Chapter 9 – And the Past Shall Haunt Them All

"No, Ron. I absolutely will NOT go out with another of your Quidditch buddies," Hermione hissed into her cell phone. She was late, and rushing through Diagon Alley to meet Ginny at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes before they had lunch and discussed Harry's upcoming birthday. Last year, everyone had been too caught up in the celebrations over the demise of Voldemort to do anything special. This year it was clear that Ginny intended to make up for it. Ron was also interested in the festivities, hence his offer, once again, to bring her a I date /I .

"Come on, Hermione, he's a great guy, you'll like him," the cell phone whined.

"Ron, your idea of a great guy is someone who's so focussed on Quidditch that after a year of dating, he'll not be able to remember the color of my eyes."

"Yeah, well anything's better than Malfoy!" Ron retorted angrily.

"Are you still on about that? It was a misunderstanding…on YOUR part!" Finally there was silence for a moment. It was brief, but precious, and Hermione felt herself smirk triumphantly. That was also brief.

"Tell you what," Ron said thoughtfully. "You have someone to bring by the first of July, and I'll stay out of it. I won't even hex him, I swear," he added pleasantly. "But if on July second you can't give me a name, you'll go with the person I choose."

Hermione thought this over quickly before disregarding the entire idea. "Sorry Ron. I'd rather go alone than with one of your mates. I listen to you and Harry talk Quidditch because you're my best mates. But I'm not going to subject myself to it from a potential boyfriend as well." She knew, by the time she'd finished, that he was angry with her again. It'd been this way ever since New Year's. Weeks would go by when everything would be fine between them, but then he'd try to find her a date, and everything would go wrong again.

The first time, she'd even agreed to go – just to placate him after the fiasco at Malfoy Manor. But it had taken all of 30 minutes (enough time for their food to arrive) for Hermione to decide that the Chudley Cannons' Seeker was NOT dating material. It looked to her as though Ron was giving lessons on dining etiquette to his new mates. Not that she would ever tell him so.

As it was, she'd been hard pressed to come up with a reason why she wouldn't see the boy again, but she'd put her foot down. That had been the first fight. She'd not given in since.

Ron was still silent. "Look, I'm almost to the twins' shop. I've got to go," Hermione said quietly. Still there was no response, though she could hear him breathing, so she knew he hadn't hung up on her. "You've got to quit worrying about me so much. I'll find someone when I'm ready, Ron."

"Yeah, alright," came the grudging reply. Hermione smiled. At least there wouldn't be three days of silence over this one.

"I'll talk with you later."

They hung up following chilled goodbyes, and Hermione raised her eyes to the latest optical assault that Fred and George had posted in the shop window. Squinting, she pushed open the door.


By the time lunch was concluded, Hermione had decided that Harry was going to have a rotten birthday, indeed. It wasn't that he wouldn't like the get-together Ginny was planning with her family, and their friends. It was the explosive mixture of personalities that was going to ruin it all. And she thought, sadly, that part of it was her fault.

Firstly, she'd asked if Ginny planned to invite Draco, which she hadn't. Harry had made a point to be kind to Draco since the middle of their sixth year, or so. Ginny had done no such thing. To the best of Hermione's knowledge, Ginny hadn't spoken to the man once since graduation. Impressive, considering how many times they'd been thrown together during various Ministry functions.

Ginny had scowled thoughtfully, and in the end decided that she'd better invite him. Hermione knew it cost her to do it, but she watched as Ginny carefully put the youngest Malfoy's name on the guest list. It was only after that was settled that Hermione remembered that Arthur Weasley would be attending and he was every bit as fond of Draco as he'd been of Lucius. Which is to say, not at all.

Moving past that issue, Hermione asked whether Ginny had been planning to invite Professor Snape, which she had. Upon seeing Hermione's grimace of distaste, however, Ginny put down the quill and pushed the paper away.

"Are you going to bother mentioning what exactly went wrong? The last I heard, you and he were getting on quite well over breakfast at the Cauldron with Harry and Malfoy."

Hermione bit back a sigh and glanced around. She'd been avoiding telling Harry about the argument she'd had with the Potions Master, not wanting to let that prevent them all from getting together. Still, it had been several months, and she wasn't feeling any better about the prospect of seeing him in July.

"The very first potion we attempted exploded," she confided in Ginny. She told her the tale in its entirety, faltering a bit over the part where she'd accused him of writing the ingredient list while inebriated. Ginny was in stitches the whole time.

Harry, however, sporting a guilty flush and staring at the plaque in front of the latest racing broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies, didn't think it was funny. "Finite Incantem," he thought to himself, ending the enchantment he'd placed on his wife's favorite earrings that morning. His plan, so carefully thought out, and so patiently unfolding, was in shambles already.

He made a mental note of the broom's specs, in case anyone asked him later what he thought of it, and pushed his way into the heavy spring air. The cloying scent of magnolias was wafting into the alley from somewhere. It was a decadent odor, and his eyes strayed toward Knockturn Alley almost instinctively, though the smell certainly couldn't be coming from there. The sorts of wizards who went into Knockturn Alley were generally not trying to use their magic to grow anything, particularly not anything pleasant.

He walked in the opposite direction from where his wife and friend sat at Florean's, and thought about what the next move should be. He knew that Ron was still pressuring Hermione about finding a man. Normally, he'd have dissuaded him, but in this case it worked well into his plan. As long as Ron was being so bullish about the issue, who would suspect that Harry was working in the background?

The answer to that, of course, was that Severus would, if he wasn't VERY careful how he approached him. For approach him he must, or he'd be running interference without his help at the party Ginny was planning.

As he thought, his footsteps took him where his eyes had been gazing, and shortly he found himself at the junction to Knockturn Alley. He grinned to himself and quickened his step. In spite of his aversion to fame, he very much enjoyed strolling Knockturn Alley. Eyes turned hastily away from him, and conversations quieted. Angry customers, arguing over obscene prices or poor quality, were suddenly silenced.

Yes, the very air felt menacing. They hated him, and he knew it. But not one of them dared approach him. For that matter, not twenty of them together dared it. And as they could hardly get along for a moment without the iron fist of Voldemort to hold them together, he had nothing to fear. And it showed on his face. He flitted casually into a few shops, not making any real effort to uncover Dark items, or shady deals. He caught a glimpse of Mundungus at one point, but knew better than to hail him. The shabby man turned his head, and pretended not to know him. If he'd done otherwise it would have gone badly for him as soon as Harry's back was turned.

He had a bit of a draw to danger – something Hermione had unwittingly accused him of years ago. "Don't you think you have a sort of I saving people /I thing?" she'd asked him once. He was now self-aware enough to admit that he did. It wasn't a complex he'd set out to acquire, but through the inescapable expectations of those around him, acquire it he had. Additionally, he missed the excitement a bit.

Thinking on this, he found his answer. THAT was a feeling that he knew Severus must share, though they'd never spoken of it. The adrenaline rush just before everything went haywire; the anticipation of victory; even the constant worrying over a possible defeat. Voldemort's death had left him both more and less valuable to the Wizarding World than he had been during the war. If he felt that way, he knew Severus must.

He took it on faith that it was THAT feeling which had caused him to seek a fight with Hermione. Suddenly he knew just what to say. He Apparated from the filthy shop he'd wandered into quite abruptly, unaware that the whole of Knockturn Alley breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Ginny arrived home to find him tying a rolled parchment to Hedwig's leg. "Go visit Severus, girl. Stay until you get an answer, but don't pester him," he cautioned. "You know how he gets. If you're quiet and good, he may even give you a treat."

Hedwig hooted dolefully as if to ask why she must go to a man whose treats were conditional. "Don't worry," Harry consoled her, petting her head affectionately. "I'll give you two when you get back, just in case he's all out." The bird rustled her wings, apparently appeased, and flew off into the settling fog as Harry chuckled to himself.


"There has been no opportunity, Draco," Severus said wearily. "Nor much hope of success. I have spent most of my life in seemingly fruitless struggles. Could you give me a moment's peace?"

Draco had never possessed a great deal of sympathy for anyone. "But your struggles weren't fruitless. Everything you did turned out just so, didn't it? If anyone can do it, you can."

It was an old conversation. From the moment Draco had learned of his father's death, he'd been after Severus to help clear the man's name. In addition to Lucius' reputation being bad for business, he knew his father had continued to follow the Dark Lord out of a fear that his family would be killed if he did not. It was certainly a valid fear, as several Death Eaters had defected, and their families had been slaughtered mercilessly. Severus knew this as well as any, and didn't appreciate the reminder. He made no move to answer.

"He confronted you about being a spy nearly a year before the Dark Lord fell, and you admitted it. He never betrayed you. He even helped you, when he could do it discreetly. The Headmaster told me as much. You could put the thoughts in a Pensieve, or offer to take Veritaserum, or – "

"You are not thinking clearly. A Potions Master: offer to take Veritaserum? Do you believe for one moment that anyone would trust the outcome of THAT interrogation?" Severus stood from his chair, pushing it back slightly, but silently. He noticed that Draco waited quietly as he went back to the bar and ordered another drink. As a reward, he brought one back to the table for Draco as well. "For 20 years I kept the anti-serum in my system, 24 hours a day. I am now immune to the stuff. Even I cannot brew a batch strong enough that it has any affect on me whatsoever."

A silent moment passed between them. "He is dead, Draco," Severus said finally. "You are not. I suggest you begin thinking about your life, and doing what you can to repair the family name."

As was always the case, the conversation ended there. Yet Severus knew it wouldn't be the last he heard on the issue. He suppressed a sigh and finished his drink. It was time he did something about it. He knew he owed Lucius that much.

The problem was, it wouldn't be easy. Particularly not now that he'd alienated the person who, he suspected, could provide the testimony they would need.


Hermione woke to find that the fan in her flat had shut down. Stifling a curse, she groped for her wand on the bedside table, and propelled the thing by magic. She had to wonder what was going on – this was the second time in three weeks that she'd lost electricity in the middle of the night and awoken in a tangle of sweaty sheets, having become much too hot with neither air conditioning nor fan to cool her.

Even Crookshanks had deserted the bed in favor of the cool linoleum of the kitchen, as she found out when she made her way there for a sip of juice before going back to bed. She tripped over him and fell hard, only just catching herself against the counter. This time she cursed in earnest. Crooks only yowled and headed back to the bedroom. She poured herself some juice and went back to bed, ignoring the nagging sensation that she'd had a nightmare.

It was only as she fell asleep again that she began to remember what she'd dreamed, and she shook herself awake again. i Another sleepless night, then. /I She lit several candles, and her wand, and picked up the most recent book her mail order university had recommended she read, glad that her wakefulness had driven her dream from her mind so completely.

The mail order university missive had arrived via owl the day her N.E.W.T.s had been made public. Harry had laughed, remembering Filch's packet of correspondence magic course information, but Ron had been awed:

"Of course, I should have realized you'd get one but, just, WOW!"

"Alright, Ron, what is it, exactly?" she had asked, holding the garish advertisement sideways to read the bits that had turned vertical on the page.

Ron struggled for a moment. "A long time ago, wizards – and witches – who were really good at Hogwarts would apprentice themselves to Masters in their chosen fields. But it was a really corrupt system. Masters would use their apprentices as slaves, or for experiments. At some point the Ministry got involved and passed a law that said that a Master and Apprentice couldn't ever actually I meet /I one another. It kept things from getting out of hand, you see." He paused. Hermione was looking incredulously from him to the glittering parchment. "No, really," he said, trying to be reassuring.

Naturally, Hermione had checked up on all of it with Professor McGonagall. Outlandish as it had seemed to her, it turned out to be true. A group of Masters in Potions, Charms, Divination, and even Minerology – a class Hogwart's hadn't offered, and one that was crucial to advanced Potions – were inviting her to study with them via Owl Post. Minerva had advised her to haggle a bit over the yearly tuition, which she'd done.

And now she was earning her new titles in both Potions and Minerology. She'd been horrified to discover that they expected 7 MORE years of study before that level could be reached, but she'd doggedly begun the project in spite of that. She intended to finish them both in that time.

Tonight, however, the new Minerolgy text, u Sticks Vs. Stones: A Study in Comparative Stability /u did not fascinate her as it normally would. She thought back to the previous power outages. She'd never bothered to check with her neighbors, since it was so late at night. But she suspected now, having realized that she was dreaming, that it was her own magic that had caused them. Not until she was settled would the lights come back on. Stretching her neck to the right and left, she replaced the book on her bedside table, and doused the lights again. She didn't wake again until morning.