Wars of our Fathers
A fan fiction by labrt2004
Chapter Seven
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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"Wow, Hermione, I can't believe all this time, I didn't know," Harry said. "I really thought law had made you churlish. I feel like a total cad."
They were sitting in her private chambers, a shared plate of cookies between them. She had invited Harry over on a Saturday afternoon, when most of the students were in Hogsmeade, and they had time for her to fully recount her story. Without the last part, of course.
"Well, I wasn't exactly forthright about it, was I? Not even Ron knew." she said, blushing slightly. "It seems so silly in retrospect, bottling it up all those years. But at the time, it seemed to make sense. Don't think about, don't talk about it, and maybe it'll just go away." She sighed. "And now the whole bloody school knows."
Harry picked out a chocolate chip cookie from the pile. "James thinks you were possessed," he offered cheerfully.
"Thanks a lot," she snapped.
"It'll blow over soon enough."
"I guess you of all people would know." She idly tapped her fingers on the table. "That was part of the reason, you know. I didn't want to look like a melodramatic idiot with mental problems when you were holding up so gracefully, even after all that you'd gone through."
"That's rubbish. I was the freaking Chosen One, Hermione, you think I got to get away scot-free after the War? I went through no less than five therapists. Ginny almost divorced me!"
Hermione frowned. "I didn't know about this."
"Of course you didn't. You were in law school."
She smirked. "Naturally."
"So it was Snape who found you?"
"Yes, it was absolutely ghastly. He saw me catatonic in the front of your classroom. I'm surprised he hasn't sent me packing yet. I was so sure he would."
"He won't," Harry said confidently.
She looked curiously at him.
"Cruelty and vindictiveness isn't really his style anymore. Hasn't been since Voldemort fell," Harry explained. "He's more of the brooding, repressed, tortured soul type."
"Oh," Hermione said. There wasn't anything repressed about how he had kissed her, she thought. As if her position at Hogwarts wasn't fraught with enough peril already, she now had to contend with the dark, sensuous appeal of Severus Snape.
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Hermione sat in her office, drumming her wand against her desk. She could hear the first year Slytherin and Gryffindor students filling up the classroom outside. She took a deep breath. Snape had said to Occlude her mind. She thought she'd take an extra step, beyond that, just for good measure. Placing her wand next to her head, she slowly pulled out her memory of the Leland trial. The silvery substance glowed as it emerged, snaking around her wand tip. Carefully, she deposited the memory inside a Pensieve, then placed it inside a drawer and locked it. Extracting the memory certainly wouldn't make her forget the day ever happened, but maybe it would dull its effects enough so that she could keep it together in front of the class.
She still couldn't quite believe she was going to attempt this so soon after the disaster last week. Snape certainly wasn't the motivating sort. That is, unless one counted the seductive voice, she thought with a blush. But his understated encouragement and instinctive understanding had given her the courage to attempt what she had never dared. Just in case, she had also pre-recorded today's lecture, which she could fire off with a flick of the wand if needed. The thought made her feel better.
Closing her eyes, she blocked out everything from her mind and focused on a wintry snowstorm, her anchor image for Occlusion.
The captivated silence that greeted her when she entered the classroom a few minutes later should have come as no surprise, she observed wryly. Strolling to the lectern with only a faint hitch in her breathing, she turned to look at the class. The rows of blank faces, the sensation of being scrutinized by dozens of intrusive eyes, all made for a nerve-wracking case of deja vu. However, Occlusion holding steady, she walked to the chalkboard and wrote, "Boil Cure Potion" with a flourish.
"Today, you will be making the Boil Cure Potion," she announced. She paused, noting her still-steady heartbeat and breathing. "The purpose of this potion is self-explanatory. If you've done your reading assignment for today, you would know that the porcupine quills should not be added until after the potion has been taken off the flame. Failure to follow this instruction yields results that are not pretty. You may all consult Professor Longbottom for more details," she said with a smile.
"Now, who would like to tell me why we use stewed horn slugs in this potion?
"Mr. McDonald?"
She closed her eyes for a moment. This was wonderful.
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Hermione was straightening the ingredients cabinet at the end of the class period, flush from her own success, when she saw Albus Potter appear in her peripheral vision. "What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?"
"Ma'am," he said softly, wringing his hands.
She looked up from scooping dried nettles when she heard the tremulous tones. "What is it, Albus?" she asked kindly.
"One of my housemates is in trouble." He glanced shiftily at the doorway, as if considering whether staging a quick exit were a better solution to his problem.
Hermione could think of twenty different possibilities, none of which were pleasant, so keeping her face neutral, she asked, "Yes?"
"Actually, one of them is in trouble, and another one of them is sort of helping them. Well, not helping him be in trouble, but helping him get out of trouble, but he might get in trouble for doing that."
Her mind spinning, and anticipating a protracted discussion, she sat down behind her desk and waved Albus into a chair. "Why don't you start at the beginning?" she sighed.
"Um, the friend, not the one who's in trouble, but the one who might get in trouble, can he come in, too?"
She rolled her eyes. "Why not, Mr. Potter?"
As if on cue, the classroom door opened, and to Hermione's astonishment, Scorpius Malfoy entered. Instantly, she recalled the stains she had observed on his fingertips and the ingredients missing from her stores.
Malfoy walked purposefully down the aisle, his expression taut. "Professor Granger," he said.
Hermione nodded to him and looked between the two students, waiting for further explanation.
"Scorpius didn't want to tell anyone," Albus blurted out. "But I told him he should and I convinced him to tell you."
"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy, she noted, had his father's poise but not the same calculating menace. "I've been brewing a restricted potion, ma'am," he said. "Wolfsbane."
Hermione jerked with surprise. Of all the possible potions utilizing valerian that she imagined errant students were brewing, Wolfsbane was at the bottom of the list.
"May I inquire why?" she asked.
Neither student spoke. Hermione's alarm increased as she sternly stated, "Malfoy, Potter, this is a very serious matter. I happen to know, as you've no doubt guessed, Mr. Malfoy, that at least one school ingredient has been illicitly procured for this potion. Now, the truth, if you will."
Malfoy walked up to her desk and lifted his chin defiantly. "A friend of mine in Slytherin was bitten. Over the summer holidays. It was a complete accident—he ran into a werewolf while he was vacationing in Hungary. He comes from a very... strict family and he couldn't tell anybody. He's afraid of being disowned."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Who?" she gasped, thunderstruck.
"We can't tell," Albus muttered. "We promised. The rest of the House would tear him apart. Not to mention... Headmaster Snape."
"You," she said, rounding on Albus, "ought to have known better. Does your father know?"
"Merlin, no! Why would we tell him?"
"A werewolf in the school! Taking potions brewed by a second year student!" she said, voice rising. She took a moment to force herself to calm. She was going about this all the wrong way—she didn't want the students to feel regret for confiding in her or conceal information for fear of retribution.
"Why did you come tell me?" she asked quietly.
Malfoy eyed Albus before replying. "Albus said you'd understand. That you'd done the same thing once, when you were in second year, with Polyjuice Potion."
"Merlin save me from Slytherins," she murmured.
"It's... it's getting harder to conceal, ma'am," Malfoy admitted in a low voice. "We... put him in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom the night he has to transform and give him the potion. We cast Silencio on him to keep him quiet. But we can't just keep standing around in the corridors to make sure no one goes in there. Albus borrows his dad's invisibility cloak sometimes to check up on him—"
Albus elbowed Malfoy, casting him a disgruntled look for further implicating him.
Hermione's hands went to frame her temples. "All right, boys, I've heard enough now. We are going to take a trip to the headmaster's. Who, I might add, is also your Head of House! This is out of my hands now."
"No!" they cried in unison.
She quirked an eyebrow.
"Professor Snape would expel us! And our friend, too!" Albus explained in a rush.
Even though it was entirely the wrong thing to say, Hermione couldn't help asking curiously, "And you believed I wouldn't?"
"Well... no," Malfoy said, cheeks coloring slightly. "Because of..."
She sighed in exasperation. "Albus, you are never to tell that story again to anyone in this school!" Returning to the matter at hand, she said, "Now, this is unfortunately something for the headmaster to handle." At their stricken looks, she softened. "You did the right thing, boys. Your friend could seriously endanger himself or other students. Professor Snape... will have everyone's best interests at heart," she finished, hoping fervidly that she was right.
Some minutes later, with the two students in tow, Hermione stood on the spiraling staircase leading up to Snape's office. They emerged to the sight of Snape sitting at his desk, head bent over a grimoire while scratching notes furiously with a quill. He glanced up when they entered, expression sour at being interrupted.
When he saw that it was Granger, Severus lifted his brow, his thoughts immediately straying to their last encounter. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, before Granger hurriedly presented her charges. Potter and Malfoy? Severus thought incredulously.
"Hello, Headmaster. I've brought you young Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. They both have some interesting information to share." She pressed the both of them into chairs.
The boys looked first at each other, then at Granger.
"Go on, now!" she prompted.
"Yes, I do not have all day," Severus snapped.
Granger, for some unaccountable reason, shook her head at him imperceptibly, a pleading look in her eyes.
Scorpius sat up straighter in a haughty imitation of his father. "Professor Snape, we have a werewolf in our midst," he began dramatically, evidently believing this to be his best opening.
Hermione huffed impatiently, while Snape leaned back and said in bored tones, "Do we really, Mr. Malfoy? Is that all?"
There was a tense moment of silence before Albus' expression turned into one of defeat. "Scorpius has been brewing Wolfsbane for him."
At this, Severus put down his quill. "You have been doing. What?" he demanded. "And who is this individual in question?"
"Please, sir! We can't say. He was bitten over the summer! Even his parents don't know. If the rest of Slytherin finds out, he'd be doomed!" said Malfoy hurriedly.
"So, am I to understand that a second year student has been brewing a Category Three restricted potion, giving it to a werewolf, who is unidentified not only to the Ministry, his family, but also the peers with whom he associates?"
"It's not his fault!" Malfoy said hotly. "He can't help being a werewolf! Sir."
Even Granger blinked at the impassioned outburst.
"Well, well. I am relieved to see that you at least are not as stupid as your father."
Granger looked disapprovingly at him as the blond boy flushed. "It doesn't get us anywhere insulting Mr. Malfoy's father, Headmaster," she scolded.
Severus ignored her and continued questioning the boy. "And were you actually certain you were brewing Wolfsbane and not poison?"
"I had a text," said Malfoy. "One of Father's. When I heard that... the friend got bitten, I tried to make it at home first and um... I paid someone in Knockturn Alley to test it on a werewolf."
Too overcome by fury to consider this latest twist in Malfoy's tale, Severus turned to the silent Potter. "And just how exactly do you figure into this?"
"I suggested Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, sir. That's where we put him when he transformed. And I used Dad's invisibility cloak to look in on him. Oh, and I convinced Scorpius to tell Professor Granger." The boy licked his lips. "Um... that's it."
Severus sneered. "Flouting rules already, just like your father. I stand corrected regarding the statement I made about your personal safety, Mr. Potter."
He took a moment to survey the boys one last time. Satisfied that he had obtained most of the crucial facts, but for one, he pulled open his desk drawer and held up an amulet of clear solution. "Either you will tell me who your associate is, or I will resort to... other means," he said.
"Professor Snape, no!" Granger shouted, inserting herself physically between him and the students. "They're just children, not to mention it's illegal!"
Hermione was horrified. She knew she shouldn't have hoped Snape would handle the situation in a sane, logical fashion.
"Do not interrupt me, Professor!" Severus said crossly. "This," he continued, gesturing, "is a potion that will reveal any werewolf, veela, elf, or anyone not fully human upon consumption. I may decide to simply slip some in the pumpkin juice."
Hermione's jaw dropped for the second time that day. "Not... Veritaserum?"
He glanced condescendingly at her. "No, Granger." Returning his attention to the students, he said, "If you prefer to reveal the identity of your friend during breakfast at the Great Hall, that is certainly your prerogative."
The two boys eyed the potion with fear. Malfoy shook his head frantically. "We can't sir. His father would throw him out on the streets!"
Severus drew a breath, attempting for patience he didn't have. "If you do not tell us and allow us to help him, he is as much a danger to himself as he is to others. You are, I'm assuming, pilfering ingredients from Professor Granger or obtaining them through some equally dubious channel. Vastly experienced as you may believe yourself to be, a second year student cannot possibly be brewing this potion correctly."
Malfoy merely shrugged.
"Do not doubt it, Mr. Malfoy," said Severus sharply. "For one, Wolfsbane requires the strength of an adult wizard's hand to stir during one of its brewing phases."
"Yeah, I kinda got Albus to help a little with that part."
Hermione cringed at this. She continued to listen to the exchange, pointedly remaining silent now. She wished now she hadn't interrupted earlier.
Severus met this latest communication with a glare. "We would be certain to give your comrade properly brewed potion. As for your concerns about the young man's parents, let me worry about that. If these parents are truly as you describe, chances are, we go back... a long way," he said with distaste.
Scorpius seemed to understand this quicker than Albus. "Do you promise, sir?" he asked, hesitantly.
To Hermione's amazement, Snape sighed and took out his wand. "You have my word, Mr. Malfoy. Wizard's oath."
The two boys looked at each other again. Albus scratched his head, then nodded, looking slightly flummoxed.
"All right. It's Goyle. Luke Goyle," Malfoy whispered.
"Ah. Mr. Goyle. Yes, I do see the potential for difficulty," Severus drawled.
They both adopted hopeful expressions at the appearance of sympathy.
"We are not yet done," said Severus, and their faces fell. "There is still the matter of your punishment."
Granger fidgeted.
"Something you have to say, Professor?" he inquired, lightly.
She flashed him a rueful smile. "Only that they did come to me."
"Yes," he said disdainfully. "After they stole potions ingredients, brewed a restricted potion without authorization, exposed their peers and themselves to mortal peril, and wandered the castle after curfew."
Potter and Malfoy turned quite pale.
"One hundred points each from Slytherin, and a week's detention. And Potter, a note to your father." Severus pronounced.
They both groaned, and Granger appeared chagrined.
"And for having the sense to finally inform an adult, exceptional potion-making skills, and admirable efforts to protect a fellow from persecution, fifty points each to Slytherin."
All three of them stared at Severus, uncertainty clouding their features.
"That will be all. I will send for Mr. Goyle at a later time."
The boys flew out of their chairs as if they had been shot out by cannons. "Th-thank you sir," they chorused.
Hermione stood by the door, shooing them out. "Get out of here before he changes his mind," she whispered.
After the students filed out the door, she turned and looked at him, expression unreadable. Then, to Severus' dismay, she burst into peals of laughter.
He had never seen her laugh before, not even when she was a student. The sound of it filled the room, and something about the uninhibited emotion rendered him temporarily speechless. Color bloomed on her cheeks and her beguiling eyes sparkled.
"Something funny?" he bit out at last.
"It's just... oh Merlin, wasn't that ridiculous? Second years brewing Wolfsbane! You making a Wizard's oath to a twelve-year-old."
Severus' mouth twitched. "Certainly bordering on the absurd," he agreed grudgingly.
He noted the purplish shadows starting to creep across the room. "It is past the dinner hour," he observed. "It seems Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter will have to endure missing their last meal for the day in addition to their extensive list of other punishments."
Snape closed his eyes briefly and in a flash, a dinner tray set out for two appeared before them. When he saw it, he seemed as surprised as Hermione. "It look like the house-elves have decided you are dining here tonight." He regarded her with a fathomless gaze. "Would you care to join me?"
"Sure," Hermione murmured, vaguely pleased. She settled into a chair opposite him. "So you sorted out this whole Wolfsbane business very well," she said with sincere admiration.
"I noticed you were not entirely convinced I could," he responded acerbically.
She smiled. "Certainly a grave error on my part, I admit. It was very kind of you to reassure Malfoy."
When he didn't respond immediately, Hermione thought she might have offended him, but then he took a sip of water and said quietly, "I know what it is like to come from a household such as Mr. Goyle's."
She waited for him to say more, fork suspended over her plate.
"Living in fear, constantly craving the approval of an abusive adult."
"Your... family?" she asked carefully.
Severus shook his head grimly, black hair falling before his face. "To call it thus would have been overly optimistic." She continued to look at him steadily, with no sign of censure or effusive sentiment. He found that he did not mind continuing. "My father was a drunkard who beat my mother, and occasionally, me. Though it became more difficult for him to attack me once my magic started to manifest."
His eyes were haunted in a way that tugged at Hermione's core.
"So. I am fully aware of the importance of discretion for Mr. Goyle."
She finally managed to place her fork upon her food. "What are you going to do about that?"
Severus' lip curled unpleasantly. "There is always a thing or two to hold over the head of a former Death Eater. Myself included. We find that we can easily convince each other to do things if we knock around long enough among the skeletons in the closet."
Her expression turned troubled. "Does that you mean you're..."
"Constantly in danger of getting visits from my old crowd? Unfortunately, yes, though most of the bottom-feeders come looking for favors. The death threats have decreased as the years have gone on." Snape's eyes hardened, his features suddenly twisting into those of the ruthless man he had once been forced to be.
He placed his napkin on the table and stood to walk to the window. He gazed out of it, seemingly lost in thought, as Hermione quietly continued with her dinner, knowing instinctively that he needed to be alone.
At length, he spoke, his voice sounding far away, "I was wondering, Granger, whether you would consider becoming Head of Slytherin House."
Hermione's eyes widened and she almost spewed her tea. "I'm a Gryffindor," she answered stupidly through a wheeze. She turned to face him.
"I hadn't noticed," said Snape sardonically. "Contrary to popular belief, there is no requirement that Heads of Houses be of the same House they oversee, though of course, that has been the tradition. I have responsibilities as headmaster that severely limit the time I can devote to my House. It is not an arrangement I'd like to continue."
Rising to join him at the window, Hermione said, "You don't think I would be too partial to Gryffindor?"
"Surprisingly, no. You were of course, not an obvious choice when you arrived, for exactly the reason you state. But..." Snape looked pensive. "You have considerable rapport with your Slytherin students. You appear to take interest in their affairs while they are in your classroom. And just today, you shepherded a pair of Slytherins through a complex situation with aplomb... even advocating on their behalf to their own Head of House," he finished with an actual smile. "Sometimes to the point of overzealousness."
Hermione heard all his points with pleasant astoundment, pleased that her efforts had been acknowledged. She frowned however, when a new thought struck her. "But I'm a Muggle-born," she pointed out. "In any other House, it wouldn't matter, but I'm not so sure..."
Snape's mouth thinned into a harsh line. "Does Mr. Potter appear to care? Does Mr. Malfoy?" He stepped closer. "When does this idiocy end? It is ten years post Dark Lord—Goyle still wants to evict his child for being a werewolf, and Scorpius, as well-intentioned as he believed himself to be, thought himself clever to test potions on one." He spun away to gaze out the window again. When he spoke, he did so with an undertone of weary hopelessness. "I have labored for over a decade to undo the toxic ideas that Voldemort, the Ministry, and sheer ignorance have instilled in this school. It's still not clear whether I have managed to make any progress at all. Slytherin House needs someone like you to helm it."
Hermione, feeling the warmth of compassion, respect, and a stirring of kindred spirit, reached out and took his arm. "Of course I will do it."
"Thank you," he replied, looking down at her.
As their gazes connected, heat sprang up between them, an almost familiar sensation now, quick to ignite. Hermione became aware of the feel of solid muscle beneath her fingertips as involuntarily, her grip tightened.
Severus drew an unsteady breath, his body responding to her sudden proximity. His hands, with a light touch made practiced from Potions, pulled her face close to his. He didn't understand why he continued to be drawn by her like a bee goes after honey. A mere brush of her fingertips had been enough to send his senses into overdrive.
"It is... much appreciated," he murmured as he ran his lips over her brow and across her nose. This time, he would not deny himself. Angling his jaw to the side, he captured her lips, a groan of contentment sounding in the back of his throat as he tasted them.
"Severus," Hermione breathed. She felt weightless as his arm came around her waist, pulling her roughly against hard, masculine chest. He kissed her, languorously, and she felt the burn of long dormant need.
His lips lifting a bare inch away from hers, he whispered, "Hermione. Stay."
As she sealed their kiss again, signaling her agreement, she said breathlessly, "Well, this is certainly more impressive than the Astronomy Tower."
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