Chapter 64: Sunday, March 1, 1981
"A half truth is even more dangerous than a lie. A lie, you can detect at some stage, but a half truth is sure to mislead you for long."
-Anurag Shourie
Hermione paced the garden behind her small cottage, her wand gripped tightly in her hand and frustration pulsing through her. She had been in the kitchen, working on replenishing her stock of concentrated pain potions casting basic conjuring and vanishing charms on the phials when her magic seemed to just… stop. Four times she said the same spell to vanish the mess from her cauldron and each time it was weaker than the time before. This hadn't been the first time over the course of the last few months that she found herself having to repeat an incantation to get it to work properly. She seemed to be having the most trouble with Lumos, as if her wand didn't quite want to light up as brightly as it normally did.
At first, she thought nothing of it. A strange fluke, a mis-pronunciation of the word or a too-sharp flick of her wand could easily dismantle even the most basic of charms and spells. But she had always been able to cast it on the second try. Today, however, she hadn't been able to get the damn spell to work. She knew she was saying it properly, she had said it a thousand times in her life! But this time, it barely took a layer off of the thick, blue liquid.
Hermione had gotten so flustered, she shoved her cauldron off the table and stormed outside for some fresh air. Perhaps it was lack of sleep? Merlin knew she didn't sleep well when Remus was gone, and he had been absent nearly the entire month of February without word of his well being. She had also visited Andromeda again, and the cracks in her memory had proved to be less fruitful and more confusing than ever before. Her mind seemed it fit to only give her the barest hints of memories from her past—swirling bits of information that hardly helped anyone. Single phrases uttered by people whose faces she couldn't see and voices she vaguely recognized.
On top of it, was the added stress of what Andromeda had brought up at the last meeting. That she needed to figure out a way to ensure that no one would remember who she was once she left. The idea of that alone had her stomach in knots most nights.
It's just stress. You're just over-tired and have too many plates spinning. She thought, scrubbing her face with her hands. Although…
She stopped pacing, her hands still stuck in her hair as a shiver from the cold air tore up her spine. Her mouth twisted off to the side and she made her way back into the house, in search of her personal journal.
Pulling out the brown leather book from her night stand, she flipped through to the back, where she kept a page of all her own vitals and notes and saw it had been well over a month since she had last checked them. Hermione sighed, feeling her throat constrict a bit as she performed the spell—twice—to pull the shimmery runes up and check her levels. Her heart fell from her chest.
The levels had dropped.
Thankfully, she had yet to be anywhere near a critical level. In fact, she still hovered around a level that was considered normal for most other witches and wizards. But, she had never been normal, had she? She worked for her intelligence, studious in all aspects of her life, researching every topic that floated her way and keeping notes and tabs on many things. Hermione had knowledge. But beyond that, she was gifted. A naturally skilled witch who had always found magic to come easily to her. And now, with a simple scouring charm taking as much effort as a a complex transfiguration, she felt frustrated.
You have to mean it, Harry would tell her, anytime they performed a difficult bit of magic. But, she meant every spell that flowed past her lips, and every time her hand would tingle as the magic was conducted through ten and three quarters inch of Vinewood and Dragon Heartstring. Everything in her life she worked hard for, every relationship, every ounce of knowledge, even healing she had worked hard for. But magic?She never had to work for it, magic had never been difficult.
Until now.
Hermione felt hot tears of frustration prickle at her lashes and she huffed indignantly, jotting down the runes and shoving the journal back into the drawer. So, her magic was perfectly average now. There was nothing wrong with ordinary! She would just have to work harder to ensure that it didn't make a difference, that no one would notice should she falter slightly.
She looked up at the clock on the wall and sighed again. A meeting with Snape had been set to begin in thirty minutes' time, and she was not prepared to deal with the attitude of Severus Snape and the backhanded comments she was sure he would give should her magic slip.
You're the same age now, she reminded herself. He's not in the position to bully and drag you through the mud. No matter how many times she said it to herself, she still found the thought of wanting to work with Severus Snape nearly appalling. She knew that in her time, he had died a noble death. He had worked restlessly with the Order and eventually, as so many others had, his death had come as a result of his dedication. However, it did not excuse a piss-poor attitude and a terrible penchant for making his students quiver with fear at the thought of entering his classroom.
Stuffing down the petty feeling of her fifteen year old self, Hermione quickly worked her fingers into her hair, plaiting it back from her face, and changed her clothes into something a little more respectable than the purple pajama bottoms and overly large jumper she had nicked from Remus while he was gone.
Dumbledore had arranged for the meeting to take place at a safehouse located in Yorkshire. It was a small cabin, set deep in the woods and as Hermione made her way up the overgrown path, she could see it was run-down and extremely ill kept. The logs that created the main structure looked moulded and it was obvious there was a termite infestation. The shudders hung broken from the cracked, filthy windows and from the doorstep, the smell of wood-rot assaulted her senses. She sighed, pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold, carefully closing the weathered door behind her.
The inside was not much better.
The wall paper was old and peeling in several places where the water damage from the roof had leaked down the walls. There seemed to be missing and loose floorboards throughout and the moth-bitten furniture all sat dusty and stale, the smell of mildew permeating throughout the structure.
"Lovely," Hermione whispered to herself as she made her way over to the small kitchen in hopes of finding a kettle.
She rounded the corner from the living room, looking around curiously, knowing that her distaste was displayed openly on her features. She stopped abruptly in the doorway, a black cloaked Severus Snape stood at the hob, his back turned to her as he lit a fire beneath a rusty kettle.
"Seems we had the same idea," Hermione said, setting her bag on the table and wrinkling her nose up at the layer of dust. She cast a silent scourgify, and sighed with relief when the spell worked on the first try. You just have to focus when you cast. No more mindless casting of spells…
Snape turned around, his hair hanging like inky black curtains on either side of his pale face, brushing the tops of his shoulders. He arched an eyebrow at her, a scowl set deep on his mouth. "You're late."
Hermione narrowed her eyes a fraction before looking at her watch, "I'm on time."
He huffed and turned back to the kettle, "Luckily punctuality can be overlooked."
Hermione bit back the urge to tell him exactly where he could stuff his punctuality and instead turned to her bag to pull out the two journals she had brought with her, her pen, and a tin with a few tea bags in it. Remus insisted she carried the tin in her bag, should they ever be somewhere that didn't have a supply readily available. The memory of that particular conversation brought a small smile to her face and she felt some of her tension ease. Merlin, did she miss him.
"I don't know if you brought tea, unfortunately all I have are bags, if that's okay?" Hermione offered, trying to extend a warm gesture.
"I have my own."
"Oh. Okay, then." Hermione let out a small sigh as the silence settled over them. God, this is painful.
The kettle whistled and Snape pulled it from the flame, cutting the heat and conjuring a mug. Hermione rolled her eyes as she conjured her own, pulling a bag from the tin and tossing it into the ceramic. She stepped next to Snape and held the mug out after he poured the water into his own. He seemed absolutely put out at the thought of pouring hot water into a cup for her, but obliged.
They made their way over to the old table and sat down. Hermione cringed at the sound of the wood scraping against the floor as they pulled the chairs out from the gouged wooden table, the sound cutting through the tension in the room and burning against her ears. She sat down and crossed her feet at the ankle, fiddling with the tea bag as it steeped. She wasn't sure how to breach an actual conversation with the man. He clearly did not want to be here and he seemed absolutely annoyed with her very presence.
Good to see some things never changed, she thought, amused.
"What are you smiling at?" Snape hissed, his tone cold and his eyes narrowed at her.
Hermione shook her head, "Nothing. Just making a mental note to thank Remus for making me stock tea in my bag."
At Remus' name, Snape sneered into his mug and took a sip. "Ah, yes. You're the werewolf's handler, correct?"
Hermione took in a slow breath through her nose, her teeth clenching as she tried to get the flare of anger in the pit of her stomach under control. "Don't call him or me that."
"Why not? It's not untrue."
Her tongue would bleed if she bit into it any harder, holding back the vile words she wanted to spit at him. At least he isn't a Death Eater. He may be a werewolf but he didn't have a choice in that! You did, you greasy git. Instead, she took a slow breath and sat up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders and making eye contact with him.
"It would be very unfortunate if people only called us by the terrible things we've been labeled in our past, wouldn't you agree?" With a massive amount of effort she left the Snivellus off the end.
Snape's eyes widened just a bit, but Hermione caught it. He had expected her to lose her temper, to lash out like James, Sirius, Remus and even Lily would have. She shifted in her seat, feeling quite proud of herself.
"Dumbledore suggested you had research that I may be in the position to help with," he said, swiftly moving past the notion of name calling and into the reason for their meeting. "I haven't got all day."
Hermione gave a terse nod and pulled the black journal out, passing it to him. He picked it up, his fingers running over the spine of it as he opened the leather book. His eyebrows instantly shot into his hairline in surprise before he schooled his features back into a mask of cool indifference.
"Where did you—"
"Where I got it isn't important," Hermione said. "I trust you recognize it."
"Obviously," he drawled.
"Good. I've started dismantling the spells to find counter curses. The Death Eaters have made it their mission to take out our ranks using many of the spells in this journal and you are going to help me create the spells and potions to use against them to heal the people getting hit."
"I'm not a healer."
"That's good. I don't need another healer—I need a Potion's Master."
He pulled his eyes up from the pages and Hermione caught the shining in the beedy obsidian eyes. The flicker of fear and maybe a shadow of understanding…? He pulled his line of sight back from Hermione to the beaten journal in his hands and began flicking through the pages again before he finally closed the book and looked up at her, his fingers twisting together. "Why did you come to me for help?"
"I told you, I need a—"
"A potion's master, yes. You've said that. However, Lily Evans is perfectly capable of brewing any one of these potions, why not ask her?" The smallest shred of remorse caused a hitch on Lily's name and he cleared his throat, his mouth carved into a frown as he looked up at her.
"I absolutely believe Lily Potter would be able to brew any of these. And to be perfectly honest with you, I think I could as well. Lily and my own abilities are not the issue here."
"Then why..?"
"Your initials are in that journal. You helped create these horrific curses, so you are going to help me fix them. I want to know everything. I want to know every single thought put into every single ingredient for the potions, for the formula that created the curses. I want to know what effect they will have on the people they hit and—"
"What makes you think I would know the effect they have?"
Hermione snorted at this, rolling her eyes. "Don't play ignorant now, Severus. I saw the room at the Ministry in the Spirit's Division with my own eyes. I've seen journals that were documenting the tests being run on muggles and wizards alike! I watched a potion that you brewed, no doubt, destroy my boyfriend in a matter of moments. Forcing him to transform outside of the lunar cycle. You helped make this mess, you will help me clean it up."
"How do you know who I am? I don't even know your name, and yet you seem to think you know everything about me."
"My name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said, a hint of annoyance in her tone at his deflection of responsibility for these curses. "You already know I'm dating Remus. Obviously that I'm friends with Lily, James, and Sirius…does it matter beyond that? Dumbledore seems to be under the impression that we can trust you, so give me a reason to trust you."
He took a moment, sipping at his tea as he seemed to mull over the information that she presented to him. He needed to help, he owed it to the Order to help! His hand had been one that wrote the death sentence of Fabian Prewett. A potion brewed that burned new scars of silver chain links into Remus' chest, back, and wrists. He had to help her. It was his quill that had even brought her here. A list of ingredients with a thin line drawn so carelessly, a thin line that marked her mistakes and a thin line that mocked her remaining months.
Finally, after ten long minutes of silence heavy between them, Snape let out a small sigh and set his mug off to the side. "Which ones have you started working on?"
Hermione couldn't help it. A victorious smile pulled her lips to the side, dimpling her cheeks and wrinkling her eyes. "I have all my notes right here…"
It was late when Hermione got back home. She and Snape had spent several hours picking apart the work she had already done on dismantling the curses and she discovered that he was no more pleasant to work with as a peer than he was as a professor. Exhausted and desperate for sleep, Hermione dragged herself into the house and jumped at the sight of Sirius on her sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table and a muggle magazine in hand.
"Sirius! Shit! You scared me half to death!"
Sirius peeked over his magazine and smiled, "Lily told me to bring you supper but you weren't home. Off on your own, are you?"
Hermione shrugged off her coat and hung it on the hook before padding over toward him, plopping down on the sofa and sighing heavily. "Doing some research for Dumbledore."
"On…?"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you!" Hermione teased, "Haven't been long, I hope?"
Sirius shook his head, "Only an hour. Any word from Moony yet?"
Hermione sighed again, pulling a throw pillow into her lap and hugging it to her chest. "No. And I've no idea where he's sent him this time. I don't like not knowing where he is! If I at least knew what colony he was working with I could—"
"You could what, exactly?" Sirius asked, tossing the magazine onto the table and turning a bit to look at her. "You can't really go looking for him, can you? We'll know if he gets hurt. He's come back every time."
"I know," she whispered. And she did. She knew Sirius was right, she knew when Remus was destined to perish—and it wasn't now. But she still couldn't help but feel terrified for him, knowing that he was surrounded by potentially hostile werewolves who did not appreciate an outsider infiltrating their packs.
"Has Pete been by?" Sirius asked, suddenly.
Hermione furrowed her brows together and looked up at him, "No. I thought he was out on another assignment?"
"Yeah…yeah, he is. I just…" He took a slow breath in through his nose, a motions she recognized from Remus as picking up a scent. "I thought maybe he had been here recently."
Something uncomfortable settled in the pit of Hermione's stomach, a feeling she couldn't quite name. "No, he hasn't been by."
Sirius shrugged, "Ah, well… Do you mind if I stay tonight? I told Prongs I'd be over early in the morning and it's easier than going back to London."
Hermione stood, making her way into the kitchen. "I don't mind, you know you're always welcome here."
He smiled and pulled her into a side hug, planting a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Thanks, kitten."
"Sure. No pubs though, I don't fancy a repeat."
A few hours passed and Hermione ate the food Sirius had brought over from James and Lily. They talked about the recent meetings and the shared worry over Frank and Alice Longbottom. Sirius was nervous about what had happened to them—worried they'd both die in their beds at St. Mungo's. There was also the disappearance of Benjy Fenwick that had been reported at the last meeting, something that had mildly shocked Hermione to hear. Benjy had seemed completely on top of security and even Moody had made it known that he took several precautions as an Auror that the rest of them probably wouldn't take.
What was the most concerning about Benjy's disappearance was the fact that he was mostly docile.Yes, he was an Auror, top of his field according to Kingsley and Moody, but he had a reputation for being rather calm in the Ministry. Quiet and collected, far more so than several of the other more well-known Aurors. Even Frank and Alice had made a fuss at the Ministry before their disappearance, making it very well known what side of the war they stood on and that they would not be swayed. But Benjy had remained quiet, kept his head down and did his job.
"Maybe he's working for them," Sirius suggested.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, looking up from the pint of ice cream she was sharing with Sirius.
"I mean," he said, dipping into the cold cream and cleaning his spoon before continuing. "That it's really weird that Alice and Frank were called out on New Years and they were the ones captured. Weren't they supposed to be in hiding? Doesn't it seem like someone knew they would be the ones called out to protect the Evans'?"
Hermione set her spoon in the carton, her stomach suddenly feeling sick again. She pushed the remainder of the ice cream toward Sirius and shook her head, "Dumbledore said they needed all hands on deck and—"
"We weren't called out," Sirius said, a hint of irritation in his voice.
He had a point, Hermione couldn't deny that. She had found it odd that the Order had made no effort to contact any of them on New Years Eve. It had been explained away, with the attack happening in Cokesworth, they needed Lily and James to stay home, to stay safe, but if Lily thought for one second that her parents or sister's lives were in danger, she would not have stayed behind. And neither would James.
It made sense, didn't it? Harry needed to be protected, ergo, Lily and James needed protection as well.
"What are you on about?"
"What if there's a spy?" Sirius said, "It's a little fucking questionable, isn't it? All this shit keeps happening, our people keep cropping up dead, injured or missing the same time Snivellus shows up? It's fuckin' suspicious."
"Snape didn't come to the Order until well after New Years, Sirius."
"Doesn't mean he wasn't working with Dumbledore before that," Sirius said, with a shrug. He dipped his spoon back into the ice cream, taking a bite and let the spoon rest in his mouth for longer than necessary before pulling it back out and waving it around as he continued, "For all we know, he could be feeding the Death Eaters information."
He is, Hermione thought. False information! "You're letting your hatred blind you."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"We'll agree to disagree then," Sirius snapped.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Fine."
Sirius polished off the carton of ice cream and Hermione opened a book on advanced spell building. They sat in silence until Sirius cleared his throat and Hermione sent a pointed look his way.
"Yes?"
"So…are you ever going to tell Moony?"
She didn't have to ask what he was talking about. She knew. Hermione slowly closed her book, placing a scrap of parchment in it to hold her place, and looked up at Sirius. "You haven't…"
"No," he said, quickly. "I haven't said anything. I gave you my word, and I won't go back on that. But you know you have to say something eventually, right? He's going to figure it out on his own if you don't."
"I'll be gone before—"
"That's not what he thinks."
Hermione's brows pulled together and she pressed her lips in a flat line, "What do you mean?"
"Moony seems to be under the impression that you're going to figure out a way to stay. He's been pretty vague about it, but he said right now you can't stay, but that he was going to find a way to change that."
Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "I made an Unbreakable Vow before I came here."
"Full of surprises, aren't you?"
"I had to!" Hermione said, suddenly feeling very defensive. "Sirius, you don't know what it's like! There are people here that I know, that I grew up with. That faced hardships that could have been avoided. And I can't change that—I can't do anything, and it's maddening! I had to make a vow."
"To stop yourself from spilling the future," Sirius said. "I understand that. Do you plan on actually trying to figure out a way around it, or are you just blowing smoke up Moony's arse?"
Hermione closed her eyes, her chest feeling tight with emotion and her nose itching with a sniffle. She cleared the thickness from her throat and blew out a shaky breath, "I can't stay."
"I reckon you found out about the only way to wiggle your debts from an Unbreakable Vow? It's sort of implied in the name, kitten. Of all people, I would assume you would figure that out."
Hermione huffed a mirthless laugh, "Yeah. Well, I didn't plan on coming here and falling in love." She could hear the pain and frustration in her own quiet tones and judging by the look of pity that flitted across Sirius' face, he had heard it, too. "At any rate, Remus won't take it for an answer. So, I tried to find a way around it. I read up on the Vow, asked around…"
"Came up short," he said, knowingly.
"Came up short," Hermione repeated in agreement.
"If you aren't going to be able to stay, I understand that. Messing with time is risky as it is, but staying in a time where you're technically alive, even as an infant…that could really fuck things up. I get it. But, you should still tell him about the curse. He deserves to know that there's a reason you have to go back."
"Will it make it any better?" Hermione asked.
"Will it make it any worse?"
Hermione's head fell back to the cushion as she sighed, pressing the heel of her palms into her eyes until glittering stars burst behind her lids. "I don't know," she groaned.
"Better find out, kitten. We don't know how long Doc was held in that cage but it didn't look pleasant. If that starts happening to you, Moony is gonna have questions."
Hermione pulled her head forward and pursed her lips, "When did you get so insightful?"
Sirius barked out a laugh and shrugged, leaning over to open up his muggle magazine. "Always have been. Just choosy about who I share it with."
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a/n: Hey, so you guys are all so lovely. I really appreciate the lovely words you left on the last chapter, although that was not my intention, the reviews were welcome and wonderful either way.
This scene chapter holds one of my favorite Hermione and Sirius scenes so far...and I hope you enjoyed it as well! I really hope you guys like their friendship as much as I love writing it! I know Sirius was an absolute walnut in the beginning, but I did promise it would get better, yeah?
Anyway, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are the best.
xo
mimi
