Chapter 15: Policy of Truth

Severus was turning the sausages on the grill when Hermione knocked. He waved his wand to open the door and called, 'Enter! I'm almost ready.'

She walked in and left her satchel on a chair.

'Where do you keep your dishes?' she asked.

'You are my guest; you don't need to set the table. Sit down.'

'You are being nice and cooking dinner for me. I can help.'

He turned around and brandished a fork at her mutinous expression.

'Sit down, Hermione. And I am not…nice,' he sneered. She only smiled at him and extracted a bottle from her bag.

'All right. But I brought some wine.'

Severus winced and her smile faded.

'We don't have to drink it. I just thought I'd bring something.'

'Thank you, Hermione. The problem is that I drank a bit too much last night. Go ahead and open the bottle, I'm sure a glass of wine with dinner will not do any damage.'

Her lips quirked but she mercifully kept her silence and pointed her wand at the cork. He didn't want to explain the reasons for his alcohol indulgence.

He turned off the heat and served the sausages together with some fresh cheese and tomatoes. It was a simple meal, but it was all he could manage on short notice. Then he produced two wineglasses and sat himself across from Hermione. He poured the wine and held up his glass.

'To new beginnings.'

She raised her own glass and he noticed her hand was trembling, but her voice was firm when she repeated, 'To new beginnings.'

Hermione tucked into her food with relish that made his eyebrows rise.

'Have you eaten at all since yesterday?'

She almost choked on a piece of sausage and flushed bright red.

'Um, no. You were right, I didn't feel hungry until an hour ago, but now I'm positively famished. I'm sorry; I'm probably channelling Ron's table manners.'

At that, he couldn't help but laugh.

'I assure you, I have observed students eating in the Great Hall for fifteen years. Ronald Weasley is truly one of a kind and you could never rise to his level.'

They finished their meal in silence and Severus cleared the table, despite Hermione's protests. He poured her another glass of wine, glared at her for good measure and dumped the dishes in the sink. He could clean them with magic, but he liked the caress of warm water on his hands and the feeling of soap suds between his fingers. Besides, it gave him time to compose himself before he faced Hermione again. Hermione with the bright eyes, Hermione with the translucent skin that seemed to glow in the firelight, Hermione, whose lips were stained by the red wine and looked more inviting than ever. A tendril of hair fell into his face and his hand were soapy, so he tossed it back impatiently. He felt her eyes bore into his back. She was watching him. He rinsed the last plate, wiped his hands with a towel and made to roll down his sleeves. There, barely visible on the pale flesh of his left forearm, was the shadow of the Dark Mark. His hands stilled and he turned sharply towards Hermione. She met his eyes defiantly; there was no pity or revulsion there and that made him feel better. He didn't know if he could handle it coming from her.

'You don't need to cover it for my sake,' she said softly. He pondered telling her that it wasn't for her sake, but decided against it. Maybe it was time he got used to looking at it. Short of flaying the skin off his arm there was no way to remove the residual scar. He sat on his chair and topped his glass, Hermione's eyes following his every movement. He found it unnerving, but not unpleasant. People usually avoided looking at him. He glanced at her and the sight made him smile. She was pulling on the collar of her dress, the other hand twirling the wineglass and he was willing to bet that her foot was twitching beneath the table. Her jaws were clenched and he could visualize the question trembling on her lips and the force she was using to restrain herself. It was actually quite adorable and the thought made him wince. He hadn't known that the word 'adorable' was in his vocabulary without sarcasm attached in some way. He sighed and extracted the wine glass from her fingers before it lost its precarious balance.

'Hermione, please stop fidgeting and ask the damn question already!'

She flushed and shook her head.

'I promised that I wouldn't pester you with questions. I stand by my word. I won't lie to you; every time we meet there are a million things I want to ask. However, a promise is a promise.'

'I noticed that you have learned to temper your curiosity. However, I invited you to ask me about whatever is bothering you. I can't promise that I will answer, but I will try my best.'

Hermione took a deep breath and decided to take her chances.

'Why did you join the Death Eaters?'

Severus' expression froze and she wanted to take the words back, but then he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

'A personal question indeed, but I believe you deserve an explanation. You must understand that Tom Riddle during his first rise was a very different person, if you can call him a person at all. He was not the serpentine monster you remember. He did not engage in open warfare, at least not in the beginning. His methods were much more subtle.' Severus grimaced at the empty wine bottle and summoned another from the pantry. He filled his own glass and motioned towards Hermione's. She nodded.

'He collected people in a way much similar to Horace Slughorn. He wanted the wealthy purebloods with funds to support him, so he preached pureblood supremacy. He wanted the ambitious ones and he offered them power. He wanted the smart ones and he offered knowledge. He wanted those inclined to the Dark Arts and he gave them the opportunity to use them. His only true ambition was to rule over Wizarding Britain and to have everyone under his thumb. However, we did not know that. All we saw was a handsome and charismatic man who had great influence and could offer you your heart's desire on a platter. You need books? Suddenly you have access to the best libraries. You need ingredients? You get them and you don't question where they came from. I did not agree with the pureblood nonsense, but he did tell me that he was deceiving the wealthy aristocrats to get to their money. Being young and naïve, I sniggered behind their backs. I suppose that he told them that he used a lowly half-blood such as me only for my potions expertise. He played us all against each other like fighting dogs, while he held each and every leash. The most pathetic part was that nobody realized there was a leash. Dumbledore had always been wary of him and at one point began to oppose him openly; that made Tom show his true self. The attacks began; on Muggles, on Muggle-borns and on everyone who opposed him.'

'I held a deep distrust for Muggles. My mother was a witch and my father was a Muggle. I don't want to go into detail, but he was not a very good man. I had always craved power; not power to lord over the others, but power to protect myself. I wanted knowledge; the Dark Arts fascinated me with their moral ambiguity. I was a young, cock-sure git and I thought I could join the Death-Eaters, take what was offered to me, and then walk out. Very soon I realized my mistake but it was too late. Lily tried to warn me, as well as Vesna. I was blinded by Tom Riddle's praise and paid dearly for my hubris.'

He stopped talking and stared into her eyes, as if awaiting her judgment. Hermione smiled sadly.

'A lonely child with no friends; thirst for knowledge; constant need to prove to yourself and to the world that you are worthy; craving the praise of your peers and your superiors…Severus, do you realize exactly how well I can relate to that?'

His eyes widened and his jaw worked up and down, apparently lost for words. Then he smiled ruefully.

'When you put it this way, I suppose I do. Yet you never made the mistakes I made.'

'Severus, listen to me very carefully. While you were describing your early days at the side of Voldemort, I became more and more scared. No, listen to me! If someone had offered those things to me, I cannot say with certainty if I would have refused. I had advantages that you never had. I knew Voldemort's true colours. I was in the most heavily targeted group. I was Harry Potter's best friend.'

'Don't make me out as an innocent victim, Hermione. I knew he was targeting Muggle-borns and my best friend, my sister was a Muggle-born. Yes, he used to tell me that he was only throwing dirt in the purebloods' eyes, but somewhere deep inside, I knew. When the first attacks began, I was terrified, but not terribly surprised. And then the Prophecy… I didn't believe the old fraud for a moment, but he decided to stay on the safe side. As soon as he mentioned the Potters it all made sense. I didn't want it to be true, but I very well knew the power that the Dark Lord knows not.'

'Dumbledore always used to say it was love.'

'Oh, it was. The selfless love of Lily Potter towards her young son let her channel all her life into Harry. The sacrifice of a mother in order to save her child does form a sort of blood protection, which is an entirely different type of magic. But the way she did it was of great importance. She drained every last bit of her life force, which is usually impossible. Do you remember what I told you about the connection between life, magic and soul?'

'Yes. Do you mean she channelled a part of her soul in Harry?!'

'The tiniest bit of Lily must have clung to him. Not like a Horcrux, something much more benevolent. I believe it was the sole reason Harry survived and still became a decent human being, despite Petunia's tender loving care,' he spat.

Hermione's brain was buzzing, trying to process the information. She knew that it wasn't easy for him to talk about Lily, but another question was begging to be asked and she couldn't hold it back.

'Did you really hate Harry?'

He laughed bitterly.

'He reminded me too much of his father. Maybe if Lily had married someone else, she would have survived. It was much easier to blame Potter. Besides, I had vowed to protect the little brat and he made my task damn near impossible. But no, I never hated him.'

Severus thought with amusement that many people would never believe that those exact words had ever left his mouth voluntarily. Hermione looked mildly incredulous herself.

'Thank you for telling me all of this. You didn't have to.'

'As I told you in a letter a few months ago, talking helps put things into perspective. I was never one to follow my own advice but I must admit I find it…liberating.' Hermione's bright eyes darkened a bit as she probably recalled the situation that had caused their correspondence. He had asked only the most perfunctory questions about her recovery and suddenly he needed to know whether she was truly all right. So he inquired, 'You said the nightmares are not troubling you anymore?'

'I haven't had a single one since I left England. Viktor was right that the change would do me good. I still miss everyone who passed away, but I don't feel so guilty anymore.' Her look grew pensive and she sipped on her wine.

'My parents…I was so angry at first. I had gone through all that trouble to hide them, and they had to go and die in a stupid natural disaster. It was so unfair. Then I guess I accepted it as fate. Maybe they were meant to die. Drowning is not a pretty death, but I'd like to believe it was better than what the Death Eaters would have done to them.'

'You can count on that,' he said darkly.

'It hurts that I never got to say goodbye. At least I hope they were happy in Australia.' She was biting her lip again and Severus could see the two spots where the wine had stained deeper because her skin was almost raw. He winced as he saw a small droplet of blood ooze under her pearly teeth. Without thinking, he reached across the table and freed her lip. Her eyes focused and she looked at him startled. He wiped the blood with his thumb and showed it to her.

'You should stop abusing your mouth like that,' he said softly, slightly embarrassed.

She licked the wounded flesh and he suppressed a groan. He wanted to be the one to soothe her lip with his tongue. Quickly standing up, he fetched a small jar from his potions cabinet.

'This salve will help it heal faster.' Severus removed the lid and scooped a minute amount on his index finger. His heart in his throat, he asked, 'May I?'

Hermione nodded. He knew that a simple healing charm would have done the trick. She also knew it, yet she was willing to accept his touch. He slowly spread the salve on her stained lips, feeling the dry skin soften and warm up under his fingers. Hermione had closed her eyes and he could feel her breath coming in shallow gasps against his hand. Reluctantly, he removed his fingers after the salve was absorbed. Her tongue snaked out and she winced as it touched the small wound.

'It still hurts a little. You could kiss it and make it better.' Hermione's eyes snapped open in horror and he could see that she hadn't intended to voice that thought.

The jar of salve slipped from his numb fingers and smashed on the floor.


A/N: Huge thanks to everyone for the reviews. I love you! *hugs* This chapter's title belongs to Depeche Mode