Hermione Granger gradually made her way through the back door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Tears blinded her empty brown eyes, but yet her feet carried her to the kitchen with ease. As she raised a dry sleeve to wipe her eyes, she noticed Harry standing in the corner of the kitchen, alone in the shadows.
He appeared infuriated, worried, saddened…a plethora of emotions, Hermione guessed. With hands crossed over his chest, he made no acknowledgement towards his wife to be, but instead placed his gaze on his worn-out pair of gray trainers.
Hermione paused to look at Harry, and then proceeded to take a seat on one of the chairs by the large and awfully shabby wooden table. She could hear faint voices coming from above. Naturally, the other Order members present that evening were in fact busy with Remus Lupin, who had been near death earlier this evening. Hermione inwardly wondered how her old Defense Agains the Dark Arts Professor was fairing. She wondered silently to herself if what she had done was enough for the poor man, if he would make it through.
Hermione sat quietly in the chair, and exhaled deeply through her nose. She carefully raised both hands to her face and slowly rubbed her hands over her eyes and cheeks.
She was exhausted. Emotionally and physically exhausted.
She closed her eyes tightly, opened them, and neatly folded her hands in her lap, staring at her belly that was straining ever so slightly against her somewhat taught sweatshirt. Although she had caring friends, family though not in the typical sense, and a precious life growing inside of her, she couldn't help but feeling alone.
Deceived and alone.
Harry would not look at her, or even acknowledge her. Snape had hidden information from both of them. The Order was most likely still upset that she had become pregnant and had developed a relationship with Harry. A wave of depression suddenly settled over the young witch as she pondered her current state. She exhaled once again, letting her thoughts get the best of her.
Just then, the back door closed with a soft click, and Hermione slowly lifted her tired eyes to stare at the black pair of shoes that belonged to the individual who graced their presence.
Severus Snape had entered the back door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
He stepped along slowly, purposefully, as he walked through the small dark hallway that led to the kitchen. He was skeptical as to how the pair would react when he revealed what he knew. Severus thought to himself that Harry would automatically be on the defense. If there were to be any trouble tonight, it would be from him.
To his relief, Harry and Hermione were the only two present in the kitchen at that very moment. Severus assumed that the rest of the household members were busing themselves with Lupin upstairs. For this, he was grateful. He would only have to explain himself and his actions to the parties involved, and would not have to be subjected to the scrutiny of the other Order members. If Harry and Hermione decided to divulge his explanation of current circumstances to the members of the Order of the Phoenix, they would be doing it on their own time.
And at their own discretion.
Severus scowled at the young, tired witch. He paused to glance at the Boy Who Lived, but Severus never received an acknowledgement, not even the slightest bit of eye contact from the boy. However this of course, was not unexpected.
Severus walked slowly to the head of the table. He removed his ebony cloak, placing it ever so carefully over the chair in front of him. He folded his arms, and stared at Harry while speaking for the first time since entering the house.
'I do not apologize, nor regret failing to reveal to you...information that has been divulged to me prior to current times,' the Potions Master began. 'Be that as it may, in light of certain...circumstances of this evening, you appear to have full right to know exactly what you are up against. Both of you.' he spoke, looking at the pair.
'Full right', Harry thought. 'Now we have a right? Did he fucking think we didn't have permission before?' Harry quietly scoffed at these thoughts, still refusing to make eye contact with Severus.
'What...what of the prophecy?' asked Hermione quietly, looking at the dust filled wooden floor, her voice cracking ever so slightly.
The Potions Master took a breath and began to slowly pace, addressing no one in particular.
'The Dark Lord, once made aware of Miss Granger's...condition, took immediate action to devise a plan. A plan that he had hoped would lead Potter to the Dark Lord single handed.'
The Potions Master stopped in his tracks, and stood still as he continued speaking.
'There was a prophecy made. Months ago. Before he had found out about the child. The prophecy was made, and just as soon as spoken…was leaked.'
'By whom?' demanded Harry, his brow scrunched as the anger flashed in his emerald eyes. Harry paused to take a seat on a chair at the other end of the table, opposite Snape.
'Wormtail,' Severus replied, staring straight into the emerald eyes that belonged to Harry.
A few moments passed. Hermione slouched back in her seat, right arm propped on the arm of the chair, and put her head in her hand.
She did not look at Snape. She did not look at anyone for that matter.
'What did the prophecy say?' she asked softly.
Severus paused for a moment and looked at the ground. He then looked up at her, seeing her head in her hand.
'If he takes the child, you will follow,' he said, looking down at Hermione. 'You will not care, who or what gets in your way. You will do anything...anything to get your child back. He believes that you may be...turned, if swayed. And he believes that it may ultimately lead Potter to him...to his death. In short...he is using your feelings, your emotions against you. Both of you.''
Hermione drew back her hand from her head. She scowled, and turned her head towards Severus.
'Turned?' she asked, with a look of anger and disgust. 'What the hell does he mean, turned?' she probed, feeling the heat of her anger rise in her throat.
Severus looked at her, focusing on her tired and angry blood-shot eyes.
'A Death Eater, Miss Granger. He believes that you will do anything for your child...anything that he wishes, which undoubtedly includes serving him in return for something in your favor…' he added solemnly.
Harry sat up straight.
'Well, if you think that Hermione would ever join...them, you're wrong,' he boldly stated, looking at his wife-to-be.
The Potions Master crept slowly towards Harry. With a scowl upon his face, he glared at Harry.
'Do not underestimate the Dark Lord, Potter. Most importantly, do not underestimate the mother of your child. You've seen her...you have seen what she is capable of, you've seen her lose control...' he added, looking sternly at Harry.
Harry stood up and faced Severus, standing just a few feet from the towering figure.
'She's strong. She's loyal...I would do anything to protect her! ' Harry shouted matter-of-factly.
'-And I am doing all in my power to protect you! The both of you!' Severus shouted, the anger boiling up inside of him.
He neared ever so closer to the Boy Who Lived, and with emotions and anger writhing inside, continued addressing Harry in the most deadliest of tones.
'You never did think, Potter, what could possibly happen if the two of you became involved, did you? And now the both of you have put yourselves in danger, and have endangered the lives of the people around you. Your arrogance, Potter, will be your undoing!' He bellowed, eyes narrowing to stare at the Boy Who Lived.
Really?' Harry shouted back, the veins in his neck starting to bulge as he continued to yell at the Potions Master. He quickly rose to stand, knocking his chair to the floor in back of him.
'Then why...why since you are apparently on our side...why did you decide to protect us in the first place…if you are so God damn angry with us, why even bother!?' Harry blurted, the words flying out of his mouth.
And without even thinking before letting the words seep forth, Severus Snape looked at Harry with the most deadly of looks, and replied:
'I cannot...will not have history repeat itself! ' he shouted, still staring with hatred at Harry.
Hermione bent over slightly, feeling her eyes prickle with tears. She couldn't take the yelling. The anger. The hatred between Harry and Severus.
'Please, just stop…' she whispered, a barely audible command that was evidently not heard by Harry.
'-history repeat itself? I'm sure you'd know loads about that, wouldn't you Professor!?' Harry stated, face reddened and anger in his eyes as the Potions Professor and Gryffindor squared off, feet away from one another.
And all of a sudden, in a split second, Hermione felt her own anger boiling up inside of her, exploding in her chest. A familiar type of anger that ruptured and couldn't be controlled.
'JUST STOP IT!' Hermione screamed at no one in particular, pulling her head out of her hands, gripping the arms of her chair and unconsciously digging her nails in the faded wood.
A loud crash was heard, and Harry and Severus focused their attention towards a mound of shattered glass that lay scattered upon the countertop. Red apples that were once held in a beautiful wide crystal bowl, now danced upon the counter, some falling over the edge, rolling about the planks on the floor.
Hermione sat ever so still, eyes closed, her breathing rapidly, barely audibly. Both Harry and Severus paused and stared at the young girl. Though the girl warranted comfort, Harry stayed put, not daring to draw near towards Hermione. The look on his face was not one of worry, or concern.
It was fright.
Harry stared at Hermione for a few seconds. Rather than continuing with an argument that would lead them nowhere, he instead spoke softly to the Potions Master, changing the subject ever so slightly for Hermione's sake.
'Was…wasn't it true that Wormtail died months ago?' asked Harry in a quiet voice.
The Potions Master scowled, and reached into his right hand pocket and withdrew a single corked vial, placing it directly in front of Harry, silently willing him to take it.
'-And this is all that remains,' he uttered in a low tone, staring at the vial.
At the sound of the glass hitting the wood table, Hermione picked her head up and looked at the vial, the contents a shimmery silver color, wisps like clouds swimming throughout. All of a sudden, it clicked.
This...this object right here, sitting on the shabby looking kitchen table in Number 12 Grimmauld Place... was indeed the prophecy. This vial sitting before her eyes, contained answers and revelations that they so desperately saught.
…But Hermione also had another thought brewing in her mind.
After all of this, after all that Severus had told them, after what she had done, wasn't it better to just let things be? Enough damage had been done; she and Harry heard what was needed to be heard. Why bother hearing or seeing any more?
After all, she thought, ignorance is bliss.
Isn't it?