Chapter 17 – Relapse
Hermione continued to stare at Severus for some time. Unnecessarily, she clarified. "There was no one else with access to that room?"
He only shook his head in silence.
Hermione thought back, to the day she'd left Hogwarts. She had never unpacked the bag of items that she'd taken with her that day. The book that had mysteriously appeared on her bedside table was still in that bag, along with her clothes, and a toothbrush, which she had replaced rather than unpack to use again. One other item was in that bag – one thing that wasn't hers, but had responded to the spell as if it was – the wand that had been pried from her bloodied fingers upon her arrival in Diagon Alley. She had taken it with her as she packed the night of Harry's party, thinking it might help her to deal with the memories. In the end, she hadn't so much as looked at it.
If it could be proven conclusively that the wand had belonged to Lucius Malfoy, then at the very least, aspersions could be cast on his infamy with the same heat that they were cast on his character. The ambiguity would probably be sufficient to return his widow's social standing to the "vaguely respectable" range, at least.
As she thought she began, unconsciously, to shake. She remembered the sneer Malfoy had given her as he clutched Dolohov's wand in his fist. What sort of look had it really been? Had he been trying to tell her? Did he fear that she had not already found it? Her eyes dropped closed as she remembered.
It wasn't until tears began to trace their way silently down her cheeks that Severus intervened. "Hermione?" he began softly. Her eyes snapped open, and the shaking stopped abruptly "You need only issue a statement on the matter, and provide the wand, to reopen the inquiry. I will testify. It will be enough." He didn't mention to her that Draco would probably have to provide a few thousand galleons to MAKE it enough. It was immaterial. Very suddenly he realized that the only thing in this situation that mattered to him from this point on was her comfort in the matter. Unfortunately he was in no position to guarantee that. She stood.
"I will owl you the statement and wand within the week," she said quietly. There was an odd timbre to her voice, of which he took note as he stood.
In an incongruously formal gesture, she held out a hand for him to shake. He did so, and she made her way to the door without another word. He sat back down, wondering just exactly what he'd asked of her.
He struggled with the question for a few hours as he made his way back to Hogwarts. Two unexpected surprises were waiting for him when he returned, but he didn't find the second until long after he'd dealt with the first.
Ron Weasley was seated on the dungeon stairs, facing away from Severus as he approached his office. Lost as he was in self-censure, it was about the most unwelcome sight he could have imagined. He took a solid minute to fortify himself for the battle to come before speaking.
"Weasley. I presume you are awaiting me?" he asked scathingly, taking some small amusement in the startled scuffle as Ron stood and turned.
"Bloody right I am. If you wouldn't mind, I think we ought to talk in your office." Ron's voice was cold, but not overloud. Severus found himself surprised in his turn. Discretion was not a trait he would ever have listed in an description of Ron Weasley's character. Of ANY Weasley's character, for that matter. The obscenity he ignored.
"Right this way," he replied dryly, brushing passed the younger man and leading the way, though he knew they were probably equally familiar with the location of his office. He didn't bother trying to reach his desk before entering into this conversation. Although it would have certainly given him some emotional advantage, he had an unhappy feeling that he knew what this was about, and considered the handicap a penance of sorts. Besides, he hadn't the time. As soon as the door closed behind them, Weasley started in.
"I don't know what you said to her, but she's a mess. She was doing so WELL! How could you possibly justify – " Ron stopped short as Severus raised a hand. It wasn't so much the familiar gesture, which he'd seen more than once in class, as the look of comprehension on the man's face.
"She didn't discuss with you what I asked of her?"
"She didn't speak at all. She only cried." The clipped tone he used was more a result of his concern than anger. He'd wondered for quite a while if choosing not to talk about her experiences had kept her from dealing with them properly. He'd been able to confide in the Headmaster concerning his own difficulties. Hermione had gone to no one. "I finally had to give her some dreamless sleep draught to get her to quiet down. And then she just went to bed. I'm not leaving here without some more potion, either," he added defiantly, just as his voice had started taking on some semblance of normalcy.
Severus took in the changes in his tone in silence. Weasely was certainly angry, but not necessarily at him. He thought hard for a moment, unaware that he was pursing his lips until he saw anger overcome Ron's face again. He relaxed his own expression and abruptly turned and retrieved a week's supply of the potion in question. He packed the bottles into a box and set it down on his desk, but still did not retreat behind it.
"I asked her for the wand, and a statement that the case against Lucius Malfoy should be reopened. She agreed." He offered this information knowing that Weasley was aware of Lucius' involvement with the Order. It was one of many pieces of information he'd learned from Fred and George, who had learned it from Bill, whom Severus had told himself. The lackadaisical treatment of information had bothered him at the time, but it had been very carefully kept within the Weasley family. For all their faults, Severus knew them to be painfully trustworthy.
The young redhead looked appropriately shocked for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and pursed his lips in much the same fashion that Severus had done a moment before. "I'm going to have to make her talk, then. I was hoping that if you upset her that much, maybe you made her work her way through some of it." He looked up again. "She needs to."
"You are better suited to such a task than I by both temperament and relationship, I should think," Severus said, smirking. His opinion of the necessity of such a course was neither offered nor requested. Ron looked at him oddly for a moment.
"You know, when Harry first decided you were all right, I thought he was going barmy."
"Harry made me aware of your thoughts on the matter."
"Was it you who made him blackmail me to talk to him again?" Ron asked, a little amazed with his own audacity. He'd often wondered it, but hadn't ever dared broach the subject with Harry or Snape.
"One day the two of you were not speaking, and the next you were. I was never offered any explanation as to how it came about," Severus replied, his tone one of dry humor. His smirk hadn't faltered. This would be a bad time to reveal that he had learned of the nature of that blackmail only within the last year.
Ron nodded in response. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "Thanks for the potion, Snape," he finally said, abruptly sticking out his hand. Severus looked at it a moment.
"Severus," he replied, indicating that the boy ought finally to call him by his name. For his trouble, Ron flashed him a grin that was at once charming and triumphant, as they shook hands for the first time in all their acquaintance.
"Then, call me Ron," he replied. At Severus' stiff nod, Ron picked up the box of potion bottles and let himself out, feeling inordinately pleased with himself. It had taken a few years, but he felt as though being recognized as an adult by Severus Snape was a rite of passage he had previously been denied. He shook his head, knowing that if Harry, and then Hermione, had never made friends with the old bat, he wouldn't have cared to either. He headed back to the Burrow, where Hermione was out cold in his bed, wondering what he was going to tell his mother.
Ron tried over the course of the next several weeks to draw Hermione out of her renewed misery. She stayed at the Burrow only long enough to thank him for the potion, thank Molly for letting her rest, and thank Ginny to please stop asking so many questions. Then she Apparated back to her flat, followed swiftly by Ron. As he'd recently lost another girlfriend, he was available to spend every waking moment with Hermione, which he did. Harry, too, made daily appearances. Both men watched dejectedly as owl after owl dropped off assignments and letters that were read and disregarded by their silent friend.
Hermione neither cried, nor spoke of anything weighty during those three weeks. Finally, Ron took Harry aside.
"This isn't working, mate," he said solemnly. They were walking from her flat to the Apparation point (Ron having learned the hard way not to Apparate or Disapparate from her flat), as Harry did each afternoon to return to Ginny.
"I really thought that when I told her about the baby, she might at least crack a smile," Harry replied dejectedly, shaking his head. He told himself that Hermione's lack of interest in Ginny's newly revealed pregnancy wasn't personal – that she just had a lot to deal with. But he had to admit that her sterile congratulations had hurt a bit.
Ron only shook his head. He wasn't very good with women, but he was a strategist, and as such he knew that timing is paramount. Just now it was clear that Hermione wasn't able to examine any situation but her own, much less take pleasure in another's happiness. It had been a bad time for Harry to introduce the subject. It was at this point that Ron said the one thing that Harry had never imagined he would say, thereby bringing up a concept Harry himself had long since allowed himself to forget. "The only person she's going to talk to is Severus," Ron whispered, looking around shiftily. "Thing is, I don't know how to get them together without being – you know – obvious."
Harry stopped walking and turned toward his childhood friend, blinking as though the sun had just come out. "Severus?" he asked wonderingly. Ron had never referred to the man as anything but Snape , or on rare occasions when Hermione had forced the issue, Professor Snape, derogatory emphasis on Professor. To hear him utter Severus' name without any venom at all was a bit like being doused in chilled bubertuber puss.
Ron continued to look a bit sheepish. "Yes – er – he and I had a talk, and –" he shrugged inelegantly. Harry grinned, and let him off the hook. He could find out what had taken place from Severus at a later date. He had learned to bide his time.
"Just leave it to me, mate. I'll get them together one way or another." They traversed the rest of the distance to the Apparation point in silence, and shook hands before Harry headed home. Ron heaved a weary sigh and went back to Hermione. She would need to eat soon, and it was this time of day that she often began to shake for no reason. He wanted to be there to comfort her, though he was becoming more convinced daily that he was not the man for the job after all.
Harry was visibly stressed when he arrived at home, but the sight of Ginny, belly just beginning to convex, seated before the green flames of their fireplace chatting with her mother, brought a smile to his lips anyway. He kicked off his shoes at the door, and came over to seat himself beside her, carefully ignoring the knowing look that passed between mother and daughter. Ginny forced herself not to laugh at the disbelief on her mother's face. Luckily the time of their bet had already lapsed.
"And how is Hermione?" Molly asked abruptly, obviously jumping to the topic due to his arrival. Harry had only a split second to decide. He chose to go ahead with the plan he'd come up with while walking with Ron.
"Quiet," he responded wearily. "She won't say a word to Ron or I. The only person she's ever talked to about any of it is Severus." He propelled himself up from the floor to pace behind Ginny, ignoring the concern on both women's faces. Ginny watched him carefully. Molly Weasley only shook her head.
"He may be the only person alive who suffered more than she did at the hands of the Dark Lord," she observed. Harry privately thought that his mother-in-law had no idea what all either of the people in question had suffered, but was pleased that she seemed to be catching on so quickly. He waited another moment, hoping she'd take her observation to the next logical step. There was only silence, however, until Ginny spoke, still looking at Harry with an alarmingly discerning gaze.
"You should ask him to speak with her," she suggested. Her voice sounded hollow, as if she knew what his answer would be. As if she knew the game, and had decided to play.
"I already imposed on him to speak with her once, while she was still in the hospital wing," Harry said immediately, flashing his wife a grateful, but appropriately sad smile.
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed immediately.
"No, really," Harry insisted. "He doesn't appreciate feeling like he's being used. If only he could hear about things some other way, I bet he'd make an effort. I don't know if she'd talk to him about it again, though."
"If she did once, she will again," Molly said sagely. "You just leave things to me."
They all said their goodbyes quickly, and the green glow of the flames disappeared, bathing the room in normal orange firelight. Harry took a moment to admire his wife's flaming hair before noticing the expression on her face. This little game was going to cost him, as he had known it would from the moment she spoke.
"Is this what you've been after all these months?" she asked abruptly. Then, the disbelief fading as she became convinced by her own memory. "Malfoy's New Year's party – YOUR birthday party – you've been playing matchmaker all year, haven't you?" Her accusation didn't catch Harry off guard. He'd been thinking fast even before Mrs. Weasley's head had disappeared into the flames. He was careful not to lie.
"Matchmaker? You mean, trying to get them to DATE? Can you honestly imagine Severus as anyone's boyfriend? Ginny, I want Hermione to have someone she can talk to. Ever since I found out about her abduction, I've been hoping she would open up to somebody. Clearly it isn't going to be you, or me, or Ron. So why NOT Severus?"
To this Ginny had no answer, but she sputtered a bit before grasping onto: "They can hardly speak without fighting. I told you what happened when they tried to research that new potion!" Indeed, she had told him bits and pieces of that story, after much persuasion, but he had gotten the whole story by more covert means long before she'd been cajoled to spill the beans. It had left him with a very clear impression that Severus cared more for Hermione's opinion of him than even Severus was aware. The whole episode had only solidified Harry's resolve to lead them toward one another.
Harry didn't even respond to this outburst. He just smirked a little. Ginny, however, was not fooled, and was truly upset. "Harry, she's going through hell right now. How can you possibly be thinking about her love life? Do you know how long it was after Riddle, before I could even think of – "
Ginny stopped talking abruptly, horrified at what she had almost said. She'd been only 11 years old, and as memories of her misdeeds had begun to make their way back into her consciousness, she had gone to Professor McGonagall. Her Head of House was the only person in whom she had ever confided, and she had meant to keep it that way. With the Professor's help, she had worked past all that had happened to her, slowly, over the course of several years. To her shame, she had used several boyfriends cruelly in that time, but she had done what was necessary to heal herself, and in the end, they'd all forgiven her.
Harry, older, wiser, and more observant than he had been in school, forced his face to show nothing at all – a trick he had learned from Severus, but rarely employed. He gathered his wife into his arms without comment. He was aware that she'd not meant to bring up such a topic, and he had vowed years ago never to ask her what had happened that year. Until she offered information, he would never request it. The case was closed, and neither brought it up again.
