"Are you sure about this, Annie?"
Hermione was sitting in Cyd's office with Elpida. It felt like yet another interrogation. She'd done one with Dumbledore and McGonagall, one with Dumbledore alone, one with Lily and a glaring group of Gryffindors…
That was all post-battle.
The funeral had been earlier that morning, a somber affair at a Catholic church just outside of London. Fr. Quentin was the muggle son of two squibs and had learned enough about magic from his extended family, so there were a few theomagical elements added to the end of the ceremony.
It was brief, but an interesting addition.
"That this wand," snap of the wood, "may belong only to this witch." The wand was then disintegrated by Marina's father.
"That the pieces be returned to the wood from which they came." A spell murmured by the same man as her mother sobbed. "Just as we all return to our mortal state. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
Fr. Quentin blessed the people and prayed for Marina's soul before dismissing the crowd. Aurors stood at the doors, surveying the scene, but nothing unexpected happened.
After passing the family, and a hug to a pale, stone-faced Marlene, Ellie and Hermione left quietly, making their way to the ministry in silence.
Elpida's first words were not spoken until they had reached Cyd's office.
"You will have to fill me in, ladies." Sterling said. "I'm sure you have discussed things already, especially after the events of the weekend." He sighed. "I'm sorry to hear about your classmate."
"Thank you for letting us go this morning-"
"Oh, of course, of course." He waved it off, waiting for the girls to explain their plan.
"Sir-"
"Cyd, please. Anna."
"Cyd." Hermione nodded. "It is my intention to begin… traveling. I can do smaller timeframes and have reports ready to give. Ellie will support me if I need any… explanation as to where I've been."
"That's right," the blonde chimed in, looking at Cyd. "I've made sure the flat is ready today. Anna has given me permission to have a room furnished for her and waiting. If our flatmate or anyone else asks, she's traveling as part of her Department of Transportation work, testing out various Floo systems and their connections."
"That sounds appropriate." Cyd made a few notes. "That may be an unneeded precaution, as you mentioned you are rooming with your healing contact." They gave him a puzzled look. "Is that person a problem?" He said, concerned.
"No, I don't think so."
"Well, if you do have any healing emergencies, she may find out about the traveling. On a need-to-know basis, of course, but it may be necessary if you are injured."
"I haven't…" Hermione shrugged, realizing she'd be disclosing something further, but finding herself unbothered by it. "I haven't had any problems yet."
Cyd looked at her, a bit eagerly. "Oh?"
Hermione sighed and refrained from rolling her eyes. "Because I've made multiple trips." He pushed his pince-nez up his nose excitedly as he pulled another parchment close to write. "No details yet, I'm not ready."
"Oh no, no, Anna," he chuckled, scribbling furiously. "Information is information, data is data. As I said before, we'll take what you can give us. That's excellent! I'm glad you haven't had any health side effects yet."
"The reason I'm hesitant," Ellie chimed in, "is because of how far she wants to travel."
Hermione huffed. "That's hardly any time at all."
"Three months!" Ellie glowered at her. "Perhaps in the future it's nothing at all to jump forward in time, but the time turners we have here only go a few hours at most!"
"Perhaps," Cyd tugged at his greying beard. "Perhaps we could examine the time turner you-"
"No." Hermione stared both of them down. "Keep in mind, I've done this so far without help. My telling you my plans is merely a courtesy."
"I understand if you want to get away," Ellie said quietly. "But don't go so far."
"How about this," Cyd said in a helpful tone, standing from his desk and taking a leisurely stroll around the room. "You jump forward a shorter time period- a day, let's say, or a week. We'll examine you and make sure you're doing well. Then, we can reevaluate your plan."
"Fine." Hermione agreed too readily, she realized, but she had trouble caring about it. "I'll jump forward a week, you can take notes on my condition and then I'll see you in three months."
"Right, well, there is still the matter of, ahem…" Cyd cleared his throat and looked at her a bit nervously. "Rookwood. Your report?"
Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. She leaned back in her chair and thought for a little bit.
"He's a death eater," she said finally, opting for the truth. "He won't be found out for a few years, however, so not sure if it would even go anywhere if you raised the alarm or if it's prudent to do so."
"I see." Cyd leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling. "It would be an interesting way to test the inalterability of time if we tried to change that-"
"I'd rather not." Hermione said flatly. "I have enough to deal with. I'd rather just keep him away from me. It's imperative he doesn't find out about who I am."
Cyd grunted. "You realize then that I can't act on the information. Augustus Rookwood is highly regarded in this Department and the rest of the Ministry. I have to continue to treat him as the excellent employee and researcher he has proven to be."
"Just don't put him on this case."
"Well, he's already been working in the Brain Chamber for the last few years and he requested a change. If he's not to be on this case, then…" Cyd pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a folder, opening it, and thumbing through a few pages inside. "Then it appears the Hall of Prophecy and Prediction would be the best fit."
Hermione let out a bitter laugh, causing the other two to stare. Ellie frowned, looking even more concerned for her friend.
"Add something down about the irony of time. That has to be one of its properties. I guarantee it."
Through some miracle, Severus managed to drag himself out of bed with his packed bag, and to the Portkey office on time.
First, he took the authorized portkey to Paris and passed through the French Ministry's point de controle without issue. Next, after receiving a complimentary map and pictures of Wizarding France, he was able to apparate to La Brenne, a region in central France.
Once there, it was a few kilometers toPays des mille étangs de la Brenne, a nature reserve with a number of muggle and magical communes living surrounding the rivers Creuse and Anglin. It made sense that Master de Grasse had settled here and set up his Potions business and apprenticeship programme. The surrounding ponds and swampy area had plenty of diverse flora and fauna for ingredient gathering, and the rivers could be followed to find magical creatures that might spare hair, scales, skin, or blood.
Severus reached Sainte-Verene, one of the small wizarding communities near De Grasse's home and shop. It was small, with a few shops, an inn, a church, and some scattered buildings. The population was about 350. He didn't see a Potions storefront, and after stepping inside the grocer to ask about it in slow but discernable French, he was told that Monsieur de Grasse lived in an even smaller commune, Berry, a short distance away.
Berry was named for the original duchy in the province. When the last duke was killed, the name was lost to the muggles and the province was split, but the wizarding people hardly noticed. However, the commune of Berry had lost many of its people, who preferred to move to the slightly larger communes or even to the larger cities. Berry itself had only a chapel and some houses, enough distance apart to feel comfortably isolated.
De Grasse's house had two entrances. The shop entrance had a small sign on the door, reading "Potions for Sale" in both French and English. Severus opened the shop door and walked in as a bell dinged to announce his arrival.
"Tantôt!" He heard after a moment, and a very short man with thinning hair and a thick, white moustache shuffled into the room. He did not appear to be as old as 130, but this must be Master de Grasse.
De Grasse glared at Severus, staring him up and down, and he realized he was supposed to say something.
"Pardon… Je-"
"Engles is fine." Monsieur de Grasse seemed to have stared him down long enough and began shuffling around the room, placing jars on the counter. "It ees afternoon already, Su-verse Snape. We must begin."
Monsieur de Grasse was as exacting as his reputation.
The first day was spent only identifying ingredients, listing their properties, and what the most known uses for them were. De Grasse repeated the French name quickly after Severus listed the English, followed by another French word that Severus quickly realized was a shorthand name for the ingredient in some local dialect. It was clear the mastery would be a constant test of his memory and mental acumen.
After eight hours, they ate a late supper of bread, hearty beef and vegetable stew, and a slightly less sweet version of butterbeer that Severus quite liked. De Grasse explained Severus would cook twice a week and walk to Sainte-Verene to shop for food once a week, as they were now housemates and should share responsibilities.
Severus readily agreed and De Grasse showed him to his room on the second floor. It was sparsely furnished, but had a bed, nightstand, desk, and wardrobe, which was enough for Severus' needs.
"Sir?" Severus turned questioning to his new master. "There are no safety wards on the room, and it is above the Potions workspace."
"Oui." Monsieur de Grasse smiled wryly. "Zere will be no mistakes zen. You will be careful."
Severus nodded and de Grasse closed the door, leaving him for the night.
He was glad of his own exhaustion as he threw himself down on the bed.
The next two weeks were spent with Severus painstakingly brewing everything he had ever learned how to brew. Attention to detail was the key, for he started with simple, first-year potions that any apprentice should be able to do with their eyes closed. The short-statured De Grasse watched him from a stool perched in the corner, eyes narrowed and darting around, sure to catch Severus in a foolish mistake.
On the first day, de Grasse let out an audible hiss when he saw Severus deviate from the standard way of ingredients preparation or add one final counterclockwise stir after the required clockwise ones. He said nothing, however, until after the potion was finished, only jumping off the stool and shuffling over wide-eyed. He examined the potion thoroughly, sometimes tasting if necessary.
Severus realized later that de Grasse had not been alarmed or angry when he reacted, but surprised. He had not expected Severus to know these small changes would be helpful.
He was not a Master for no reason, and he did chime in occasionally. Add the gillywater and the scales simultaneously, not one after the other. Let it boil seven minutes, not five. Wait until the water cools, then add the daguenettes.
At the end of two weeks, he told Severus his technique needed no improvement and they could tackle new material. This would, naturally, involve some experimentation.
The first day of "new material" was invigorating for Severus, and he felt his whole being sing with the rightness of the work. It just felt right. As if this is what he was meant to be doing and it was hardly work at all.
That night, he silenced the room and he sobbed heavily until he fell asleep. His heart had felt so light and full, but it had taken until the end of the day to realize it was still pained.
He could not share this with her, and she was missing from this rightness.
Even the beauty of his calling was tainted by her absence.
"Satisfied?"
"No, not really." Ellie looked at Hermione skeptically. "Don't pretend you're normal."
"The traveling went fine. It's been a week and no ill-effects-"
"You know that's not what I mean."
Hermione glowered. "What?"
"Are you going to talk about it? You can't just run away by going forward in time."
"I certainly can," she replied petulantly.
"It's more than just Marina," Ellie said knowingly. "It's Snape, isn't it?"
"What about him?" Hermione frowned, looking away.
"You have the same problem with him as you do with Rookwood." Hermione didn't answer and Ellie nodded, her blonde hair swinging slightly. "Yes, that's what I thought. What you know about him isn't true yet. That's why you haven't known how to treat Snape. You can trust him, but you can't trust him… yet."
"That was my mistake," Hermione whispered bitterly. "It won't happen again."
"Can you trust him in three months?"
"Probably not."
"What's in three months then?"
Hermione sighed. "Auror training ends then, right? I'll… catch up with a few people."
Severus threw himself into potions study, experimentation, and ingredient gathering under the watchful gaze of Master de Grasse. He worked tirelessly, refusing to take his guaranteed time off every month as he had nowhere better to be and nothing better to do.
He knew if he gave himself enough time to stop and think or feel, it would drum up emotions he didn't want to deal with. Pain, sometimes, guilt, others. Even anger, a furious and uncontrollable anger that he couldn't possess the woman he should be able to possess- she had given herself!
Even this inner turmoil did not escape the short Frenchman. One afternoon, he told Severus to bottle the potion he had just made and take it to his rooms to be used as needed.
Severus frowned, believing this to be a test of some sort. "Impotus Vitale brew?"
"Eet ees temporary only. Eef you vill not avail yourself of Madame Genevieve's whores in Sainte-Verene, then take eet for the temporary impotence." De Grasse shrugged, as if he had given the world's most practical bit of advice. "Distractions in ze potions lab are unwise."
Severus flushed as much as his skin was able and excused himself.
He did not take it the first night out of sheer embarrassment, but a few days later after Hermione had not left his head and his thoughts would not quiet and let him sleep, he did take a small dose.
Yes, impotence was a relief in some way. Yet, it is an odd relief from tension to remove it altogether rather than allow it to culminate and peak.
It left him feeling a sick taste in his mouth and an emptiness in his chest.
However, masturbating to memories of Hermione would give him release but leave his chest aching and heaving in heartsick hopelessness.
There was no winning here. One odd weekend off a month was not enough time to lure her back to him either.
"I'm so glad you've decided to help our cause, Miss…"
"Perri," Hermione reminded him flatly.
"Of course, just making sure." Professor Dumbledore smiled and stroked his white beard. He hadn't forgotten, of course. He was just making sure she could keep her own alias.
Hermione felt odd standing in front of his desk now, having graduated already and during the summer while classes were not in session. After presenting herself to Sterling for examination and questions and getting scolded by Elpida again for jumping forward, she had decided to check in on Dumbledore. He had answered her letter promptly and invited her to his office through the Floo, presumably so no one could see her coming and going in the castle.
"I presume you still intend to fulfill the mission you mentioned? Protecting certain Gryffindors from… unsavory characters?"
"I do."
"Excellent. Well, I have something for you then." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and placed his fingertips together. "As you may already know, the newest class of Aurors have finished training and their graduation ceremony is in a few days."
Hermione nodded, already wrinkling her nose in concentration as she thought rapidly. "And you suspect that there will be another disrupted graduation ceremony."
"I think it would make sense." The old man inclined his head thoughtfully. "It would embarrass both the ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, send fear through the populace, act as another show of power for Voldemort, and…" He trailed off and looked at Hermione meaningfully.
"And send a message directly to the new Aurors," she added.
"Precisely. He and I both understand that the next generation is the ripest for recruitment. This may either injure them permanently, scare them off, or turn them to him out of fear."
"What can I do to help, sir?" Hermione said sharply, already convinced by this line of thinking that there would definitely be an attack.
"The ceremony itself is unlikely to be in jeopardy, as it will be held inside the Ministry of Magic. However, it is customary for the newest Aurors to go forth from there straight to patrolling Diagon Alley. It is typically only a formality, a ceremonial patrol if you will, as any criminals would know to avoid unsavory activities at that time, but I suspect this is when and where the Death Eaters will strike."
"So, you need people stationed in Diagon Alley and ready to help."
"Well…" Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked around the desk to stand in front of her. "I had not been sure if I wanted to formally induct you into the cause due to your… unique situation, but the opportunity has presented itself here to avoid any formal introductions to the rest of our number. The decision need not be made yet."
Hermione did not protest in the slightest. Less trouble with the timeline this way. She nodded in assent.
He smiled at her and inclined his head. "I believe the best course of action is to use Polyjuice Potion to make multiples of some of the Auror graduates. This way, if there are any specific targets, the Death Eaters may be thrown off and confused by the duplicates. Additionally, they may be unnerved by the large number of newly graduated Aurors they see before they figure out the ruse. These elements of surprise, as well as having additional numbers, may give us the upper hand."
Severus spent the hot French summer wading through the boggy marshes collecting ingredients and sweltering over cauldrons. Monsieur de Grasse kept his normal spot in the corner as his student worked, perched on the high stool to observe. Often, Severus glanced over to see the old man's eyes were closed. The fumes, the heat of the afternoons, and his age all ensured that he would nap nearly every afternoon.
It was another brutally hot afternoon in the late summer- early September still counted as summer in the area- and Severus was chopping and slicing. Cagoui, formion, it appeared this potion was made up of various animal bits.
He was already distracted, the heat and Master de Grasse's snoring from the corner made it difficult to concentrate on the correct measurements and steps, but also he was feeling a growing sense of unease and his thoughts naturally turned again to Hermione. What was she doing? How had her summer gone? Who was she spending time with? Who was she speaking to and was it a Gryffindor putting nonsense in her ears and hopefully she hadn't even sniffed Potter or Black-
Severus cried out in pain, dropping the knife. Monsieur de Grasse, who was there in an instant as if he'd seen the whole thing, grasped his left arm as Severus howled. "C'est ch'tit!"
There was blood, and Severus realized he must have sliced a small dip of skin off of his left thumb when cutting, but that wasn't where the pain was coming from. His left forearm was searing hot.
He was being summoned.
He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek while de Grasse bandaged his thumb. De Grasse was glaring at him and muttering a few things under his breath in the local French dialect that Severus didn't know well. Once the bandage was placed and blood cleaned up, Severus pulled his arm away from the man with a jerk, getting some small relief now that he was not squeezing his left arm in place.
Ever observant, the little man's eyes darted from Severus' arm to his thumb and back before meeting his eyes.
"Ah," he said.
The Dark Mark had been covered- one reason the heat had been so unbearable for Severus that summer. He had not allowed himself to even roll up his sleeves for fear he would be dismissed from the apprenticeship if his master had noticed it.
"Not to worry." The old man shook his head. "I did know, yes. Only I zought zey would do it after." Severus just stared at him, wide-eyed, panting and trying to calm himself. "Vell? Go on zen." His master made a shooing notion. "You ave not taken time off. Take some time."
"Sir," Severus swallowed. "I-"
"Do not mistake me." De Grasse glared at him. "I am not involved. Je suis neutre."
Alright. Going forward he could know, but no details.
Severus excused himself with a slight head bow and rushed up the stairs to his room, grabbing a small traveling bag and stuffing a few things in it as his arm burned. He donned his mask and cloak and released the tension in his body, allowing the mark to tug him away to his other master.