Chapter 16 – A Favor Asked
Hermione struggled. The time between her departure from Hogwarts, and Christmas was difficult for her in more ways than she was willing to admit. Naturally she had trouble concentrating on her work. She was ahead again, but not as far ahead as she was accustomed to being by this part of term. Of course, no one had threatened to take away her scholarship or anything, so she didn't worry. The Masters were just as flattering in their correspondence as they had always been.
Ron had returned Crookshanks right after their trip to Diagon Alley. As she'd demanded, neither Harry nor Ron had mentioned her ordeal at all during their lunch. She'd been impressed with their restraint. After all, neither of them was known for following instructions. Conversation had been a bit stilted at first, but they'd all been so pleased just to be together, that they'd quickly moved past it. They talked of Quidditch, and Hermione found she didn't mind. They talked of Ginny, and of Ron's latest girlfriend, and even of the last few of Ron's mates that she'd rejected. She finally explained to Ron why she hadn't wanted to date them, and they all had a good laugh. It had been like old times, and afterwards Hermione had again felt cleansed. As though just being with her old friends could heal her. Upon further thought, she decided that it probably could, to some extent.
She and Ron had Apparated to the Burrow where a very affectionate Crookshanks had been sitting on the kitchen table, eyeing the exact spot of their arrival in the back yard. Hermione grinned. There was something very uncanny about her pet. She had missed him. She'd gathered up the cat and his basket (discovering that Ron hadn't brought the cat food, and had been feeding Crookshanks people food the whole time), said goodbye, and headed home.
Home was the problem. It wasn't that it seemed unfamiliar, after all she'd lived there since graduation. But several things had changed. The one that surprised her the most was the length of the days. She surmised that she'd been falling into a "state of grace" long before she'd realized it. The days seemed to stretch out interminably as she cleaned, or wrote, or researched, or brewed. Often she would look up at the clock expecting it to be lunchtime and find it was only ten o'clock. She began having a lie-in almost every day, as she seldom needed so much time to complete everything, and the flat seemed lonely.
A month after her return home, she visited her parents. She'd been dreading it since long before the reinstatement of her memories. They greeted her warmly, and said they were glad to see her looking so well rested. She chanced a glance in the upstairs mirror and found that she did, indeed, look better than she remembered. The circles that had seemed permanently etched under her eyes since her last year of school had faded. She supposed that now that she could remember the nightmares, and tell herself they were only nightmares, she was probably sleeping better, and certainly sleeping longer.
After a few days with her parents, she owled Harry to meet up in Hogsmeade. He was practically jovial with her, though he didn't indicate why. She allowed herself a moment of arrogance to think he might be pleased that she was out and about. They met in the bookshop, but ended up at Honeydukes, browsing the candy displays.
"Harry, did you tell my parents not to question me?" she asked abruptly as they pushed open the sweet shop door.
"Sure did," he responded. He didn't sound concerned at all about whether or not she'd be upset by his interference. This gave her pause. If he had sounded the slightest bit guilty, she would have been furious, but…..
"Thanks," she said quietly.
Harry turned to her and hugged her tightly. "Anytime."
Following that, Hermione found her nightmares diminished somewhat. Apparently the impending conversation with her parents had been troubling her more than she'd known. Now that she didn't have to worry about discussing her captivity with anyone, it seemed easier to deal with somehow. The heaviness in her chest lifted slightly, and life continued for her at a somewhat faster pace.
By December she was getting up early every morning, and the time flew by again as she studied, just as it had through all her years at school. Her flat still seemed inordinately quiet and lonely. She was far ahead in her studies again, however, and decided abruptly that it was time to start getting out more. She even briefly entertained the idea of having Ron set her up with one of his mates. She laughed to herself at this thought and shook her head. Maybe she was congratulating herself on her own stability too soon.
She was fixing herself lunch one Saturday afternoon, when a most unexpected letter arrived via Hogwarts owl. It read as follows:
Hermione,
Though I imagine you are rather surprised at my sudden correspondence, I hope you will consider meeting with me at a time convenient to yourself. You will not be shocked, however, to hear that I've an ulterior motive. In fact, there is an urgent favor I must ask of you. I hope you will contact me with alacrity. You know my schedule here at Hogwarts, so I'm sure any time of your choosing will be acceptable.
Severus Snape
Severus had chosen his words carefully, but still felt an unfamiliar sensation of guilt as he sent the owl. If she was not as stable as Harry had implied, then he was doing her a horrible disservice. He shook off the feeling and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. The missive was on its way. There was nothing further to be done now.
An answer arrived only a few days later. Severus was, by then, in the middle of class with his third year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. A dull class, to be sure, but at least not a dangerous one. The school owl winged its way over the smoking cauldrons (not necessarily a safe practice for a bird), dropped the letter and flew off again. Severus got the odd impression that the animal was holding its breath. Clever bird.
If the students were disconcerted to see their Professor accepting mail in the middle of class, they didn't show it. His Slytherins might have shown some interest, subtly. Gryffindors would have openly gaped. But the Ravenclaws were much too engrossed in their work, and the Hufflepuffs much too timid to pay him any mind. Hence he felt little guilt for seating himself behind his desk and opening the reply.
Severus,
Sunday evening will probably be the most opportune time to meet. Have you ever tried Muggle Chinese food?
-Hermione
At the bottom of the page was an address in London.
He had tried Muggle Chinese food. He stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long week.
She had preceded him into the restaurant, and was seated facing the door, clearly alert to everything that was happening around her. He didn't hesitate as he opened the door and walked towards her table. Hesitation might be misconstrued any number of ways, none of which would be profitable to him.
"Hello," Hermione said quietly as he seated himself across from her. She stifled a grin as he cast a deprecating glance at the not-quite-silk flowers that were stuck in a pot on their table. He removed them to the table behind him before returning her greeting.
"Hello. I suppose you are wondering what this is all about," he began briskly.
"No, actually, I was trying to decide what to order." It was only upon this statement that he realized she was holding an open menu. She picked one from the holder at the side of their table and handed it to him. "Do you have a favorite?"
He didn't, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He chose something, hoping he pronounced it correctly. She didn't laugh, and he counted that a victory. She only nodded and went back to her own deliberation.
Then, abruptly, she set the menu aside and signaled a waiter. They both ordered. When the short man was walking away again, and Severus was still looking in that general direction, she spoke. "NOW I'm wondering what this is all about."
She had an odd little half-grin on her face when he turned back to her. He took a deep breath. "Pared down to manageable proportions, this is about Draco," he began carefully. The little man returned with tea in handle-less cups, and left again. Hermione poured herself a cup, and some for Severus, and then sat back in her chair, honestly puzzled. What favor could he possibly be asking of HER on Draco's behalf? The man had everything. Clearly this wasn't a loan request.
Seeing that she would not interrupt, Severus embarked carefully on an explanation. "It seems his mother is in rather a lot of distress, and more and more it is becoming apparent to him that she cannot continue to live with the situation in which she finds herself." Here he paused.
"And what situation is that?" Having now seen a glimpse of where this conversation might be headed, Hermione sounded a trifle distant.
"She is a proud woman from an old family. You are aware that pureblood wizards are a very close knit society. Everyone knows everyone, and their business. She shouldn't have been surprised by the level of censure she encountered upon her return to England, but Draco tells me she is quite distressed by it. She no longer has any friends or relations, and certainly no influence. Her money is cold comfort to her now, when respectable shopkeepers won't accept it."
Hermione looked at him shrewdly. He had looked into her eyes throughout this narrative, right up until the comment about the shopkeepers. Then he'd focused his eyes somewhere over her right shoulder. She could see plainly that he regretted that last, and she knew exactly why. Lest he think she hadn't made the connection, she ventured a thought on the matter.
"That's the sort of world she wanted, isn't it? A world where a group of people are ostracized due to the nature of their relations?" She felt some gratification when he winced at her cold tone, but only a little. Above that she felt rather embarrassed. Was that her mouth condemning Narcissa Malfoy to the same purgatorial existence the woman had once wished on her? She resolved that she was better than that.
Severus watched her carefully, and noticed a peace creep into her eyes. "Perhaps. It is not an end toward which she labored, however." At Hermione's look of disgust he modified his statement. "I don't think she's ever labored toward anything at all, to be honest." This bought him a slight smile.
Their food arrived in little styrofoam containers. Severus grimaced a bit and picked up the plastic fork that had accompanied it. Hermione watched all this with some amusement. She hadn't chosen such an unusual meeting place for no reason. Such a place – where she was comfortable and he was out of his element – was the best place to entertain the request for a favor. They tasted their food in silence for a moment, and she watched surreptitiously as he took several hesitant bites, choosing first one vegetable, then another. When he had sampled each singular item before him, and finally begun to eat entire bites, she asked him to lay down his cards, so to speak.
"What is it that you want from me?"
So intent had he been on his food, the question took him by surprise. He took care to swallow decorously, and quickly thought over every possible answer to that question. If a few answers made their way into the list that had nothing whatsoever to do with Draco's situation, he stamped them out of existence to the best of his ability. In the end he decided that nothing short of the truth was likely to get him what he wanted. But he also decided not to just blurt it out. He leaned back in his chair, unconsciously assuming the same thoughtful pose Hermione had used early in the conversation.
"Lucius Malfoy knew I was a spy," he began carefully. He had begun to think of Hermione as a fencing opponent, rather than just a young woman with whom he was having a conversation. He watched her carefully. Her face was blank, and the mention of Malfoy did nothing to change that. He continued.
"He came to me in September of your 7th year to accuse me. We dueled." He stopped to pick up his tea and took a sip. It was already cold. He murmured a quiet spell and took another sip before setting it down again. "He wanted to know why, and how. He fired off questions as fast as spells, and I answered those I could. He never asked me what I'd told. He never defended the Dark Lord. And when he at last managed to separate me from my wand he stunned me and departed. We never spoke of it again."
There was a pause as Hermione ingested this information. She nodded warily for him to continue.
"It was clear to me from that time on, however, that he was sympathetic. Information that I had no cause to know found its way to my ears. When there was no time to position me for easy hearing, it arrived via anonymous owl, directly to the Headmaster. For a year, he spied for the Order, and his repayment was death, presumably at the hands of one of our own." He stopped again and looked at her carefully. She'd been staring at her food, but looked up when he fell silent.
"If he died by your wand, I need to know it right now," he said seriously. He hid his shock at his own audacity. He'd had no intention of demanding such information. Indeed, it was an unspoken rule among the members of the Order that questions such as this not be asked.
"I saw him only briefly during the fighting. I don't know his fate any better than anyone else." In spite of her annoyance over being required to think about these things, she was intrigued.
Severus nodded, then continued without further prompting. "You have it in your power to exonerate Draco's father, and reinstate his family honor."
Hermione looked at him mildly. She didn't want to discuss her captivity. As she wracked her brain, she could come up with nothing in Malfoy's behavior that would mark him as a member of the Order. He had smirked at her in that infuriating way he had, and taken Dolohov's wand before she could get to it. He'd only been there as a spectator, and to exert his authority –
Her reminiscing fell off abruptly and she looked up at her one-time professor. "My abduction was I his /I mission. Who else knew about it, besides the three of them?"
Severus had known she would eventually reach this conclusion. "No one," he replied softly. "Not a single other person had any idea where you were, or any access to the facility Malfoy chose."
