Hermione had never given a formal statement before. When the radio studio had been attacked, she'd run before the Aurors started tracking people down for their statements.
They were in an empty classroom, desks all stacked together against one wall. It was dusty, unused, but undamaged from the fight.
The Auror, Erikson, sat on one side of the teacher's desk and she sat on the other. There was a tea service between them, which he told her to help herself to. (She did—she'd lost count of the Invigoration Draughts she'd been taking, and good old-fashioned caffeine sounded like a wonderful idea.)
There were two Quick Quotes Quills hovering at the ready above scrolls of parchment. They were short and black, one of them a bit scruffy. Very different from Skeeter's acid green Quill.
Auror Erikson had quill and parchment ready, too. Jill Baxter, junior undersecretary to the minister of a department Hermione couldn't remember, was in the corner as a witness, no quill for notes. Baxter had been an informant for the Order; Hermione had met her at least twice, if only briefly.
"Very well. Let the record reflect that it is now eight in the morning on the third of May, 1998. Present at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Ministry for the official statement of Madam Hermione Snape, nee Granger, concerning the hostilities that took place at the aforementioned school on the evening of May the second, are Jamie Erikson, Auror of record, and Jill Baxter, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magical Transportation, as witness. You may begin, Madam Snape."
Hermione started talking. She began in Severus's office and didn't stop until she'd caught up to Erikson's arrival that morning looking to take Severus's statement. Since he'd been in a staff meeting, she'd accompanied him to the bare classroom.
Erikson sporadically asked her to clarify details or elaborate on events as she could. She had to spell "horcrux" for him, and it was clear by how calmly he took in the information that there had been so many to destoy that he didn't actually know what they were.
"And how long had you been in the castle prior to the attack, Madam Snape?" he asked when she'd finished.
"Hours. I'd been arrested for breaking into Gringotts and brought to a holding cell for unregistered Muggle-borns at the Ministry. The Death Eaters moved me from the Ministry to a cage at Malfoy Manor, where I was set to participate in their Muggle Fights. My husband rescued me and brought me here."
She didn't want to tell them about how long she'd stood in his shower and stared at the new scars on her arm. She sure as hell wasn't going to tell them that she'd needed a good hour sitting on Severus's lap like a child while she cried before he'd got an intelligent word out of her.
"Thank you for your time, Madam," Erikson said. Then, for the official record that the scrolls filled by the Quick Quotes Quills would become, he said, "Thus concludes the official statement of Madam Hermione Snape, this the third of May, 1998."
He collected the Quick Quotes Quills and she skimmed the scrolls to be sure everything had been taken down accurately before signing and dating at the bottom.
She saw herself out while Erikson tried to think of something to say. Or maybe he was waiting for her to leave so that he could go collect whoever was next on his list—there seemed to be a team of Aurors assigned to sorting out what, exactly, had taken place during the fight, and Erikson was one of a few who had started pulling people aside.
Hermione went to Severus's office when she was finished, but he wasn't there. She requested a light lunch and the elves delivered a four course meal for five. She nibbled at it, organizing their paperwork for the Records Office. Their marriage license, the children's birth certificates, the letter Dumbledore had given her vouching for the Time Turner's existence, her official certificates of completion for the Healing program in France, her N.E.W.T. scores.
It was well past noon when Severus sent her a message on her palm, and she gathered her things to meet him in the atrium at the Ministry. He looked as worn out as she felt. (She was fairly sure he hadn't even bothered trying to count the number of potions he'd taken to stay on his feet this long.)
"How did your statement go?" he asked, lacing his fingers through hers as they walked. The Ministry was buzzing with activity. Most employees had shown up for work as usual and discovered that everything had changed overnight. Things were in uproar, to say the least.
"Surprisingly easy," she said, watching a serious-looking witch do a double-take at them so quickly that she almost fell into the wall. Hermione smirked. "They just let me talk. Erikson asked a few questions. Who was your witness? I got Baxter."
"Elpheba Benoit. I got David Adams as the Auror on record, though. Idiot."
"Done now, right?"
"Next come the hearings, though. For the war, explaining it all to them. They'll have to decide who to put on trial."
"That will take longer than an hour with an Auror, I suppose."
"Too right. It will be weeks just for you and I, and we were only one part of it."
"Rather intense part, though."
"Potter will have to explain the horcruxes."
"You think they'll get him in for a hearing?"
"Shacklebolt has been named Acting Minister. He'll do it thoroughly, and he'll do it by the book. We'll all be in for hearings."
"Good. I suppose."
They reached the Records Office. It was, not surprisingly, much quieter than some of the other parts of the building.
"Headmaster!" a clerk said at the sight of them, his eyebrows shooting up. "That was fast."
"I beg your pardon?" Severus asked, raising one of his own eyebrows. The clerk—a young man that reminded her too much of Percy Weasley, though his hair was black instead of red and he didn't wear glasses—was young enough that he'd probably been Severus's student, and the eyebrow made him stand up straight and wince in preparation for the loss of House points. Hermione smirked.
"I only sent you the owl five minutes ago, sir. You're more than punctual this morning."
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Severus asked, the 'you idiot' at the end of the question clear even though he left it off. The clerk gulped, glancing at her like she might help him with the answer but she merely looked at him.
"Some sort of change in command. I've really no idea, sir. I just keep the files straight."
"Of course you do," Severus said, the hand that wasn't holding hers rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Parkinson, if you please. I am not here because you sent me an owl. Obviously, if you sent the owl five minutes ago I could not have received it. I am here to—"
"Then you don't know about the inheritance!"
"The what?" Severus's voice was flat and tired. Hermione could feel the annoyance radiating off him. If it wasn't for the fact that the office was clearly lacking any other employee they could speak to, she would've asked to deal with somebody else.
"The Prince estate."
"The Prince family disowned my mother decades ago."
"Signed you back in nine months ago, didn't they?"
"This has nothing to do with anything," Severus said sharply. Parkinson, still standing a bit too straight, fidgeted. "Do I hand these to you and you file them, or is there something I need to sign?"
"Birth certificates?"
"And our marriage license," Hermione put in, squeezing Severus's hand. He squeezed back.
Parkinson gaped at them.
"But. You've used a Time Turner."
"Correct."
"A Ministry-issued device?"
"No."
"It was a modified model. Dumbledore—" Hermione began, but Parkinson cut her off.
"But all the Time Turners were destroyed ages ago," Parkinson said, speaking to her. Probably because he hadn't been conditioned to go silent when she glared at him, as he had with Severus's best sharp looks.
"It was Dumbledore's. He tinkered with it," she said shortly. Parkinson blinked, glancing at Severus out of the corner of his eye and blushing crimson. Hermione rolled her eyes. Severus glowered.
Parkinson flipped through the folio they'd handed him, wandering back towards his desk and spreading things out. "It's all in order, sir," he said, glancing up at them. "It will take some time for all your, er, aliases to sort themselves out, ma'am. Er, Madam Snape. I'll file them this morning."
"Thank you," Severus said, words so short and clipped she wasn't certain he was being sarcastic or merely forcing himself to be polite.
They turned to go, escape before the Ministry filled up with even more people or, worse, the press.
"But the Prince estate! Sir, I need you to sign—"
"I don't want anything from them. I've had nothing to do with them, and they've had nothing to do with me."
Likely they thought to claim the Dark Lord's new favorite and earn some favor themselves, Severus thought bitterly. She squeezed his hand again.
"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean, they're all dead sir!"
"What?"
"My condolences."
"Who's all dead, you great dunderheaded—?" Severus hissed.
"The Princes."
"All of them?" Severus asked, both eyebrows flicking to his hairline.
"Yes, sir."
"When?"
"Two months ago, sir. Agatha Prince, your great-aunt. I'm sorry, sir. She died. Natural causes, St. Mungo's said. She was almost two-hundred, after all." Parkinson grinned timidly. "She was the one who, well, un-disinherited your mother in order to name you beneficiary upon her death. Since there were no other Princes. Well. Technically, there was that Squib cousin, but he'd been disinherited before your mum ever was, and he had a coronary a week before she went anyway."
"Are you telling me that I've inherited the Prince famliy's dubious 'fortune'?"
"Nothing dubious about it, sir." Parkinson shifted, glancing at her again. "And yes, sir. You've inherited it."
"Parkinson, the Princes squandered their money generations ago."
"Yes, sir. But Agatha had been liquidating her properties for years. She kept inheriting as the others died off—er. Sorry. As the rest of the family passed on, Agatha Prince sold most of the posessions and land that came to her."
"Brilliant," Severus said, scowling. Parkinson, who had looked hopeful for the length of a twitch, began to fidget again.
"Hand that scroll over here," Hermione said, holding her hand out for Parkinson's summary of the estate. He hesitated for just long enough that she Summoned it with a snap.
"That was hardly—!"
"Shut it," Severus said, looking down the list over her shoulder.
It had been meticulously itemized by some obsessive-compulsive clerk. (She doubted it had been Parkinson.) It had been alphabetized by category and by item. There was everything on the list from a tea kettle that whistled songs by request when the water was hot, to what looked, on paper, to be a chateau. The sum total of the gold (just the gold, not the other valuables in storage) in the Prince vault at Gringotts was enormous.
"I don't want it," Severus said, shoulders tense.
Don't be absurd. We need it.
"We most definitely do not!"
"You and I are about to accrue an alarmingly large fine, in the very best circumstance. And legal costs on top of that. We're going to need lawyers; we don't have Dumbledore to speak for us."
"We have his portrait."
"Portraits can be called for supplemental testimony, nothing more."
"It will supplement our statements."
"Yes, and confirm that I was, indeed, acting as his assassin for years? The portrait can't speak to more than that. It can, if we're very lucky, and we phrase it just right, shed light on his motivations, our motivations."
"This is the Wizengamot. The witches and wizard on the Wizengamot knew Dumbledore. They knew what it was like to be in a room with him."
"Yes, and they've just gone through a year without him because you killed him."
"Because he told me to."
"Which they will believe."
You don't think they'll believe he told you to kill anybody.
I didn't believe it the first time he asked me.
"He was dying. Desperate."
"And the portrait can try to explain that. But we'll still need proper representation."
"Shacklebolt—"
"Will do it right."
Severus sighed, and looked at the list again. "So you're saying…"
"Sign it."
"The taxes alone…"
I can't be sentenced to Azkaban, Severus.
"You won't go to Azkaban."
"Of course I won't. I can't be sentenced to it, either, though. I won't force the children into hiding because Mummy Dear is a fugitive and won't give herself up because she's selfish and—"
"You're not selfish."
"Of course I am."
Parkinson cleared his throat, and they both glared at him. He blushed again and fidgeted with his paperwork.
\\
They went to Edinburgh, the folio of Severus's new holdings shoved into an inside pocket of his frock coat. Neither of them knew what to say about it, so they didn't.
"Mum!"
It was all she could do not to cry when she opened the door to the flat and Ellie flung herself into her arms. The others weren't far behind, mobbing her and Severus. There were tears, mostly her own. They ended up on the couch, the five of them all piled together.
Hermione had never been so exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally—in her life.
Every few minutes, some new thought would pass through her head. Something else she had to do. Something else she'd been lucky to escape. The relief was beginning to settle in—they'd survived, their kids were okay, they were okay. And Minerva and Hagrid were fine. And Poppy was in full form. The Weasleys were okay. Ron and Harry were okay. She was okay.
"Is the fighting done?" Ellie asked, looking up at them with narrowed, assessing eyes.
"For us it is," Severus said, drawing her close again and stroking her hair, soothing.
"Are you sure?" Sofia asked.
"I hope so."
\\
Eventually, some alert from the wards called Severus back to Hogwarts. (She was thankful she couldn't hear the wards off the grounds, but she knew better than to mention it.) Hermione packed up what was left at the flat and then took the children shopping.
Severus had gone out and bought a few necessities for them, but, unless they planned to make a quick trip to Australia (and she really didn't feel like tackling the legal issues waiting for them there at the moment), the children needed more than a few things if they were going to feel at home, and better to do it before the press realized they existed.
It was approaching dinnertime when they finished. Each child had a sturdy bag full of things they could call their own—from underwear to crayons—and they followed her into the alley around the corner from the last shop with satisfied looks on their faces.
She Apparated them to the gates of Hogwarts. It might've been easier to bring them straight to Severus's rooms and stow their things away, but they'd never seen the outside of the castle. While it was hardly at its best at the moment, all the bodies had been cleared away.
"Woah," Bast said, grinning up at the castle. They had a perfect view of the gentle slope up from the gate. There were trees down and great scores of overturned dirt, but it was still a magnificent place. Turrets and towers, the Quidditch goals just in sight above the line of the stands (which were still smoking a bit), the dark trees of the forest already casting evening shadows. It smelled like fresh-turned dirt and fire, but they weren't rancid smells any longer, just outdoors smells.
"So Hogwarts is safe now?" Bast asked.
"Yes," Hermione said, taking his bag and kissing the top of his head. She repeated the motion with the girls, Shrinking all three bags down and putting them in her satchel. "There are still things to be careful of, but it's safe."
"Careful of things like that, huh?" Bast asked, pointing to the warped remains of the main gate. The metal was bent and brutalized, and somebody had moved it off to one side of the perimeter wall.
"Exactly." She cleared her throat then, and crouched down so she was more on their level. "I want to tell you one thing before we go in." They looked at her, nervous. The girls had habitually arranged themselves on either side of Bast, and they grabbed his hands now. It was adorable, and it hurt her heart. She cleared her throat. "You know Daddy was pretending to be a bad guy this year—"
"He was a spy!" Bast said in an excited whisper. The notion was very romantic to a six-year-old.
"Yes," Hermione said. "But that means that he had to keep lots of secrets. Most people don't know that we're married to each other. And some of the people who know that secret don't know about you three."
"We're a surprise," Sofia said, grinning. Elaine echoed the grin, and Hermione caught herself smirking back at them. It was lucky they liked the idea of being a surprise, because it could very easily be an uncomfortable experience if they didn't start in on it with the idea to enjoy it.
"A lot of people are going to be very surprised," she said.
"Do you think some of them are going to be mean, Mum?" Ellie asked, seeing the underlying problem like she always did.
"I'm worried they might be. If anybody is mean to you, or if anybody asks you questions that you don't like, just tell me or your dad. You don't have to answer any questions at all—we'll answer all of them, and if they don't like our answers—"
"They can get stuffed!" Bast said excitedly, and she fixed him with her best Mum Look.
"That's not polite to say, Bast." He looked down at his feet. "But yes. They can." He grinned cheekily up at her.
"Let's get on, then." She looked them over once, settling Basts's jumper over his shoulders more evenly and fussing with the girls' hair a bit before she realized she was stalling, not wanting to share her children with the world, and stood up again.
"Hol' on there!" Hagrid called, jogging out of the dark. He had his pink umbrella tucked under his arm. "Nobody's allowed ter enter the school righ' now. Not unless yer here on—oh, 'ello 'ermione. I din' recognize ye."
"Hello Hagrid." She grinned. "Are they serving dinner in the Great Hall, do you know?"
"Yep. They got the, er—they cleaned it out real nice this afternoon. Everybody's up there righ' now."
"Will you come up with us?"
"Got ter watch the gate."
"What if we blocked it off? Official people are mostly going to arrive by Floo, right?"
"'S'not the official people I'm watchin' fer."
Hermione smiled and charmed the two mangled halves of the gate to patrol. They looked a bit mean, actually, moving themselves around using their four corners (which were in no way evenly spaced after all they'd been through). She conjured glowing letters outside the wall to tell people the school was closed to guests until morning, and then she nodded to Hagrid.
"Please come up to dinner with us?"
"Be glad to," he said, grinning back at her.
They fell into step, walking slowly so the girls wouldn't have trouble keeping up, and Hagrid asked, "So who've ye got with yer, then?"
"Sebastian, Sofia and Elaine," Hermione said, pointing to each of them in turn. The girls had grabbed her hands while Bast ran on ahead to look at exposed roots and charred grass and things. He chose that moment to find a worm and picked it up, headed for Sofia, who squealed.
"Bast, stop it!" Sofia said, releasing her grip on Hermione's hand to run around the other side of Hagrid to hide from the worm.
"What? It's just a worm," Bast said, waggling the worm at her. "Are you scared of a worm?"
"It's gross."
"Bast, put the poor thing back where you found it," Hermione said, and, reluctantly, Bast did. She rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid I can't claim that they're usually better mannered than that."
Bast grinned cheekily, walking backwards in front of them. Sofia, head held up like a queen, returned to Hermione's side. She stuck her tongue out at her brother after she had a hold of Hermione's hand again.
"Seem pretty good ter me."
"Yes, I'm rather fond of them." Ellie giggled. "Children, this is Rubeus Hagrid. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures."
"Rubeus like me?" Bast asked.
"Exactly like you."
"Cool!" Bast stopped right in front of Hagrid and held out his hand to shake. "Hallo, Mr. Hagrid. My name is Sebastian Rubeus Snape!"
"Sebastian R— Snape!" Hagrid laughed. "Well then ye'd better give me a hug, eh lad?" He bypassed Bast's hand to scoop him up into a hug. Bast looked startled, but Hagrid put him down and drew Hermione into a bone-crushing hug before the boy could decide if he was going to be upset or not. "I dunno what ter be surprised abou' first!" Hagrid said, pulling out a disgusting hanky to wipe at the tears on his face. "Tha' i's you and the perfessor, tha' you got kids at all, or that' ye named 'im after me!"
He blew his nose noisily, and Hermione patted his big arm.
"When did you even have time—how did...?"
"Dumbledore gave me a Time Turner. This wasn't what he intended me to use it for, but..." She shrugged, smiling over at her children. The girls had assembled on either side of Bast again, the worm incident forgotten. "I think it was worth it."
Hagrid laughed and hugged her again. The laugh turned into the infectious belly-laugh sort, and he had to put her down to mop at his face again.
"He tole us he was marrit with kids yesterday, I jus' thought 'e was jokin'!"
Hagrid chuckled all the way up to the school. Not even the doors to the entrance hall hanging loose in their frames damaged his mood. Instead, he held open the side that had been banging in the breeze and grinned hugely as they walked through.
"Sebastian Rubeus," he said under his breath as Hermione passed, and she squeezed his arm.
The entrance hall was mercifully empty. There was rubble here and there, and the main staircase looked iffy enough that she decided they'd use a different one when it was time to go up to Severus's rooms.
"Oh," she said when they came to the doors to the Great Hall. The doors stood open, all the floating candles lit. The room was entirely undamaged. The ceiling showed a spectacular sunset. The most amazing part was that it was full of people, though. Happy people. The House tables weren't full by any means, but they were approaching half capacity. The air was full of happy chatter.
Teachers, students, villagers from Hogsmeade, Aurors and a handful of Healers from St. Mungo's filled the tables. Severus, paler than he should be but looking remarkably well overall, sat at the near end of what was usually the Hufflepuff table. Minerva was directly across from him, Flitwick and Hooch on Minerva's right. There was a noticeable (though not quite sizeable) gap between the pod of teachers and the rest of the people at the table. Hermione noted a few Aurors down the table who seemed to be keeping an eye on Severus, which still annoyed her even if it didn't surprise her.
"I see Daddy," Ellie said, squeezing Hermione's hand a little tighter.
"Can I go over there?" Bast asked.
"Go on ahead."
Bast darted off, expertly dodging around a spacy Luna Lovegood making her way to what was once the Gryffindor table. Luna didn't notice him, but most of the people at the nearby tables did. By the time Hermione and the girls were coming up on Severus and the rest, most of the hall had gone to whispers. Hagrid, still grinning from ear to ear, sat down on the bench to Severus's left, patting him on the back so enthusiastically that Severus's face almost ended up in his plate.
"Sebastian Rubeus," she heard him say again while he began loading up a plate.
Hermione put her hand on Severus's shoulder as she stepped over the bench to sit down next to him. Ellie crawled up between them, smiling at the faces around them shyly. Sofia disappeared for a moment and reappeared on the other side of the table, beaming at Minerva.
"Don't crawl under tables, Sofia," Severus said, though without any real admonishment. "It's where people put their feet."
She stuck out her tongue, and he raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled at him, and he smirked back.
Hermione almost cried. It was halfway to a normal dinner at their haven in Australia, Severus flirting with the children. Bast had Hagrid on cloud nine, telling him all about himself and how he could even spell Rubeus, and how Severus called him "Rube" for a week once just to annoy him. Sofia, somehow, had learned that Minerva was an Animagus, and hounded her with question after question about turning into a cat (with the obvious intent to nick a wand and give it a try as soon as the opportunity presented itself).
They chatted and smiled, enjoying Hooch's reaction to the children best of all, until Ellie fell asleep in her pudding.
"Okay, that's the cue," Severus said, scooping Elaine up off the bench and putting her head on the shoulder without the bandage. As usual, Hermione's heart melted a little to see him with one of their children like that.
"Aw, come on, Dad. I'm not tired," Bast said, but he shoveled the last of his pudding into his mouth and chewed quickly anyway.
"Walk around the table this time, Sofia," Hermione admonished, catching the little girl about to duck down. Minerva helped, snagging Sofia around her waist and setting her on her feet behind the bench. The girl sulkily walked down the table and around.
"Nine o'clock tomorrow, Severus?" Minerva asked, finishing off her own pudding. She was smirking, obviously quite tickled at the picture of their little family. Hermione was still riding the wave of relief that had begun when she walked into the Hall, so she didn't mind.
"Yes. The Board will be here at half past for their tour." He sounded annoyed, resigned. Hermione smirked.
"Bye, Mr. Hagrid!"
"G'nite, Bast." Hagrid was tearing up a little bit again, but he was smiling.
"Oh, I'm not going to sleep," Bast promised, raising his eyebrows. Hermione smirked at him.
"Want to bet?" she asked.
By the time the reached the doors to the Great Hall, Bast had taken Severus's free hand and allowed himself to be led sleepily out. Hermione had picked Sofia up and followed, and she tried not to notice that everybody in the room was staring after them as they went.
Upstairs, the process of pajamas and brushing teeth was surprisingly argument-free. Before long, the three of them were comfortably snuggled in the huge bed, and Hermione and Severus were alone in the sitting room. They'd put pajamas on, too, and sat together on the sofa watching the fire.
"Do we even bother transfiguring it?" she asked, leaning back and letting her head loll over as she looked at him. He looked as tired as she felt and then probably a bit more.
"It's got to be a bit wider, at least," he said, pulling his legs up before flicking his wand at it. The sofa instantly jumped into a slightly more bed-like shape, and a few more jabs of his wand added proper pillows at one end.
She smiled when he crawled over to her, pulling her to his chest and sinking down onto the sofa-cum-bed. She threw a leg over his thighs and wrapped her arms low across his waist as he held her head to his chest, his arms solid around her. He had a hand suspiciously close to her ass, but she thought that was more from habit than anything else—they were both too tired for any proper hanky-panky.
\\
She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept that well. It had probably been in Australia.
Hermione woke at dawn, overly hot and still held tight to Severus's chest. The smell of him was everywhere, warm clean man. She was mostly on top of him, using him as both pillow and mattress; he didn't seem to mind.
"Good morning," she said, burrowing into his side more snugly and looking up at his face.
He shifted, putting his hand under her chin and tipping her face up so that he could kiss her. She smiled and let him kiss her, opened her mouth and slid her tongue along his.
"I missed you," he said, pressing his forehead to hers and just breathing for a moment. "I missed you so much, Hermione."
"I love you," she said, squeezing her eyes closed and wrapping her arms around him.
He was shaking, trembling in her arms.
"It's over," he whispered. "It's over, it's over."
A/N: So I need to write a better summary for this story, and your input would be more than helpful. Feel free to send any ideas via PM if you don't want to put it in a review.
And have I mentioned lately that you guys are awesome? Because you are. It really does make my day when I open up my email and it's full of notifications that people are responding to what I've written. This story takes up about 90 percent of my "me time," and I don't actually know anybody who is as into Harry Potter and fanfiction, so your feedback is the only affirmation I get that I'm not a weirdo dedicating way too much time and thought to a story about a story.
Anyway. I hope you liked this chapter—I've dubbed it "the beginning of the end" in my head. So. We're getting close to over now, and I'm really trying not to let it be one long checklist as I tie off the various loose ends and such. There will be an epilogue for that, which means we get to have a few twists and turns in the "falling action" here, right?
Cheers!
— M