only building to have sustained damage. The fire spread, burning several of the buildings around the pub. I don't know how they managed to contain it at that point; honestly, it could have burned down the entire shopping district- which is absolute chaos, by the way. The villagers have come together for the most part, clearing away rubble and offering assistance where needed, but it will take a good while before it's up and running again.
"As for the school," she added, "I'm allowing parents to bring their children home for the week if they so choose. An attack this close to Hogwarts has understandably put many of them on edge."
"And we don't know how many people died in the attack?" Hermione asked. McGonagall shook her head.
"There are aurors still searching, so likely we'll know by the morning."
Severus, now leaning against the desk much like she had been, asked, "What of MacNair? Was he behind it?"
McGonagall exhaled. "So the ministry was told."
"By who?"
Her answer was cut short as the floo activated once more, and to Hermione's immense relief Harry appeared from the flames.
"Oh thank God," she uttered as she hurried over to embrace her best friend, clinging to him tightly as he wrapped his arms around her in response. "I was so worried about you," she mumbled into his shoulder, and he let out a relieved laugh.
"I felt the same about you! Are you okay?"
"No," she sniffled. "Not really. Where's Ron? What's happening with him?"
Pulling back from her, he led her over to the vacant couch. "Ron's in St Mungo's. I didn't get to see him- only family is allowed right now- but he's going to be okay. His arm isn't doing great, but at least he still has it."
"And did they say-"
He shook his head. "They can't say one way or the other if he's contracted the disease. Unfortunately, we'll just have to wait and see."
Hermione could feel the pinprick of tears at the corners of her eyes, but she nodded. "At least he's alive," she said quietly, then asked, "Were you fighting them again? Are you okay?"
At that Harry looked over at Severus, who raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, Potter?"
"I've come to update you," he said with a grin, "and this time you won't have a reason to yell at me."
"There's always a reason to yell at you," Severus replied, but followed it with, "So? What have you come to say?"
Harry turned to Hermione then and announced, "MacNair is dead. It's over, Hermione."