For the Potions Master's Amusement

Chapter 67: Clarity

Kell was dead.

Hermione remained in her place at Kell's shoulder, with Vi beside her, at Kell's head, and Reg prostrate beside the still body of his beloved. Claudius squatted behind the crying Vi, pulling her against his chest and holding her. Hadrian stood helplessly to the side, grief etched on his face, and from down the corridor, Elinore's chair glided silently to a stop beside her husband. She took in the situation with her usual perspicacity, and saying nothing, she simply took Hadrian's hand.

And Hermione's mind whirled, almost independently of her emotions. Dumbledore had told Harry there was no spell to bring someone back from the dead—for it there were, would anyone ever die, as long as someone they loved survived to cast the resurrection spell? But Kell had just been with them, fighting, then struck down and bleeding—but just now, she had been a living, breathing organism.

In teaching herself the Elder Futhark runes, so that she would be able to translate the spell Harry needed, Hermione had learned two very old spells: a Healing Charm she had used to clear a light acne break-out from her face, and a spell to rejuvenate a dead organism. She had been repulsed at the notion of using it on an animal, but she had reanimated a dead houseplant with the spell.

Would it work on Kell?

If it didn't, what harm could there be in trying?

Taking her wand into her blood-caked hands, Hermione began the incantation, carefully tracing the wand movements in the air above Kell's body, all of her intent and skill focussed on casting.

'Hermione?' Hadrian said, sounding concerned. 'What are you doing?'

Hermione scarcely heard him and made no effort to answer; she continued to chant the ancient words, feeling the power of the spell gathering within her, and she directed it at Kell, her voice rising as she cast. In a visible stream of silvery light, the spell illuminated Kell's supine form until she was radiant. The heat of it drove Reggie into a sitting position, his eyes questioning and wide. And still Hermione bore down on the tangible edge of the magic, bringing all of her power to bear—

And Kell's eyes opened.

'Kay?' Reg whispered, leaning over her, his palm cupping her cheek.

'Master?' Kell quavered, and even as Reg answered her, Claudius bent to peer into her face.

'What is it, petit?' Claudius asked kindly.

'I meant Master Reggie,' Kell said, rubbing her cheek against Reg's hand. She sounded weary beyond words. 'What happened to the Death Eaters?'.

As the Dominants answered her question, Hermione and Vi cast simultaneous diagnostic spells, and from the side, Elinore's voice came, hushed and almost reverent.

'Sweet Nimüe! You brought her back to life!'

Hermione settled back onto the floor, feeling as if she had run a marathon, and Vi replaced her wand up her sleeve and spoke briskly to those surrounding her. 'Hermione's spell healed some of the damage, but Kelly desperately needs Blood Replenishing Potion and the attentions of a proper Healer.'

'Of course,' Reg said, stroking Kell's red-streaked cheek, staring down into her face with wondering eyes.

'Reg and I will Disapparate with her to St Mungo's, if that's acceptable to you, Master,' Vi said, turning her face to Claudius.

'Do you need me, as well?' he asked her.

Vi raised her eyebrows at Reg, but he shook his head. 'I think we can handle it,' he said to Claudius. 'Perhaps you and Hadrian could deal with this lot.' He flicked disdainful eyes to the two trussed Death Eaters on the floor. 'But weren't there three? Where's the third?'

'One of them killed Simon Curtis,' Hadrian said grimly. 'You can count on us to sort them out, Reg. Go, and Godspeed.'

Reg and Vi each took one of Kell's hands and Disapparated. Claudius crossed to Hadrian and began to speak in lowered tones, while Elinore's chair appeared at Hermione's side.

'You must be shattered, my dear,' Elinore said, placing her hand on Hermione's hair. 'I don't believe I've ever heard of a spell like that, before … What was it?'

Hermione looked up into the older woman's eyes. 'I found it in an Ancient Runes textbook,' she said, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. 'I used it to revitalise a houseplant. I didn't know if it would work on a person …'

Elinore looked troubled. 'Perhaps you should go up and wash off the blood?' she suggested. 'I can send Pitty to collect your clothes.'

But Hermione stood up, as if to dispel the image of herself as tired. 'No, I may as well keep them on until we get this cleared up.' She indicated the large circle of blood on the marble floor. She saw that Elinore wanted to argue, and she held up one hand. 'I'd prefer to do this, Elinore,' she said quietly. 'I need the … occupation.'

'Oh, my dear,' Elinore said, her voice warm with concern. 'I am sure Severus is all right!'

Hermione glanced to her, expressionless. 'Do you think so?' she asked.

Elinore moved to confer with Hadrian and Claudius, and Hermione stared at the two black-cloaked lumps who were the cause of all the turmoil. With a severe expression on her face, she marched over to them and ripped the masks from their faces.

Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe.

They immediately began to buck against the ropes which wrapped about them from ankles to shoulders, and they made guttural, incoherent noises behind their gags, but Hermione turned away from them, disgusted. It was horrible to believe that two boys who had started school at the same time she had done—who had been in some of her classes, eaten with her in the Great Hall—had voluntarily become Death Eaters, and tonight, had killed a man.

Starting at the far edge of the lake of Kell's blood, which was congealing on the floor, she began to siphon it up, moving the tip of her wand carefully from side to side, completely absorbed in the mindless task. She did not know how much time had passed when Crabbe and Goyle began to make new noises, horrible screams behind their gags. Hermione turned back to them, disconcerted. What was wrong with them?

Hadrian, Elinore, and Claudius, who had taken their discussion to the sitting room, returned to the entryway at a fast clip.

'What's wrong with them, Hermione?' Hadrian asked, perplexed.

'I don't know,' Hermione responded. 'They just began to make those noises.'

'Remove one of their gags,' Elinore said. 'I don't want another death in my house.'

Claudius looked doubtful, but Hadrian complied with his wife's request, and Crabbe began to scream, a full-throated, ghastly wail.

'What is wrong with you?' Hadrian demanded, his voice stern and commanding, and to Hermione's surprise, Crabbe responded to the tone of authority.

'My arm! It's burning off!' Crabbe gasped.

'Do you want to look at his arm?' Claudius asked shortly.

'Yes, please,' Elinore said.

'Stupefy!' Claudius said, Stunning Crabbe, and then he repeated the spell on Goyle.

Hadrian removed the ropes with the sweep of his wand, and he and Claudius knelt beside their prisoners, pushing up the sleeves of their hooded Death Eater robes.

'Look!' Hermione cried, pointing to Goyle's left arm, and a glance at Crabbe showed the same phenomenon playing out. The Dark Mark was burned there, black as night upon the pale skin, and as the inhabitants of Roissy House watched, the Mark leached from black to red, from red to grey, from grey to tan, and then was gone.

Hermione staggered backward, collapsing onto the step of the marble staircase, uncertain of her legs.

'What does it mean?' Elinore said, directing a questioning look to her husband.

Hadrian stared across at Claudius, his eyes bright. 'What do you think?' he murmured.

Claudius pointed his wand at Crabbe and wrapped him in ropes again, repeating the act on Goyle, his expression indifferent. It was Hermione who answered the question.

'It means that Harry was successful,' she said, her voice shaking. 'He has unmade Voldemort's body and killed him.' She covered her eyes with one trembling hand.


Hermione siphoned the last of Kell's blood from the white marble floor, feeling as if she had been pummelled ceaselessly by brutal fists. So much had happened tonight—attacking a Death Eater, seeing Kell die, channelling all of her magical energy into the spell to revitalise Kell, seeing the Dark Mark disappear from the Death Eaters' arms—it was no wonder she was done in.

Hermione stood, bending backwards a bit and hearing the satisfactory crackle of her vertebrae clicking into place. Inside, she felt oddly numb, and in a way, she was glad of it. If she were forced to feel the emotions of every single thing that had happened in the last several hours, she would likely run mad.

She moved into the large receiving room, noting the singed ropes lying upon the floor there. Who was tied up in here? she wondered.

Unwilling to expend the necessary brain power to sort it out, she moved over to a chair against the wall and sagged into it, unmindful of the bloodied filth of her clothes. Even as she subsided into the straight chair, she heard the pop! of Apparition as a house-elf arrived in the corridor, no doubt to tidy up the bits Hermione might have missed.

Hadrian had Disapparated to Sussex, to deliver the body of Simon Curtis to Master Thorn of the D/s community there. Simon had been a foolish man, unfit to be a Dominant, but in the end, he had been a decent human being.

Claudius had taken charge of Crabbe and Goyle, Disapparating with them in tow to the Ministry of Magic. No doubt the Aurors would be very busy that night, if Harry Potter had truly defeated the Dark Lord, but the inhabitants of Roissy House had no desire to keep the murdering Death Eaters in their midst for one additional moment. They would suffer the intrusion of the Aurors as necessary over the coming days, to investigate the crimes which had been committed there, but for now, they wanted the Death Eaters gone.

Hermione was staring into space when she heard the sounds of an arrival in the entryway, and then she heard the voice of Severus Snape.

'Welcome home, Master Severus!' the piping voice of Pitty proclaimed.

'Tell me what's happened,' Professor Snape's voice commanded. 'Dark Magic has been used here.'

'Death Eaters is coming into Roissy House!' Pitty exclaimed, her voice betraying her loathing. 'As soon as they is crossing the doorway, Pitty is going to Miss Hermione, telling her to hurry to Mistress Taffy, just as Master Severus commands!'

The professor's voice cut across that of the house-elf. 'How did they get in?' he demanded.

'That bad man, Simon Curtis, is bringing them in,' Pitty answered.

'Who were they? Did you hear their names?' The professor was firing his questions so fast Pitty scarcely had time to draw breath from one to the next.

'Master Hadrian is saying they is crabs and gargoyles,' Pitty reported. 'But Pitty didn't hear any names, Master Severus.'

'Christ,' the professor breathed. 'What happened, Pitty? Is anyone hurt?'

'Simon Curtis is dead,' Pitty informed him. 'The Death Eaters is killing him. And …'

There was a horrible, gurgling sniff.

'Tell me!' the professor shouted, and there was a squeak, as if the house-elf had been grabbed.

'M-miss Kell is d-dead!' Pitty wailed. 'And then M-miss Hermione is making her not dead! And there is all this blood to clean!'

'Where is Hermione?' Professor Snape asked urgently.

'I'm here,' Hermione said from the doorway, and the professor turned to her, his face suddenly lightening from the thunderous expression he had exhibited mere seconds before.

'You're covered in blood!' he said, taking a step towards her, but Hermione withdrew into the shadows of the receiving room, and he followed. 'Are you injured?'

There was a pop! as Pitty Disapparated, but Hermione was watching him, a wave of churning emotion replacing the numbness she had been feeling. 'No, I'm not injured,' she said flatly. 'Please tell me what Pitty meant—that you commanded her to send me away when the Death Eaters entered the house.'

The professor made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and Hermione had the leisure to remark his appearance. His face was streaked with soot, as if he had been through a dirty Floo, but the eye patch was gone, and though the skin around his injured eye was still red and raw looking, the eye itself was no longer the colour of blood. His hair and cloak were filthy, but otherwise, he appeared unharmed.

'It is of no consequence,' he began, but Hermione cut across him.

'I beg to differ,' she said, in that same strange, even tone. 'It is of consequence to me.'

His nostrils flared in annoyance. 'I had given instructions to Pitty,' he said impatiently, 'that in the event of any occurrence which would make the house unsafe for you, she was to dispatch you to St Mungo's.'

'To "protect" Taffy?'

He shrugged. 'It was as good an excuse as any.'

Hermione felt her lips twisting in anger, and she made no attempt to stop it. 'And what about everyone else in the house?' she demanded, her voice rising. 'What about their safety?'

He took another step toward her, and she again moved away, placing a round-topped occasional table between them.

'You're being ridiculous,' he said harshly. 'I am responsible for your wellbeing—not that of every person in this house—and I made arrangements to safeguard you.'

'How unfortunate for you that Dumbledore sent Tonks to see after t at the hospital—Tonks was offended, thinking the Headmaster had sent me to check up on her.'

She knew from the expression on his face that he had been unaware of this development. Still, he drew himself to his full height and looked down his nose at her.

'I scarcely see what difference it makes,' he said, supremely indifferent.

And with a flash of blinding clarity, something in Hermione broke free, propelling her forward, where she slapped the palms of her hands down on the table between them. 'Because Kell died!' she screamed, uncaring that she was loud enough for everyone in the house to hear her. 'It could have been any of them—it could have been all of them! And I wasn't here to help—to fight—to protect them!'

She turned from him jerkily, pacing toward the far wall.

'What if Tonks hadn't been there, Severus? What if I had stayed to protect Taffy, and more than Kell had been hurt? How do you think I could have lived with myself after that?'

With a wave of his hand he illuminated the chandelier overhead and stared across at her, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight, his thin lips pressed together in an intransigent white line.

'Your job is not to fill your head with a plethora of pointless "what-ifs",' he informed her coldly.

The world was suddenly full of bright colours, razor-sharp images, and her thoughts stood out in her mind in stark relief, like winter-bare black trees against a vast expanse of snow.

'Stop telling me what to think and how to feel!' she cried, carried along on the current of her outrage. 'You have no respect for me as a capable adult, and you never have!' She gestured at the marble tiled corridor. 'I watched Kell bleed to death! I did everything I could do to save her!' She began to cry, furious with herself for it but unable to stop. 'She was dead—dead, Severus! Reggie was crying—it was horrible! And then I used that spell—the one I learned from the Ancient Futhark textbook—and she came back to life!'

She lapsed into wracking sobs, pressing her hands, still bearing traces of Kell's blood, to her face and rocking where she stood. She heard his boots upon the floor as he crossed to her, but she spun away from him when he touched her shoulder.

'Don't touch me!' she shrieked, retreating from him and putting the table between them again.

'She was obviously not dead, or the spell would not have revived her,' he said, his voice soothing. 'She was most likely near death, but you know there is no spell to reanimate a dead person.'

Hermione dragged the sleeve of her jumper across her eyes. 'You weren't here! You don't know!'

He came closer, still speaking in soothing tones. 'I am sure it was very upsetting for you,' he said. 'I am sorry for that, Hermione.'

She glared across the table at him. 'Do you know, I don't think you are sorry,' she said, and as the words passed her lips, she knew they were true. 'You have done exactly what you wanted to do, for your own reasons, every step of the way, lying when it suited you, showing no respect for me as a person, and every time I made any attempt to take part in the war, you reacted as if I had deliberately done something to hurt or disobey you.' Her voice rose again, screeching. 'You can't have it all your way! This isn't just about you, Severus Snape!'

He stopped at that, his eyes raking over her face, as if the tone of her voice and content of her words gave him serious pause. 'Hermione,' he tried again, his voice placating, 'Potter did the thing—he destroyed the Dark Lord! The war is over!'

Hermione wrapped her arms about her torso, her lips still trembling with emotion, and stared into his face. 'I know that,' she said miserably.

'Don't you see?' he coaxed, stepping to her side, but she countered by moving again to the other side of the table. Still, he continued, 'We're both unharmed—we can make plans for the future—live our lives, now.'

She gaped at him, scarcely able to believe that he could say such a thing. For all the times he'd forbidden her to help her friends, demanded that she hide away in the house, upbraided her for being the courageous woman she knew herself to be—still, she had convinced herself time and again that he did respect her choices and her intelligence. Now, she knew better.

'How can I possibly trust you?' she said sadly.

He leaned toward her. 'I have made many mistakes with you—I've never tried to hide that—but I will never stop trying to learn to be the best Master for you! I will make it right!'

She shook her head. 'That's not possible—not after what you've done, Severus,' she said, and as she spoke the words, she knew that she was not simply saying hurtful things in the midst of a row: She was speaking her heart's truth.

'But I love you, Hermione.' He opened his empty hands, his tone imploring, his midnight eyes beseeching her. His voice dropped, his tone silky, intimate. 'I've never said those words to another person. I love you.'

There was a time when such a confession from him would have filled her with light, but now she felt curiously unmoved, as if he were speaking of people from another time and place. And her fingers were beneath her hair, fumbling with the buckled leather.

'I have no use for love where neither honesty nor respect exist,' she said, and feeling as if a living part of her body had been excised, she placed her collar on the table between them.

His face blanched white. 'Don't do this,' he said, but his voice was barely above a whisper.

'I return your collar to you,' she said, feeling terror rising in her like ice, knowing that when it reached her heart she would die—but persisting, also knowing she was doing the right thing. 'I withdraw my offer of submission.'

And as she spoke the words, there was a burning sensation at her waist, and she knew her mithril chain—her Christmas gift from him—had disintegrated, leaving her free.

'Hermione,' he whispered, but she cut across him.

'I am going to the hospital until I'm sure Kell is all right. Please don't follow me. Don't come to see me. I'll send for my things.'

'You needn't go away from Roissy House,' he said, almost as one speaking in a dream.

'This is your home, not mine,' she said, and he seemed to pull in upon himself, as if he had been struck.

Her last sight of him remained with her like an image burned on her retinas, for she saw it every time she closed her eyes: Severus Snape, standing alone, a black leather collar draped loosely over his long fingers, his empty eyes staring past her like endless black tunnels.