Severus Snape was having a good day.
The rain was pouring and lightning hit the castle grounds in regular intervals, but the rowdy Scottish weather had little to no effect on his good mood. He had a day of hard work behind him, but today he felt more productive (and thus more satisfied with himself) than he had in a whole week. The major project of replanting some areas of the greenhouses with Pomona, as well as adding in a few newer, more exotic species than were usually seen there, went exceedingly well. Not many people were aware of the fact that each year during the summer Severus gives aid to the Herbology professor, providing oversight and giving advice on the care of certain plants that he has to heavily rely on from her greenhouses.
It took him most of the day to help a group of house-elves organise the saplings in front of the greenhouses that somehow got mixed up in transport from South America, and he spent the rest of the daylight hours teaching the elves the proper methods of planting the man-eating, poison-spewing plants.
But he didn't mind the work, not a bit.
Potions and Herbology – they were very similar disciplines that both required physical work and getting one's hands dirty, which suited him. One couldn't heavily rely on magic, and it took great skill and patience to practice both, so Severus found contentment in both of them.
There was also something to be said about teaching the free house-elves of Hogwarts.
He found it to be much more gratifying work then teaching the dunderheads he had to deal with for most of the year. They were patient with his explanations (no frantic hand waving like in some especially annoying students) and were always happy and thankful to learn something new. One has to explain or show something to a house-elf only once and they had already learnt it by heart; because of that Severus always found that the Wizarding world was indeed very lucky that the elves never harboured any ambitions to overthrow them. If it ever came to that, though, he would be willing to put money on the house-elves managing to do in one year what the Dark Lord was only trying to do in decades.
The storm caught them all as abruptly as a storm is able to catch one, but before they all hurriedly Apparated away, the elves fetched Severus an umbrella when the sky decided to open itself up above them and spew its contents on their heads. It was not a very necessary gesture, since he was just about to charm a shield from the rain for all of them, but he appreciated it.
If only the students were more like that. He would be less bitter and like his job a lot more if they were, he thought.
He was lounging in his living room on a sofa located beneath a large window that overlooked the Great Lake. The room was dimly lit as the summer sun hidden in the thunderclouds was in the process of setting. A forgotten book was in his hand. He was staring blankly at the raindrops that were hitting the glass, switching his attention occasionally to the view from the window. The surface of the lake was disturbed by the high winds and he could see lightning in the distance, but the storm had almost passed Hogwarts completely.
He felt tired, but in a good way, and he hoped that doing nothing but staring at nature would take away some exhaustion. He was at peace with himself for most of the day because he was too busy to think of anything other than the tasks he had at hand, but now his thoughts were drifting back to Albus and his condition, as they most often did in the last few months, slowly filling him with unease.
There were a few reasons that he was feeling as he was.
The first one was the fact that he wasn't the murderer of Albus Dumbledore; the second one was the fact that he should have been the murderer of Albus Dumbledore; the third one was the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, he still wasn't able to become the saviour of Albus Dumbledore.
He felt selfish from time to time and allowed himself to be grateful that Granger did what she did (it's not like he wanted to kill Albus), but reason itself told him that it would have been much better if she hadn't. Things would be progressing much faster if she hadn't. If things progressed like he and Albus planned, he would already have been one foot in the grave, much like Albus was now, but at least he wouldn't have been caught in the limbo in which he was now. Between trying to concoct an adequate potion for Albus (and miserably failing with every try) and enduring the Dark Lord's silent rage caused by the fact that he was still forced to be in hiding and working from the shadows instead of taking over the Ministry or something of the sort, he found very little time to sleep.
Or eat.
Or pretty much anything other than helping with the replanting of the greenhouses, and it seemed it was all going to be for nothing. Albus was still most likely to die a very painful death in a matter of months due to his cursed hand and then the Dark Lord would eventually emerge from the shadows.
Thus Miss Granger only delayed the inevitable.
"Severus?" an inquiring voice from the fireplace suddenly disturbed the silence of the room. It belonged to Dumbledore, who was having a far worse day than Snape was. He woke up just before the break of dawn feeling as if he hadn't slept at all, and spent most of his day trying his best to work in his office, even just for a little, while simultaneously trying to fight off nausea and losing consciousness. Then, as if to top it all off, little less then fifteen minutes ago he got into a fight in his office with a very dishevelled owl that seemed to be far too busy trying to dry and heat itself to remember her duty of lifting her little leg and handing over the letter which she was carrying for him.
Instead she just pecked at the poor man and refused to release the letter until he finally snatched it away once she turned the other side of her body to the fireplace in order to dry her feathers.
"Yes, Albus?" Snape answered, tossing his book to the other side of the sofa and immediately snapping his fingers in order to call Libby to his room. The little house-elf appeared in front of him for little less than the duration of a blink of an eye before immediately Dissaparating. Upon her arrival she noticed the headmaster's head in the fireplace and knew that her former Master called for her to fetch the tea and biscuits, so she didn't bother with staying to wait for the request and was in the kitchens before Snape even got an opportunity to open his mouth.
The headmaster visited her former Master quite often so she knew the drill by heart.
Such behaviour from her always made Snape click his tongue involuntarily, but that is how Libby always was; it was his own damned fault for not getting used to it by now. Though, one day he would wish for something other than the usual black tea he drank and the gingersnap biscuits he always had along with it, and that would be the day Libby would feel sorry for her cheek. Not that he would ever dream of administrating punishment; only that it would finally be her time to click her tongue in annoyance when he one day called her back to get him black coffee and a croissant.
"May I come through, please?" Dumbledore inquired, and even through the fireplace which muffled voices so very much one could hear that the man sounded sickly. They were lucky that his condition could outwardly still pass for a very nasty cold and they could only hope that the situation would remain the same until the opening feast in September when a speech would have to be made. It would be very bad news for all of them if the Slytherin children noticed that something more serious was going on with the headmaster and reported it to their parents. A rumour that Dumbledore was at his deathbed would have the potential of causing almost as much harm as Dumbledore's actual death would.
"You may," Snape answered.
Dumbledore came through the fireplace and into Snape's living room already dressed for bed and looking overtired. He was wearing a grey sleeping robe and a matching sleeping hat. Snape found it to be the worst possible choice of colour for him, since it went perfectly along with the ashy hue his skin started displaying a couple weeks ago. A Muggle would assume that the man was wearing Halloween zombie face paint, because no Muggle living could pull off not being immediately hospitalised with looking as Dumbledore did in that moment.
"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore said as politely as such a weary man could as he made a beeline for the large armchair opposite the sofa on which Snape was sitting. He sat down with a very audible sigh, befitting more for the occasion of finishing a marathon instead of going from one side of a castle to the other via the most convenient transportation method available in the magical world.
"A cup of tea?" Snape asked good-naturedly as Libby had just appeared before them with the tea tray which she set on the coffee table in between the sofa and the armchair, leaving after she gracefully bowed when the men thanked her. Dumbledore only nodded in reply and Snape began pouring. Immediately the room started filling with the sweet aromas the tea-leaves released.
On his face Snape had a mild, unguarded expression, not one people were used to seeing. He was wearing his usual black, but not the heavy, professional garments one would usually see him in; instead he was dressed in a Snape version of casual. He was still wearing pants and a turtleneck that looked at least semi-casual, and at least there was no cloak to billow around him menacingly. It was what the man looked like when there were no students or outsiders to Hogwarts to see him. There was certainly no need for a frown when he was just having tea with Albus, quite unlike when he was in Malfoy manor. There he always looked appropriately stoic, and though he allowed himself to laugh or smile at the occasional jest, there was certainly nothing unguarded about him when he was with the Dark Lord and his lot. It was no wonder that he preferred the headmaster's company to theirs.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said as Snape handed him his teacup.
"So, what brings you here past your bedtime?" Snape asked.
Dumbledore, as he was taking the first sip of his tea, was in the process of relaxing himself even deeper into the armchair, so much so that he looked as if he was going to start merging with the object. The armchair had a warm-coloured floral pattern (surprisingly, at least for something Snape would choose to decorate his home with) and the red of the roses contrasted with Dumbledore's ashy colouring so much that the man looked even sicker while sitting in it.
"I've had a letter that has only just arrived by owl," Dumbledore said and slowly pulled the said letter from his robes, giving it a little wave to make the parchment rustle as if to present Snape with the evidence.
Snape raised his eyebrows questioningly as thunder cracked in the far distance. A letter at this hour? And in this weather?
"I am quite certain that it arrived at least half a day later than it was supposed to, given by what time it is now and by the state of the poor owl that brought it. The poor animal was drenched through, having flown through this dreadful storm," Dumbledore said and lifted his eyes to look through the window before him at the thunderclouds that have already left Hogwarts and were charging at some other poor castle, village or town. "I don't think Miss Granger was aware of what weather we were having when she was sending it," Dumbledore sighed and looked down into his teacup, as if tiredly debating whether he should pick it up again or not.
As if hit with a jolt of electricity, Snape's back straightened arrow-straight, after which his entire body froze as if he was a soldier called to attention. He fought off the reflex to allow his eyebrows to shoot up at the mention of Hermione's name, but his intake of air sharpened. There was no need for the forced poise, though, since Dumbledore didn't notice the obvious change in his behaviour.
"Well?" Snape demanded, now with a frown on his face, since Dumbledore seemed to have forgotten that something should be added to what he previously said and lost himself in thought as he was staring at his half-drank cup of tea. Snape guessed that he was probably distracted by the swirling of the stray tea leaf that escaped the strainer and ended in his cup.
Like a child.
Though it took a long time for the damage of the body to catch up with the mind and damage it as well, now it has finally begun happening. How the mighty have fallen, a worse man might have gloated over the headmaster's demise. Snape, though, was a better man than that and felt sorrow and heartbreak at the sight, but he was also equally full of impatience and curiosity since he really wanted to know what was in the damned letter the girl had sent. Snape had to clear his throat loudly and clank his own teacup against its plate in order to attract the headmaster's attention once more. Dumbledore only blinked twice in recognition that something had happened, looking confused.
"Oh, where was I? Yes, the owl," Dumbledore said once he came out of his trance, the fog behind his eyes beginning to clear.
"Well, I let the poor animal rest in my office," Dumbledore continued. "I dried her with a spell, naturally, and fed her some of Fawkes's food after which she hopped up on his perch to rest by his side. He was a bit surprised at her action; I don't think he ever shared his perch with anyone before, but he didn't seem to mind her one bit. It was quite an endearing sight," he added and finally lifted his cup to take another sip of his tea.
"Albus," Snape growled, losing patience, "what was in Miss Granger's letter?"
"She wrote to me..." started Dumbledore in a flat tone of voice, either not noticing Snape's annoyance or ignoring it as he unfolded the letter in order to glance over it once more and remind himself what its contents actually were. "She wrote to me to ask for permission to visit Hogwarts tomorrow via the international Floo network from Rome in order to meet with you, if tomorrow would be convenient for you. She also quite apologetically asked for me to arrange a fireplace connection with the Italian branch of the Ministry, since it is within no one else's authority to do so," Dumbledore said.
"Rome?" Snape asked with an exasperated sneer, fixing his attention to the complicated route the girl has chosen to undertake in order to get to him – rather than fixing it on the fact that what he has impatiently been waiting for was finally about to happen. Later, when Dumbledore left, that would be the time for relief and frustration that he knew would simultaneously hit.
"Must be on a family holiday," the headmaster answered the query dismissively. It was no fuss for him to arrange what the girl asked for since the spell to connect fireplaces was neither hard nor complicated, so he was not bothered by that side of things.
"She further writes that you are expecting her," Dumbledore said and locked his blue eyes with Snape's whilst keeping a very pointed expression on his face, as if the tone of voice he used he let the unspoken accusation hang in the air wasn't enough.
"She hopes that we could arrange a pass for her at a time you would find to be most convenient," Dumbledore concluded and with another sigh let the hand that held up the letter fall into his lap. Along with weary, he now looked disappointed. "Severus. I have no problem with Miss Granger coming to meet with you or with arranging her passage, but since she has tactfully omitted the actual reason she is coming here, I am asking you now if you could perhaps tell me what this is all about?"
From Dumbledore's body language Snape could decipher that the man wasn't quite sure that he would get an honest answer to his question. The fidgeting was a tell-tell sign, in case the squinted eyes weren't enough. Snape didn't take the mistrust to heart, since he knew that the man was right to doubt him. The matter wasn't brought to his attention when it was supposed to, and even now he was thinking up a convincing lie to spare the old man further grief and worry.
But he knew he would have to tell Dumbledore the truth.
Miss Granger was on an obvious warpath and the fact that she didn't wait to get back on domestic soil and come to Hogwarts via a more conventional method told them both all they needed to know about the urgency of the meeting. There was nothing believable to tell Dumbledore other than how things truly were, so he reluctantly did just that.
"On the night of the Battle on the Astronomy Tower, after you had already decided to take a nap behind Miss Granger's shield, she saved me from having my jugular ripped out by Greyback and killed him in the process of it. I owe her a life debt for it. I can only assume that she is coming here because she finally decided on what she wants to claim as her payment."
People usually feel better after they get heavy things of their chests (such as secrets that should have been shared long ago), but after Snape said his part he only felt like he added an extra weight to his own burden. It pained him to see Dumbledore lean his head back against the sofa and close his eyes, releasing the heaviest sigh yet. He knew it was an extra weight for the headmaster as well; perhaps it was even heavier than it was to himself. From time to time, when Snape dived into the more honest parts of his mind, he could admit to himself that Albus most likely cared about his life and happiness much more than he himself did. Only occasionally did Snape acknowledge the love and affection Dumbledore held for him, but precisely because he was aware of how it hurt the old man to see another burden add itself to the overwhelmingly large list of burdens the man who was the closest thing he would ever have to a son, he was hurt as well.
"My boy, why didn't you tell me?" Dumbledore asked in the tone of voice that suggested that he believed something could have been done about it if he had been told.
"You have enough on your plate as it is. Whatever she will ask of me will only be classified as a nuisance, not as a legitimate problem. I can take it, whatever she throws at me," Snape said, making sure to radiate placid confidence in order to assure Dumbledore that everything was going to be alright.
He believed every word he said to Dumbledore, naturally.
It was beyond his imagination to make up a scenario in which Hermione would ask of him something that would truly unnerve him. If he had the power of Sight and had been able to peer miles away into the humid little hotel room in which Hermione was frantically pacing, knowing that life as she knew it was coming to an end and that the chances of having things go back to the way they were after she meets with the Professor were nil, it might have given him pause and made him reconsider his standpoint.
He would still have no clue as to what was going on, but at least he wouldn't be so damningly sure of himself. But he had no Sight to rely on. Instead, he chose to rely on his arrogance, which is why he was in for one of the greatest shocks of his lifetime when he finally finds out her plan.
"It is quite strange how these things work sometimes. With what happened that night on the tower one would expect that I would be the one indebted to Miss Granger and yet... here we are," Dumbledore said sadly.
"You were choosing to die that night. That is the difference. I had no choice but to die if she hadn't acted as she did," Snape argued.
Dumbledore found that to be debatable, but didn't want to start a row about it now. He was too tired. He agreed with Snape that he was choosing to die, yes, but he didn't want to die. That is where he found the catch to be.
"You will tell me what she asked of you, if the magic will allow it?" Dumbledore asked as he started the slow process of getting out of the ridiculously comfortable chair. He would have preferred to have just fallen asleep in it, knowing that Severus wouldn't mind, if not for the added backache he would have to endure when he woke up in it in the morning. About the matter of the life debt he already decided to worry as little as it was possible for him. There wasn't much choice for him in the matter other than to trust Miss Granger to know how to do the right thing in the situation she has found herself in. For both her own sake, as well as Severus', Dumbledore thought.
"Of course," Snape answered, grabbing the headmaster under his forearm and helping him get back up on his feet and walk back to the fireplace.
"What should I write her, though?" Dumbledore asked after he already grabbed a handful of Floo powder, almost forgetting that it was precisely for that bit of information that he visited his Potions master in the first place.
Snape paused in order to mentally go over his schedule.
"I have a new potion for you in the laboratory that will be finished brewing tomorrow around seven in the afternoon," he said and Dumbledore turned his face away in order to make a grimace of disgust. Some of the potions Snape made him drink tasted even worse than what he drank on the cursed little island, so the very idea of tasting Snape's new attempt made him cringe. "I won't be bothering you with it tomorrow since it will take it at least two days to cool, so tell her to be here tomorrow at...eight," Snape said, making up his mind. He would have preferred for her to come at the break of dawn so that he wouldn't be in the mode of waiting all day, but he knew it couldn't be helped.
Dumbledore nodded his head, hoping he would not forget what he was just told by the time he reached his office.
"Goodnight," he said, tossing the handful of Floo powder into the fireplace as he stepped in.
"Goodnight," Snape replied gently as he let go of Dumbledore's arm, hoping against hope that the man would actually have a good one.
I'm sorry that this piece was short, but I had to separate it from what will now be Ch7 since it is already on its way to becoming a behemoth. The curtain finally falls in the next chapter; does anyone have any guesses as to what Hermione's request will be?