A/N: So sorry for the delay, guys. I have been quite busy last week... Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 19: Come, Let's Face It
Occlumency lessons with Snape did not bother her anymore, Hermione realised while composing herself after the last invasion of the day. She could conceal her mind with strong, impenetrable Shields. If she were to stand before Voldemort today, she could at least hide herself, if not convince him completely of her supposed allegiance to him.
In recognition to her progress, Snape nodded. His wand hung loosely in his fist. "I believe, now, we must primarily focus on your ability to keep a few memories afloat over your Shields."
Hermione mumbled a 'yes' in agreement. Altogether there was significant time until Halloween, it would not harm to be over-prepared before facing those atrocious faces at the Malfoy Manor.
Hermione got to her feet and swung her satchel over her shoulder.
Her eyes spotted the date scribbled on top of a student's unmarked essay, now sitting in a stack on the Professor's desk—Nineteenth of September, her birthday.
Every year, until she was in the Muggle world, Hermione's birthday began with fluffy pancakes for breakfast and ended with a delicious dinner at a fancy restaurant with her parents. Cake and gifts were obviously a part. Though her parents never spoiled her with expensive gifts as a child, they did dote on her quite liberally on that special day. Their presents were always very reasonable. Being Dentists, her birthday was one day they imposed no restrictions on their little daughter's consumption of sugar. After coming to the Wizarding World, they always sent her letters and their presents through an owl, that Hermione received during the breakfast, except that one year when they had, instead, asked her to get a familiar for herself as a gift.
Now on her birthday, Hermione had found herself hoping that somehow an owl would deliver her a letter and a parcel from her parents. The more rational part of her knew how childishly foolish the wish was. But the more wishful part knew no bounds. But as she had sat in the Great Hall this morning, with her friends wishing her a Happy Birthday and giving her beautifully wrapped gifts, her eyes spotted each and every owl that had flew in bearing packages. But none had come near her. No golden eagle from the Heavens above descended upon her shoulder to whisper into her ear a message sent by her parents.
By the end of breakfast, she had three wrapped gifts before her from Harry, Ron and Ginny, yet she felt as if the world had forgotten her big day.
'Well, somebody is going to be of age, though. Adult, huh?'
'Yes, I'm so excited. I can finally join the Order.'
Part of her last conversation with her Dad had assaulted her mind throughout her day.
She definitely did not feel like an adult... In fact, she felt a lot vulnerable than one expected an adult to be.
Hermione ran a hand through her hair and tore her eyes from the stack of essays. She swiftly reinstalled her memories in her mind from the Pensieve before her awkward movements could ignite suspicion in Snape.
UUUUUUU
Severus stood observing the girl. Nothing much had changed since their last lesson together. Granger was as morose and lost as she had been since the first day of term.
The mystery that the girl was, was nudging at his mind constantly. He found himself frustratingly at a loss. He could do little to elicit a reaction other than perhaps sobs from her. Yet, he—for inexplicable reasons—desperately wanted to make a difference, if only for his own satisfaction of having prevented her well-organised mind from deteriorating itself. Granger deserved better but it seemed that the shadow of her past was far from letting her live in peace.
He watched her inserting her memories in her head and something clicked.
"Miss Granger," he said before he lost the words behind his deplorable social skills, "Are you still in need of a Pensieve?"
Granger looked at the basin for a long moments before slowly nodding thoughtfully. Severus assumed she needed the Pensieve to revisit some of her memories with her family. Maybe recalling a few incidents vividly would help her come to terms with the reality. People, after all, had different defence mechanisms. While he suppressed and pretended to forget, Granger might wish to recall.
"You may have my Pensieve, in that case," he offered. "You can bring it with yourself for our next lesson."
The girl looked at him somewhat incredulously. Her shock flickered unabashedly on her face. Even Severus was a little shocked at his own actions. He had never been a giving man, after all. "Your...Pensieve...? Are you sure, Sir?"
Severus let nothing pass on his countenance. He suppressed his natural retort of 'Do I strike you as someone who makes such offers lightly, Miss Granger?' and instead said, "I am not in any immediate need of the artefact. You may use it if you so wish."
Granger gave into her habit of biting her lip and a ran a hand over the rim of the basin, abstracted. "Thank you," she said softly. "I think I do need this."
Severus nodded. He shrunk the artefact to be carried. Granger safely stowed it in her satchel. With his peripheral vision, he noted a slight shaking of her hand as she handled the Pensieve, as if too apprehensive to finally use it. He shrugged it away in presumption of her impending wish to go over jolly moments from her past. If it meant the girl so damn much, he cursed himself for not letting her use it earlier!
This time before leaving, Granger paused by the door and mumbled, "Good evening, Sir."
The door closed behind her, leaving Severus to freely let his lips twitch upwards. At long last, he had done something right to her.
UUUUUUU
Next day, Hermione's concentration in Professor Sprout's class was time and again wavering to focus on the more pressing issue on her mind—Snape's Pensieve. She had been a bit surprised the day before when he had offered it himself. But of course, Hermione had accepted it.
It had been quite long since Professor McGonagall had given her the memory vial. It was an Order evidence, Hermione believed. Thus, the Professor could anytime want it back. Hermione decided to watch the memories as soon as possible.
Though the thought of going through that night again frightened her, she knew she needed to know the truth and pull herself out of the dilemma of whom to trust and whom not to. A more logical part of her was telling her that Professor McGonagall wouldn't have given her the vial if not to prove Snape's innocence but the other part argued that perhaps Snape was not all white or all black, and that she was given the memories to decide for herself or at least to know exactly what had happened on the night that had forever changed her life.
Her sharpest guess was to find out that Snape had mercilessly killed her parents to save his cover and her life, both. But even he was reluctant to the bonding ceremony. Because after knowing the man for the last few months, she could tell that though he could be a heartless murderer but he was not a twisted pervert. Somehow, after his rare show of generosity last evening, thinking of him as a 'heartless murder' didn't sit quite well.
"Miss Granger," Professor Sprout called. Hermione looked up. "Yes, Professor?"
"Would you like to answer the question for us?" The Professor asked politely.
Looking around at the clueless faces Hermione realised that her batchmates were yet again caught at a loss on being questioned. But Hermione had not been paying attention in class either. Hermione was supposed to keep her head clear, but here she was staring blankly at her teacher. Yet another reason to watch the memories and level her head.
She glanced down at her book but blushed to herself on realising it was sitting upside down, open on a random page. "Um..." She bit her lip. Surreptitiously, she grabbed her book off the desk before the Professor spotted it.
"I...I'm not sure, Ma'am," Hermione mumbled.
Professor Sprout looked to have been quite shocked at Hermione's response. Even a few students looked back at her in surprise.
"Oh, never mind, never mind," the teacher said kindly. "Anybody else? No? Alright, let me explain then..."
Both Ron and Harry's faces reflected the shock. "You okay?" Ron mouthed.
Hermione nodded and looked away. Her face was beginning to heat up in embarrassment. But not as much as it would have been, for still she was more bothered about the Pensieve.
She could feel the weight of someone's gaze on the nape of her neck, and looked back. Among the Slytherins, Malfoy was smirking at her. Hermione frowned—surely, they weren't children anymore to mock one another on such petty happenings in class. She rolled her eyes and turned to face the Professor in front.
Hermione tried to follow and note some points from the lecture until a crumpled piece of parchment landed on her desk. Hermione looked at her friends but Ron and Harry were both reading something in a hidden Muggle magazine and covertly snickering. Hermione shook her head—boys!
She unfolded the parchment, careful not to come under Professor Sprout's eye.
Why, Mudblood, too lost recalling the last night with your husband to focus today?
Hermione's face blanched. She swallowed hard. Malfoy knew? In sheer panic, she crumpled the note in her fist and shoved it in her pocket before somebody read the text.
When she took a clandestine peek at the blonde boy, he was still smirking derisively. Not only Malfoy, but Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Parkinson, each of them wore the same knowing look.
They knew. They all knew! Every Death Eater knew and God knew what they made out of it!
Last night with her husband? The words caused her stomach to churn. Then it struck her—she was with Snape last evening for Occlumency! Did the Slytherins see her? Did they think of her to be...
Bile rose in her throat. Hermione clamped a hand down her mouth tightly. It was only a matter of moments before her eyes were stinging with unshed tears.
She had assumed that coming to Hogwarts would give her normalcy. But here she was sitting in a class where half of her batchmates knew her dark truth and she was always with a fear that the remaining of her batchmates would know, too.
She wanted to burn the ring from her finger or sever the finger itself if need be! Oh, how she was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of just giving up! And she would, if it did not cause Snape his life, as well.
Get a grip, Hermione! The more intelligent voice chided her. She erected her Shields up to hide any sign of her distress from her peers.
You will go back and see the memories today. You will not foolishly think of dying!
She couldn't kill Snape, she reminded herself. Dying and giving up were not her options. She would face the truth. The very day itself!
"Today," she murmured to herself.
Throughout the lesson, three more crumpled parchments was sent to her. But Hermione knew better than to read any. But even as she was forced to stove them in her pocket, humiliation burned her. She couldn't believe herself to be the same girl who had once punched Malfoy in the face, for now she sat catatonic, unable to even pass him a glare. Because the truth of her life had stripped her of her self-respect long back.
UUUUUUU
Whatever little appetite Hermione had also vanished after considering what she would have to watch after lunch... The entire experience again—from Snape's vantage point. She would have to witness her parents dying again... Not that she was over the ordeal anyway... But on second thoughts, it was better to watch it before that wound could finally start healing—if ever it did.
The night was still fresh in her mind, their injuries, their eyes... That flash of green that changed Hermione's entire life. Maybe if she just knew the whole truth, she could manage to muster some power to move on a bit. But she highly doubted the possibility.
"How's the food?"
"Good," Hermione said mechanically.
"You can taste it with your eyes? I didn't know that, Hermione," Lavender snorted.
"Huh?" Hermione looked at her clean, empty plate and blushed. She was extremely distracted nowadays. "Oh, I'm...not that hungry, you know."
"Uh, Hermione," Parvati leaned closer, causing Lavender, too, to lean closer with strained ears. "Are you suffering from any...eating disorder? Or are you like...dieting really harshly?"
"What?" Hermione frowned. "Of course not!"
Parvati held up her hands. "Well, you have lost a lot of weight lately. I mean, we're your roommates, we can see you."
Hermione unconsciously folded her arms in front of herself defensively. "I generally have a small appetite."
"Extremely thin girls are not liked by guys, you know," Lavender snickered.
Hermione clenched her jaw in annoyance. "I don't remember asking for your opinion, Lavender." With that, she turned away.
"What did she say?" Ginny asked.
"Nothing," Hermione mumbled and reluctantly scooped a helping of potatoes in her plate. Honestly, she had not even noticed losing weight. Although she did dimly remember tightening her skirt waist with a Stitching Spell the other day.
"Small appetite or none at all?" Harry did not look at her, he remained eating.
He had heard them, she sighed. "I'm fine, Harry."
Harry did look at her, then. "If you say so."
"It seems your roles have been reversed!" Ron laughed, stuffing his mouth with chicken.
"But you will never change," she rolled her eyes—a deliberate effort to be her usual self. Hermione pushed a serviette in her red-head friend's hand, which earned her a blush from him.
Beside her, she saw Harry stiffling a chuckle in the guise of coughing, and felt a bit relieved. It would not bode well to make her friends more suspicious.
UUUUUUU
Initially, Hermione had considered watching the memories in the safety of her dormitory, hidden behind the curtains of her four-poster. But then she wondered what if her roommates discovered her. That would unleash a fiasco. Hermione needed a place that was safe and secluded.
The only place that came to her mind was the Room of Requirement. So, after coming back from the Hospital Wing, having finished her shift with Madam Pomfrey, Hermione decided to collect the Pensieve from her dormitory and head to the said room. She had time until dinner, anyway. With no lessons with Snape today (having spent the required thirty minutes in his class already).
On entering the common room when Harry and Ron asked where she was headed, she told them
that she would be in the Library until dinner. Considering for a moment, she then added that she might miss dinner as she was having an upset stomach. As the boys were themselves headed out to practise Quidditch, they did not put up much fuss.
She, then, went to her dormitory. in the locked drawer of her bedside cabinet, Snape's Pensieve was waiting for her. Hermione put it safely in her satchel. She extracted the small vial filled with Snape's memories that Professor McGonagall had given her, from her trunk, and put it gingerly in her satchel, too. Without forgetting, she fed Crookshanks her treats before leaving. If she could not return before curfew, Crooks would have been hungry.
With everything in order, Hermione left the Gryffindor common room to make her way to the seventh floor.
Her steps faltered with trepidation. Though not superstitious at all, today she was looking for any signs that indicated her to stop, to not watch these memories today. But let alone signs, not a person interrupted her on her short walk.
As Hermione reached the Room of Requirement, she was feeling anxious for what she was going to witness. She did not know how she would react if Snape was actually rendered innocent.
Hermione entered the room to find herself in a small sitting room. The fire was burning in the hearth of the cozy parlour. Comfortable red couches surrounded a wooden coffee table in the mustard-coloured room. The colours were comforting and warm. The Room welcomed her with open arms. Hermione had read that the castle was sentient, she wondered if Hogwarts, too, was signalling her finally face her fears...
As if the room had sensed her anxiety, it presented her with a cup of tea and biscuits on the coffee table. But she did not want to stomach anything before watching the awaited memories.
She put the basin on the table and re-sized it with her wand. Next, she took out the vial from her satchel and kept the said bag away. Hermione carefully uncapped the vial so as not to let its contents spill. She pored the memories into the Pensieve and watched as they swirled away. The stone basin now contained an imperative truth of her life. She watched the Pensieve with anticipation, vaguely running a hand through its cold stones.
"Come, let's face it, Hermione," she mumbled to herself.
Taking a deep breath, she lurched forward, and found herself falling into the never-ending depth of the memories that weren't her own, yet of hers.
UUUUUUUU
Hermione stood in an unrecognisable room, someone's bedroom. Her vision in the Pensieve was slightly skirted by a haze, signifying that it was a memory.
She looked around the room, a black-clad figure was laying on the double bed haphazardly, his position evident to his exhaustion. One of the two bedside tables held a reading lamp and an overturned copy of a book titled in Latin. On the other beside table sat an empty glass of water, instead of a goblet, along with three empty potion vials. In the bottom of one, the residual blue potion quietly remained indicating it to be Snape's potion for his muscle spasms. That was the only part of the room visible to Hermione in his memory.
She didn't have to wait long as instantly, Snape rose from his recumbent position with a jolt and cursed. Hermione realised that his forearm was burning. She watched him casting a Tempus, then spelling himself presentable, all the while in a foul mood. Suddenly, she just knew why sometimes he was exceptionally bitter in class—who knew, he might have to teach the loud, wayward, disrespectful students a mere hours after returning from a summon.
When Snape collected a new set of robes and a mask, that were laying abandoned on the floor, Hermione clenched her fists on spotting the Death Eater Mask—not out of fear, but out of anger that engulfed her every time she thought of Voldemort.
He led her to the living room of the Spinner's End, to the Apparition point and Apparated. Along with him, Hermione, too, found herself in the throes of magical travelling, sans the tug at her naval and overwhelming nausea.
They landed in the foyer of the Malfoy Manor. She vaguely remembered the place from the night of the attack. She deliberately did not pay too much attention to her surroundings, lest she flung herself into a fury and ended up interrupting with the memory with her magic. She only kept her eyes on Snape as he made his way into the meeting room that still haunted Hermione's nightmares.
The sight of Voldemort and the Death Eaters did not frighten her. If anything the repulsive faces elicited heated fury from her. Voldemort sitting on a throne sent shivers of anger down her. She listened to the exchange with much difficulty as half her instincts wanted her to strangle the inhumane beast before her. Hermione could also sense Snape's irritation as he stood before the other wizard. Let alone loyalty, his emotions reeked of frustration and eagerness to catch hold of the new strategy he was constructing to give the information to the Headmaster.
The evidence of his fidelity to the Order did not surprise Hermione anymore. She had been more than expecting it. But it did confirm to her that he was not double-crossing them in any way to later step in with the winning side. Snape genuinely worked for the Order like kingsley, Tonks and Professor McGonagall.
'...Anything that you have for me, my loyal servant?' The dark wizard spoke.
'Not much, I am afraid, My Lord, only that Potter is apparently in the depths of depression after losing his mutt of a Godfather.'
Hermione frowned when Snape began elaborating a fabricated tale of Harry's depression and an attempt to take his own life. At the back of her head, she felt thankful that it was only a story and vaguely admired Snape's confidence with which he narrated the episode.
She watched the scene unfold idly until Voldemort ordered, 'Bring her in!' She sensed Snape's thoughts as he tried to figure out who the mad wizard had in capture. For obvious reason, he never stumbled upon Hermione's name.
Helplessly, Hermione watched herself being dragged into the room by two men. She cringed at her own sight. In the backdrop, she was aware of Snape's shock, too. His thoughts raced when he was asked to kill her, excuse after excuse came and went by. But in the midst of keeping his facade as a Death Eater and saving his student, there was little he could do.
Until he finally managed to cultivate a way out. Unsure of his former Master's reaction, the Potions Master shared his supposed idea of using Hermione to keep a closer eye on Harry. The idea, much to Snape's relief, was accepted. But the acceptance came with a clause that changed their lives forever—the Dark Wedding.
The idea of involving himself with his student in such a bizarre ritual brought a sickening feeling to him. He debated with himself with a few moments that he stole to ruminate. At the end, it was not his will that mattered, but his duty as an Order member and a Hogwarts employee. It was with a sinking feeling that Hermione came to realise how not one but two pawns of the blood-streaked chessboard had fallen victims that night.
UUUUUUU
Granger was not present at dinner, Severus noted, eyeing the Gryffindor table surreptitiously.
There could be any reason she was not having dinner. He was aware of her duty with Poppy, perhaps that was keeping her. Or maybe the idiot girl was still in the Library, having forgotten to eat altogether. Severus didn't put it past Granger to compromise health for a few extra hours of reading.
Suddenly, he felt like a psychotic stalker keeping tabs on the girl. He looked away from the Gryffindor table where Potter and Weasley were dining casually, among the others.
He was not responsible for the girl, anyway. Minerva was—who was currently having a blithe chat with Albus, not to mention enjoying a good beef-roast. While having his own meal, Severus wondered if Minerva had talked to Granger about her sudden change in behaviour. He could not help but think how closely the girl was bordering on depression. After all, he knew the signs all too well.
Maybe that was why the girl had resorted to seeking Muggle company during the summer. Hadn't she hinted at the reason once? Since leaving the Muggle world of Spinner's End, she was hardly coping with the Wizarding World, as if it was too demanding on her.
Before the Thirty First of October, the Dark Lord would demand to see her. But Severus knew she would be prepared by then if she continued to go at the rate she currently was. It was only her fragile emotional state that bothered him.
But there was little he could do for her. The girl would never choose him to confide in. It was bound to be Minerva's department, not his. He was only to concern himself with her when it came to the Dark Lord. Nothing beyond that.
With that, he mentally shrugged himself—he should not care if she ate or not, that was for the girl's Head of House to consider. If the lady was satisfied with her student's behaviour, he could not question it. No matter how Severus wanted to inquire Minerva about the same, he firmly told himself that he could not cross the line that he had himself drawn regarding his role in Granger's life.
Bitterly irked, Severus stabbed a piece of potato with the sharp tines of his fork, vaguely imagining it to be the centre of all problems, the Dark Lord.
UUUUUUU
'What have I done!'
With those last words reverberating in her head in Snape's whispered voice, Hermione emerged from the Pensieve to find herself back in the Room of Requirement. She was grateful to be seated for her legs would surely have given away.
It was after long that she realised her hands were trembling and tears were spilling down her face. Soon, she could hear herself sobbing while her shoulders shook with guilt and grief.
She had blamed the man so blatantly throughout the last months, and for what? For providing her parents relief from pain? For saving her life?
Hermione had seen everything from when he was summoned by Voldemort; when he convinced the mad wizard of Hermione's usefulness in his plan; when he had to kill her parents for that was the only way to maintain his cover, saved her life, and rid her parents of the pain which they could have never recovered from. She felt his grief, his guilt, his remorse as he had cast the Killing Curse. His desperation to somehow hide the sight from Hermione. His helplessness when Voldemort had bound them into the clutches of the Dark Wedding. His growing sense of self-loathing as he was expected to take part in their vulgar jibes, when he had to slap her and call her Merlin knew what.
How at every step, he had compared himself to his father. How his mother's voice had echoed in his head as he was compelled to snatch Hermione's freedom from her.
That man had taken her to safety, had tended to her injuries, even then making sure not to touch her. His overwhelming regret and terror on the prospect of the consummation. How he had felt he was being a rapist.
And finally, he had cried. After years... The first after losing an old friend. He had cried because he felt so remorseful to have stolen from Hermione her entire life.
Hermione remembered Professor McGonagall telling her that Snape- No! How could Hermione still not pay him the respect that he so evidently deserved?
Hermione remembered Professor McGonagall telling her that Professor Snape would not have wanted her to watch the last part of his memories, for he had broken down—now, she knew.
He was the one who had given the Headmaster the intel about her being a target along with the others who went to the Ministry. He had taken an Unbreakable Vow to Professor Dumbledore. Yet, she had never trusted him. She did know that he had never taken advantage of her, even on the night of consummation. Yet, she kept looking for his ulterior motives!
Oh, God! What all did she say to him at the graveyard! How she had continuously accused him. Even attacked him physically, and he had neither stopped her nor defended himself.
"What have I done!" Snape's words escaped her lips.
Breathing was getting harder and harder as her heart was filled with the sense of overwhelming guilt. How could she have been so blind!
She kept revisiting the memories in her mind as tears remained slipping down her cheeks.
If anyone's, her Mum and Dad's murder was Hermione's own fault—because she was a witch, because she had gone to the Department of Mysteries, because she had neglected the Headmaster's letter, because she had not carried her wand around in her house, because she was ignorant and careless!
"Hermione, get a grip on yourself," she told herself. On cue, a glass of water appeared on the table. She gulped the cold liquid down her dry throat.
No, she needed to apologise to Sna- Professor Snape. She had to tell him that she had been gravely wrong... She had to go and tell him that she was sorry, so, so, so sorry... And grateful that he had done so much for her all along.
She wiped her face with her handkerchief. Her eyes fell on the memories swirling in the Pensieve. First, she would return the vial of memories to Professor McGonagall, then she would go to Snape- Professor Snape. Maybe her Head of House could tell her how she was supposed to apologise to him.
Hermione shrunk the basin and kept it in her satchel after extracting the memories from it and gingerly storing them back in the used, clear vial. Still trembling, she left the Room of Requirement, heading to her Head of House's office.
A/N: So she finally knows. The next chapter is that big event. Are you ready? ;)
Also, this chapter, I feel, is lacking at some places but that's because I couldn't edit it. I had no time to and I had to update... I might make some changed later, please bear with me for now. I promise the next chapter will be better.
I am so glad to read all the amazing, amazing reviews you all are leaving. Some of you have guessed what this big event is, but I won't comment upon your theories yet. :P You will all see what happens when I post next!
Also, we're going to hit a 100 reviews really soon. I have seen authors offering gift stories to celebrate such milestones. So I have decided to write a gift story for my 200th reviewer! Do let me know what you think of the idea! I'm quite excited for it.