Chapter 16: Love and Consequences
Hermione sat across from William, feeling quite at odds. Though he had hardly said a word since Lord Snape's confession, she could see in his eyes that he was angry with her. She should have told him the truth. She'd tried a million times to think of just how to tell him that she was no widow, but instead she just let the lie skink her farther and farther. Now, Hermione couldn't blame him if he never forgave her. Her behavior was truly reprehensible.
"You have no idea how truly sorry I am," she told him. The spoken words came easily, even as she bungled her way through the signs.
"I'm not angry with you, Hermione. I understand why you and Lord Snape felt it necessary to keep Harry's true identity a secret. Though I hate to admit it, I actually respect Lord Snape for his eagerness to help Harry. It's just…I don't know…" William paused and turned toward the window. "I'm quite angry with myself for not realizing that you are an innocent."
Touching his shoulder, Hermione forced her way into his view. "Please don't let this change anything between us. You're the best friend I've ever had. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
For a long time, William stared at her. It was as if he was trying to judge her sincerity. He frowned.
"I shouldn't be here," he said finally. "It could ruin you if anyone found out that you and I have been alone for so long."
Hermione bit her lip. "I never cared if I was ruined."
"You've truly no desire to marry?" he asked.
"None," she said defiantly. "I am perfectly capable of making a way for myself without a man."
William chuckled. "And if someone were to ask for your hand?"
"I would say no. I value your friendship over the prospect of marriage," she told him earnestly.
His mirth deepened. "Then I shan't ask."
Her heart leapt in her chest. Hermione felt light headed. There was only one reason that she could think of for him to ask such a thing. "Would it be an offer out of obligation?"
"Hermione," he said, pulling her into his arms, "stop talking."
William's mouth captured hers and for one perfect moment, Hermione didn't have a single thought in her head.
Lord Snape's head, however, was far from uncluttered as he nursed a blackened eye in his carriage. It seemed that Harry was a master of surprise. Every time that Severus thought he had the boy figured out, he changed. An idea—and a quite foolish one, he thought—had come to him when he first began visiting. Despite his better judgment, Severus directed his driver to take him to Hogwarts. Unlike his first time at Hogwarts, Severus was not immediately whisked to the headmaster's office by one of the teachers. He was met near the door by none other than Minerva McGonagall—who did not appear to be shocked to see him.
The teacher smirked. "My lord, I knew you would come here, but I did not expect it to be so soon."
"And just how, madam, did you know that I would come?" he asked, barely hiding his annoyance.
"Because I knew you would not let a challenge pass you by," she replied without a hint of apology. "If you are looking for the headmaster, unfortunately, he is unavailable for callers at this time. Would you care to follow me?"
Severus did as the matron bid only out of deference to her respectful silence on the matter of Harry's true background. In honesty, he had no desire to see the school. Severus followed Miss McGonagall through the large sprawling wings of the school, stopping every so often when a student approached her. Most students, he noticed, relied solely on sign language to communicate, and the ones who did speak were, for the most part, near incomprehensible. Part of him already knew that Harry would never learn to speak normally, but the thought made his stomach clench into a ball. That's why I'm here, a little voice said inside of him.
Shaking away the thought, Severus began to study the building around him. The west wing of the school was comprised of mostly student lodgings, and the east held a small library and the classrooms. The original structure, Miss McGonagall had mentioned earlier, was intended to be a monastery. Nearly a hundred years later, it morphed into a private residence and once again nearly twenty years earlier to become a school. As Severus watched a line of young students walk down the hall to their dormitories, Severus began to wonder what Harry would have been like had he been sent here as a child.
The tour ended near the headmaster's office where Miss McGonagall stopped. "I will see if the headmaster is ready for you," she told him as she gestured to a row of chairs along the wall.
As Severus took a seat, his mind drifted back to his own school days. He had spent many hours in a hall very similar to this one, awaiting punishment for something or other that he had done. Usually, he was in trouble for fighting with the other boys, who taunted him mercilessly for being the son of a wastrel. It had never mattered that he did not start the fights, only that their fathers outranked his. That was when he began to lock away his emotions. He vowed he would never let someone get beneath his skin again—and then came Remus.
"My lord." Miss McGonagall's voice shook Severus from his thoughts. "The headmaster will see you now."
Headmaster Dumbledore was smiling in that annoying way of his when Severus strode into his office. It appeared that, like Miss McGonagall, he had known Severus would eventually come to Hogwarts. "My lord," he said with a great deal of mirth, "I am quite shocked to see you here."
Severus sneered. "Perhaps this was a mistake."
"No, I assure you, it is not." Dumbledore motioned for Miss McGonagall to leave them. "Please, have a seat."
Severus did so.
"Be honest, my lord: You love Harry, do you not?"
"What an absurd thing to say!" Severus burst. He would have continued, but the headmaster raised a wrinkled hand.
"I am no stranger to homosexual love…in fact, I enjoyed quite a bit of it in my younger years. Don't bother denying what you are, Lord Snape. I knew it from the moment Remus started talking about you—though the good doctor is quite innocent of directly saying so. At the very least, you can be honest about that," Dumbledore told him sincerely.
Severus sank deeper into the chair. "So what if I prefer a man in my bed? That doesn't mean I would fall in love with a child whom I cannot even communicate with."
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, but perhaps it does mean that you would fall in love with a young man who, despite having some great difficulties in his life, still remains strong and loyal."
"It is no more than a pathetic bout of lust," Severus corrected with a sneer. "I wish to rid myself of such ridiculous notions by finding out that the boy is no different from the rest."
"You are asking to learn sign language?"
"Yes," the lord ground out.
The headmaster smiled and nodded. "I will teach you myself, if you are willing to come to my office in the evenings."
Severus straightened himself. "Tomorrow then?"
"Tomorrow," Dumbledore assured him.
As Severus' carriage rolled down the streets of London, he wished that he had not given up drinking. He could think of nothing else he wanted more at this particular time than to get completely foxed, but his oath held him. Before he reached his home, Severus rapped on the carriage roof. The conveyance came to a halt, and a rotund little man appeared. "Yes, my lord?" the driver inquired.
"I need to see Mr. Whit," he commanded without a moment's hesitation.
Mr. Whit's home—much like the man himself—was quite modest, though decidedly proper for a gentlemen. Nestled between similar homes, Whit's dwelling was the only one with candle light spilling from the windows. After handing his card to Whit's housekeeper, Severus was led into a library that was obviously designed for utility. Whit appeared in the doorway not a minute later.
"My lord, I was not expecting you," the inspector said with a curt bow. "Was there something you needed?"
Severus nodded. "I wish to know how things have been progressing with Pettigrew."
Mr. Whit smiled. "In that case, would you be interested in a bit of adventure?"
"To what end?"
"There is a small tavern near the docks where Pettigrew has found himself a bit of companionship. He's there nearly every evening," Whit added with a sneer—for Whit was certainly not a man of indulgence.
Mere moments later, Severus and Mr. Whit were riding down the streets of London in an unmarked carriage. Two footmen—both, Whit explained, were former runners and were armed should something unexpected happen—accompanied them through the seedier side of the city. Severus, like most of the peerage, had never strayed this far into the city's underbelly. He could smell the foul aroma of decay as they rolled on by. Briefly he considered that Dursley must only pay the man a pittance, for what man would choose to stray into such a hell?
The carriage pulled to a halt before a rundown building brimming with drunken mirth. In plain view, one man was pawing a curvaceous wench while another was spilling his supper into the gutter as his friends looked on in amusement. Severus grimaced. That he would be forced to enter such a place did not sit well with him.
As if sensing his discomfort, Whit shook his head. "Let one of my men go in. He'll bring Pettigrew to us," he explained.
Severus nodded. "I can think of no better plan."
Pettigrew emerged from the tavern still clutching a bottle. Luckily, his gait was untainted by the drink, and it did appear as though he still had his wits—or rather what little wits he had. Before he reached the carriage, Pettigrew stopped and hauled the bottle to his lips. He obediently climbed inside after the footman opened the door.
Pettigrew frowned. "I ain't said that I'm willing to do anythin' just yet," he told the gentlemen.
"No," Whit said with a strong amount of disdain, "you're waiting to hear how much we'll pay you before you decide."
"A man's got to see that his needs are taken care of," he replied with a shrug. "How much blunt are we talking about?"
"Fifty pounds," Severus told him, breaking his silence.
Pettigrew's eyes began to twinkle at the mere thought of the money, but he was smart enough to not speak immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat. "And just what do you gents want to know?"