The new day matched Hermione's mood: just as overcast, damp, and hopeless. And, of course, she should have paid a little more attention to what was happening and remembered about her work, but the morning after a hangover was what it was. And a bottle of wine, drunk yesterday alone in honor of her personal disastrous year, of course, made itself felt.
If only Harry could see her now! She rubbed her temples with cold fingers and desperately wished for a hangover potion to appear. Or at least an aspirin. Field practice was the most disgusting thing to spoil all her plans for the blues today. A headache made it difficult to concentrate, and flashes of the jinxes, hexes, and darker curses flew overhead. Aurors ambushed merchants of illegal goods such as fairy dust, obsidian crystals heavily guarded by the Magical Law Enforcement, or mermaid tail scales. A normal day at the Magical Police Department.
Hermione squinted her eyes tightly, shooting back listlessly, and muttered angrily about what the hell she had forgotten here on this gloomy day at the end of September. She honestly made a promise to herself to visit at least one of the librarians mentioned by her husband, but overslept for work, was reprimanded by the immortal old goat Alastor Moody, who was up and running again, and as punishment went to field practice to guard the freshmen.
One would imagine that this was exactly what she dreamed of when she hurriedly passed her NEWTs and physical fitness exams. She didn't want to think about the scandals with Snape's portrait. He poured insults in such a way that, surely, he would burn a hole in the canvas, and the venom oozed out of him. Well, her husband always expressed his concern in a rather strange way.
Hermione, after all, twisted the dark magician who had been annoying her melancholy for the past hour and a half and leaned wearily against the wall. Beer! She'd trade her soul for beer! Or at least for a cup of tea. The aforementioned husband ignored her all this morning, and not to say that she really wanted to listen to his ornate speeches. Sometimes, when the melancholy and the blues became unbearable, Hermione pretended that she did not know anyone from her past life, and rushed to administer justice in the field. Well, the nickname Mad Fury, which her grateful colleagues awarded her with, was fully deserved by her. When someone has nothing to lose, they have no equal in rage and skill.
All sorts of uninvited thoughts climbed into her head and she told herself strictly that it was high time to forget about it. And move on. Isn't that what they dreamed about, breathing in the air of victory? About a new life? About a new path? About dreams and goals? About plans? About happiness? Hermione ran her hand over her face and tossed her curls angrily. Personally, she dreamed of something else. Definitely not about how she would put flowers on the graves of the fallen. She did not slaughter sheep for the sake of the Greater Good.
She remembered how three years ago Dumbledore had woken her in the middle of the night and told her to come to his office as soon as possible. She blindly fumbled in the dark for a wand and a robe and, barefoot as she was, she ran along the stone steps of the castle towards her fate, which changed everything.
She ran along the corridors, where she was happy and unhappy, where she believed and regretted, where she was at home, but in some way, she forever remained a stranger, where she fought for happiness and the right to be herself. Then she still knew how to fight. And it seemed that she didn't care then that people around her were already dying, that the victory seemed illusory, like a mirage in the desert, and that children definitely shouldn't fight. And were they ever children?
The heated conversation heard even through the thick walls of the castle, made her stop at the very door and strain her ears. Professor Snape yelled in a way she had never heard in her life. The potion master rarely resorted to shouting at all, preferring cold, insinuating fury that made your blood run cold.
"Dumbledore, you can spin your spidery schemes as much as you like, but this is already too much even for you!" Snapped Snape, pacing the office. The sound of his dragonhide boots echoed off the walls of the Headmaster's office.
"Severus, my boy, you know it's for your own good, don't you?" Dumbledore replied calmly and measuredly, stirring his tea in a large china cup with ugly lilies. Hermione had always had a wild imagination.
"What more would you require of me to win your own game of madness and common sense? When we lost everything we fought for, you too delivered your eulogies of true love and a happy ending, didn't you, Headmaster? Back then I still could have changed the outcome!"
"Sit down, Severus! For the time being, I am the Headmaster of this school and the commander of the Order of the Phoenix, and it is up to me to decide which step in our strategy to take!"
Snape seemed to turn abruptly and stand directly in front of Dumbledore, gazing down at him from his height.
"When I lost Maya, you said the same thing, when we buried the Potters and gave Harry away to complete strangers, you said that everything would change for the better. When Black fell into the Veil two years ago and you didn't even let me use the invoking ritual, you reassured everyone that it was better for the boy who had lost his last family! When the last Time-Turner was broken in front of my very eyes, you offered me tea. When I swore to fulfill your barbaric promise, you said that my soul was no longer precious to anyone. And that for a traitor like me, one more murder, one less. What the hell, Dumbledore? For what purpose did you make me into a monster?"
"Shut up, Severus, I won't tolerate that kind of tone in my office! And you have no moral right to blame me-"
"And you have no right to send me to the slaughter of babies! Your arguments no longer have any weight or meaning! This goes beyond all limits!"
"Who, if not you? Who else will help her? Answer me, Severus."
"I had the opportunity to help her sixteen years ago when you snatched the opportunity from my hand along with the wand. Only, you know, Dumbledore, a dark wizard of my level, which I also became thanks to you, does not need a wand to strangle you on the spot."
Hermione tensed, thinking hard about whether she should come in right now or ask the portraits to wake everyone up. Snape had always given her some misgivings, but his words sounded like open assassination. The portrait of Phineas Black made a warning gesture and motioned her to keep listening.
"Show me your Patronus, Severus, and you don't have to accept my offers."
"What else should I do for you, Headmaster?" I gave you my life, my freedom, my happiness, and my magic in exchange for a promise you never kept! Expecto Patronum!"
A lynx jumped out of the Headmaster's office and galloped past Hermione, finally turning around and, as it seemed to the witch, looking at her with regret. No matter what anyone said, she stubbornly considered the Patronuses to be conscious beings. A lynx... She had never seen Professor Snape's Patronus, and such a beast, to be honest, even surprised her a little. She expected a bat or, at worst, a Thestral, but not a huge cat.
"Tell me, Severus, are you ready to lose everything a second time?"
"Damn you, Dumbledore! Miss Granger, stop eavesdropping under doors and come in at last!" Snape snapped, and Hermione rushed inside, flushed with shame and cold with horror.
Snape seemed ready to incinerate anyone with a look, but for some reason, he hesitated. She sank back into the chair and clutched the cup of tea Dumbledore had kindly offered to her. Following the cup, they shoved into her hands the latest Decree on Marriage, adopted no later than this strange night. The Headmaster scratched his beard, waiting for an answer to the unvoiced question. Snape paced up and down the room, listing rosy vistas.
"You can, of course, flee the country, but from my sources, it is known that you are being watched. And if not you, then your parents will certainly become victims of tragic circumstances. You can wait until the end of the year, but then the Ministry will send you a long list of potential candidates, like, say, Yaxley, Rookwood, Mulciber, who else is single and deadly dangerous there? Or you can accept this strange offer that our esteemed Headmaster is trying to force on you and become Madam Snape for your own safety. There is, perhaps, Lupin, but he, how should I say it, is a representative of the forbidden race and we need him more in matters of strengthening external magical ties. In a year or two, the Decree will be canceled. Or the war will start, and then we won't care anymore."
"You've always been incredibly optimistic, Professor," Hermione couldn't resist a remarque, suddenly realizing that she had nothing more to lose.
Snape suddenly shuddered and looked at her strangely. Dumbledore smiled into his beard and slammed the cup against the saucer.
"It's decided, my dears! We'll have a wedding ceremony at dawn!"
He talked and talked, and Hermione looked Snape straight in the eyes, for the first time catching human emotions in his eyes, instead of a bottomless black abyss.
A lot of time passed, and Hermione never found out what secrets her husband took with him to the grave. The man who managed to save her no matter what and in spite of everything.
Not noticing the dark curse flying directly at her, Hermione was hit right in the chest and slid down the wall. Great start to a wonderful day!