Wars of our Fathers
A fan fiction by labrt2004
Chapter Three
Written for debjunk in the Autumn 2011 SS/HG Exchange
Disclaimer: None of it is mine.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my betas, la_syren and snarkyroxy, for your tremendous help. And thank you,debjunk, for the great prompt. And thank you mods, for another wonderful exchange! This story is shamelessly AU. I've basically just taken whatever bits of canon are convenient and tossed out whatever bits aren't. :) Hope you enjoy it.
Dejunk's prompt: Severus Snape's heart has been sealed against women ever since the fiasco with Lily. He finds himself paired with Hermione Granger in some sort of working atmosphere and is not pleased. Things warm up to amiable at some point and during a discussion Severus comments icily that women are heartless users and are not to be trusted. Our resident know-it-all sets out to prove him wrong, and eventually succeeds.
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What had she done?
The refrain that had hounded Hermione all week long rang through her mind again as she watched house-elves levitate the last of her belongings, a trunk full of Arithmancy texts, out of her flat. Her life was literally disappearing from view, her possessions whisked away to some unknown location at Hogwarts. She stood in the middle of what had once been her kitchen, staring at the bare walls and emptied cabinets. She had been so fond of her cherry oak cabinets—and now their doors hung uselessly open, their contents gutted and shelves scrubbed clean.
What had she done, indeed?
She walked over to a window and peered blankly over Muggle London, tracing the wandering paths of pedestrians who were bustling busily past her building. She still had no idea what had overcome her, inspiring her to dismantle an existence she'd only barely managed to piece together. Or why she had allowed Snape to rattle her. She only knew that thoughts stuffed away after years at the Ministry had caught her off guard, and she wasn't expecting the raw pain. Terror had lapped at her conscience when she considered that the carefully crafted life she had consigned herself to living would be all she would ever know.
After he left, she had marched into her study, preparing to fire off an owl telling him she had been mistaken, that she wasn't leaving the Ministry after all. Instead, she had penned her two weeks' notice.
She closed her eyes and thought of Hogwarts. Of things she believed were beyond her reach, until she rashly accepted Snape's offer. She never allowed herself the luxury of wishing for what simply could never be. But that day, as she watched Snape leave, she couldn't stop it—stop subversive hope from surging back to the surface. The idea of a job in which she wasn't a tool for whoever happened to be in power at the Ministry or subjected to the constant buffeting of political winds filled her with such longing that her chest ached. An honest living, not a cowardly charade. She sucked in air, as if trying to push this foreign notion deeper into her.
Back plastered against a wall, she slid absently down to sit on the floor. She wondered how she was going to deal with the consequences of her momentary idiocy. Cradling her head against her palms, she tried to imagine herself standing before a class, lecturing from a textbook, or perhaps explaining the steps in a potion to a roomful of wide-eyed first years. What would she say? Her mind drew a blank as she stared at the rows of students in her would-be classroom. Her eyes flew open, and she wiped her clammy palms against her jeans.
The sound of her doorbell caused her to jump to her feet again. She knew it was Snape this time. He'd mentioned something about a contract that needed to be finalized. Good, she thought. She would just tell him now to forget about it.
Striding to the door, she threw it open. And found herself mere inches away from an expanse of black-covered chest. After a moment of stupefied shock, she managed to lurch gracelessly backward, tipping her head to meet his gaze. She took in the strong line of his jaw and the salt-and-pepper grey at his temples, her thoughts scattering like pixie dust. Snape crossed his arms expectantly, surveying her with sardonically amused black eyes. She flushed, brave words quickly dying on the tip of her tongue.
"Ms. Granger, you're nearly ready to depart, I see. We will need to seal the contract before you can enter Hogwarts."
"No!" Hermione said hurriedly. "Look, I can't take the job. You see, I-" She cleared her throat, trying to start over. This was much more difficult than she could have envisioned, with Snape looming over her, somehow inspiring again the treacherous indecision from last week. She grasped at her flagging resolve, searching for some way to explain the completely unexplainable. Snape waited with thinly veiled impatience.
She paced once away from him and then turned, eyes strangely beseeching. He was tempted to use Legilimency again. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
Snape's softly spoken query contrasted with the unyielding quality of his voice.
Unhappiness concealed for a decade tried to swallow her. Snape was the last person in the world to whom she could disclose the truth. "Yes," she breathed tiredly. "I'm really the wrong person for this job, Professor. I realize I agreed to it while completely blinded by emotion."
She angled her face away from him now, an odd mix of defeat and defiance evident in her stiffly held shoulders. Severus regarded her thoughtfully. It had been rather too easy to manipulate her into accepting the Potions job, and he did indeed question the recklessness of his offer. However, his interest in this skittish creature, such a striking contrast to the fearless student of his memory, had only increased after it became clear that something much more insidious than professional ennui was afoot in her life.
"Your qualifications are perfectly acceptable," he said calmly, which caused Hermione to jerk her head toward him in surprise. "Whatever it is that troubles you, it certainly cannot be that."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're being doggedly persistent about this."
Deftly side-stepping a topic he wished to avoid, Snape lifted a shoulder and said snidely, "Forgotten how to handle the reverence of the wizarding world? Surely you are used to being sought after."
"I'm not going to apologize for helping Harry defeat Voldemort."
He did not further press the point, returning instead to her recalcitrance. "The job. Have you truly set your mind against it?"
She bit her lip, still unable to furnish what she knew should be the right response. Her insides felt weighted with lead.
Severus sensed her to be at a painful crossroads; the burden of Albus' mantle upon his shoulders suddenly felt heavier than ever, leaving him quite out of his depth. He tried to imagine how his predecessor might have proceeded. Tugging at the collar of his robe, he said, "Ms. Granger, since you're clearly unwilling to elaborate, I have absolutely no idea what prevents you from accepting the position. I am sure you're aware that no one can force you into it—however, I will point out that I am fairly certain there is no such thing as an insurmountable obstacle for you."
This kind of reassurance from such an unlikely source caused something to twist through Hermione, opening a gaping void of vulnerability. The rebellious spark of hope stirred again, chafing at her already raw emotions. She stared down at the floor, hopelessly torn, as heat built behind her eyes. "If only it were that simple. I—wouldn't even know where to begin," she said, vaguely confessing, the last of her resistance to him in tatters.
He quietly stepped closer beside her. Tilting his head so he could find her lowered gaze, he said, "Let us complete the Fealty Spell. You can address any remaining concerns once you're at Hogwarts."
"Fealty Spell?" she said thickly. Her thoughts had turned to wool.
"Yes," he said, almost soothingly. "All employees entering Hogwarts must pledge allegiance to the headmaster in order for the castle to recognize them."
Lulled by the low, silky resonance of his voice, which seemed to carry a strange note of solace, and seeking something to fill the hollowness in her, she inched forward and stood wordlessly before him, head bowed.
She smelled faintly of something florid as he took a hold of her hand. She looked up at him, startled, though Severus was sure she understood what a Fealty Spell entailed. Warmth flowed between them as he grasped her fingers in his own. Her hair was swept behind her save a few stray wisps across her cheeks, allowing him an unobstructed view of her lightly freckled nose and a tapering chin. Blinking away his momentary distraction, he extended his other hand, which held his wand, toward her. "Your wand, Ms. Granger. Cross it with mine."
Snape's touch, steadying and solid, caused a sharp intake of breath in her. Dazedly, she moved to obey.
Severus hesitated a moment, debating the wisdom of binding her in her current overwrought state. His belief that denying her at this juncture would be at least equally incapacitating prompted him to begin the ancient incantation. A blue haze rose from their joined wands as Severus murmured in Latin, the cadence of his voice ebbing and flowing as he extracted from her the many layers of promises enjoining her to protect and defend the castle.
Hermione's distress faded as she watched, mesmerized. The spell energy that built between Snape and her burst at the end of the incantation and spiraled upwards before spreading to surround them both in a pulsing, glowing cocoon.
Snape's fingers tightened slightly, reminding her that she needed to say her part. Letting herself be anchored by his distantly determined gaze, she whispered, "I do so swear." The blue light changed to a blazing white that illuminated every last corner of the bare room before the spell dome enclosing them rapidly contracted, sucked back by their wands, swirling and churning as it spun out of sight.
The room was dark and quiet now, with only the filtered light of dusk throwing long, crooked shadows on the wall. They stood together in silence, hands still joined. Severus felt her galloping pulse against his fingertips while his own heartbeat thundered in his ears. He had never experienced a pledge binding quite like that. With magic powerful enough to heat the core of his wand.
Snape released her hand and stepped back, looking extremely disturbed. "Congratulations on your appointment, Professor Granger. See you tomorrow evening at the Opening Feast." With one last hard, baleful glance at her, he turned upon his heel and left.
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