AN: Hello, fanfiction and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!
Can You Take the Jump?
Chapter 80
…
"You don't recognize me, do you?"
He appeared homeless, his long coat didn't seem thick enough to cover the winter chill. His unkempt appearance and the stench of alcohol and cigarettes marked him as a man who had fallen far from grace.
"Detective Inspector Lancor," Hermione sat on the cold scorched cement floor and waited for him to approach. "You were the detective on my family's case after the fire."
…
"I'm sorry for your loss," Hermione whispered as Detective Lancor placed a cup of tea in front of her. The teacup was dainty and cute with its matching plate, and he even placed a little matching spoon next to it. He sat across from her with a simple glass of amber liquid. Neither of them said a word as the one light in the house illuminated all they needed to see.
"My Bonnie liked cute things," he explained unnecessarily. It was evident from the whimsical décor surrounding them—Hermione could visibly see her personality from how she decorated her home. It was filled with humorous little trinkets, cute little frills, and dainty little matching cups with their plates and spoons.
"She must've been a joy."
He laughed, "We fought constantly. She would cry and make me feel so horrible. I'd get mad at her for making me feel so shit. We often spoke of divorce."
Hermione blinked, surprised. She always believed she could read people well, spotting happiness and misery from a mile away. She looked around the pristine house. Not a single item looked like it had been touched in months, likely since her passing. The only things disturbed in the past 24 hours were his side of the table and the wedding portrait that hung on the wall. Everything screamed the loss of a great love, a love that one couldn't move on from, one that wouldn't heal, even with time.
"She was a joy. Truly," he continued. "She never took anything too seriously, while I took everything far too seriously. She teased me mercilessly. No one made me laugh like she could. I loved that about her. It was why I married her, but also why I wanted a divorce. It all seems so silly now."
Hermione smiled. Yes, death had a way of simplifying the unbelievably complicated.
"That day," his voice changed, laden with sorrow. She didn't know a voice could hold hope until she heard it gone. "I had been away from home for hours, looking for clues and answers about you. To find something to give those…" his voice trembled in the memory of his capture with Voldemort.
"She was—" He couldn't finish his sentence, his hands grasping for something that was no longer there. In the end, they settled on his face, physically holding his grief together. "The docs told me it was a heart attack, but it wasn't, was it?"
Hermione didn't respond. Couldn't respond.
"No one at the station understood why I was so sure it was homicide. There was no sign of forced entry, no struggle, not even a cut or bruise on her body. She just died on those steps as she was walking up to bed, while I was running around all of England to find you. Twenty-four years of marriage, gone in a blink of an eye. My Bonnie died all alone."
He placed his empty glass back onto the small breakfast table with a clack. He filled it to the brim with strong liquor, only to down it again.
"My kids got upset. They thought I'd gone mad with grief, imagining murders that never happened. But they didn't see what I saw. They don't know what I know. They didn't see the men holding wooden sticks and performing feats that defy science. My Bonnie was murdered by one of you. Terrified and confused, looking for me, even in her final breaths. She was so—" Overcome with emotions, the detective stopped.
They sat there, unable to say anything. Hermione knew what it was like to not be able to say goodbye. How heavy that guilt was.
"If it helps, her death was quick and painless."
He shuddered at the reminder of the pain these magical beings could inflict. His joints still ached, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead as his body remembered. He still had nightmares that made him scream like a madman.
"I suppose it is," he whispered.
They sat in solemn silence for hours. Her tea turned cold, and his glass emptied again and again, but neither moved from their spot. The sun rose, and with it, the world around them. Newspaper delivery boys came first, throwing the paper onto the front doorstep with a small thud. Neighbors walked their dogs, husbands drove off to work, children rushed to school, and wives ran errands. The world came alive around them, but they sat there like the dead, just listening to it happen.
Brrring! Brrrring!
They both jumped, their respective wand and gun in hand at the sound of the landline ringing.
She noted his fearful glance at her wand, so she tucked it back into the pocket of Tom's jacket that she had unintentionally stolen and gestured for the detective to take the call.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Detective Inspector Lancor's residence?" Hermione's sensitive ears could pick up the voice on the other line.
"Yes."
"This is Cokesworth Primary School. I see that you've requested information on an old student who used to attend here years ago. A student named Lily Katherine Evans?"
He caught her sharp stare.
"Sorry, but could I call you back in an hour?" he whispered into the phone and hung up without waiting for a response. He glanced at her worriedly as though the tense calmness between them would erupt, but Hermione did nothing. She sat there watching him.
"Who are you? What do they want with you?" he asked. "Why are they willing to commit so much crime just to have you?"
"They've already got me."
He sucked in a quick, sharp breath and pointed his gun at her head once more. It was impressive how steady his aim was despite the hours of drinking.
"Don't worry, Detective. I won't hurt you. I won't do anything. You are free from them, as free as your mind allows you to be."
Slowly, he lowered his arms.
"I can help you with that. I can help you forget. You can regain your life. Have a night's sleep without being tormented by dreams and memories. I can't bring your wife back, but I can make it so that you can accept her passing with an easier heart."
"You can… you can do that?"
She nodded.
He placed his gun on the table by the phone and walked back to his seat across from her.
"Do you believe in God?"
Hermione blinked at the unexpected question. "I…" she paused, unsure how to answer.
"My Bonnie believed, but I struggled with my faith. Being a detective, I've seen the horrors of mankind."
Hermione understood his reasonings, "But ultimately, you believe?"
He paused. "I suppose I do."
"If there is one," Hermione sighed. "He owes me a big explanation for His so-called plan for me." She joked humorlessly. "I see God as a convenient myth, perhaps, for those who need to believe in something greater, something benevolent. But I'm like you, I've seen and experienced too much darkness, too much pain, both on the receiving and giving end of it. How could any god worth the name allow such horrors? Power is what shapes our world, not some distant and indifferent deity. Power and the will to wield it. Voldemort understands that. It's why it's so easy to convince him he can become one because he's more of a god than any I've read about—a god of fear, control, and twisted admiration."
"Yet you want to believe."
Her downcast eyes flickered up to meet his. She looked surprised. He stared at her, waiting for her answer. His brown eyes felt desperate to know. Her answer was important to him.
"Redemption is tempting. Forgiveness is my forbidden apple. I wonder if my soul, as tainted as it is, can be salvaged. But then I remember my actions, the blood on my own hands, the screams I've caused. If there is a god watching over us, they must be as brutal and unforgiving as the world they preside over. Or they are simply indifferent, leaving us to our own devices, our own hells. Or maybe He is scared of what He has created and has run away to the security behind Heaven's gates."
"Or maybe you magic-wielding monsters were really created by the devil, just as the church always said."
"Well," the corner of her mouth twitched and even the detective couldn't help but let out a snort. "If that's true, I can't imagine what kind of horrible sins my parents must've committed to have twin red-headed magical girls."
"Must've betrayed the country in their past life or something," the detective bemused.
"Or something."
"Is she like you, your twin?"
Hermione paused at the question. There was a time when Hermione Granger was like Lily Evans; sweet, innocent, stubborn, childish, naïve, and so very Gryffindor-ish. That Hermione was never scared to love, she stood up for what she believed in and never gave in. During that time of her life, decisions were just wrong or right and never gray, and taking a life in cold blood was an unfathomable option.
"No. Lily is littered with faults and constantly makes mistakes. She's impatient and judges too quickly. Her decisions are often rash and emotional. She's so… imperfect. Perfectly imperfect. She's good. She's joyful, hyper, even. She has a strong sense of right and wrong that can't be bent. She is your best supporter if she loves you, and your worst enemy if she doesn't. There was a time when we were kids when she beat up kids from the neighbourhood who were twice her size for killing ants with a magnifying glass. She would bring me magazines at the hospital to teach me about pop culture so that I wouldn't get bullied by others for not knowing what's "in". She cried for days when our neighbour's dog died. Her heart is so big, yet so fragile, I worry for her."
"That would make you someone who has no faults, never makes mistakes, patient, reserves judgement, never makes decisions rashly or emotionally. Someone perfect? Imperfectly perfect?" Lancor finished for her, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione tilted her head. "I never said we were complete opposites, but… I don't know. I've never given much thought to who I am. I've always been too busy to figure it out. Too busy to ever 'find me'. It only mattered who I was."
"And who were you?"
"You were me."
Hermione turned around and gasped when she saw a small girl with outrageously big curly brown hair that nearly engulfed her. She had clear bright doe eyes that sparkled even in the dim light. Her cute button nose crinkled at the bridge as she smiled, revealing two buck teeth that were too big for her mouth. She wore her Gryffindor uniform exactly as the school regulations dictated. She hadn't seen Hermione Granger in any other form other than the broken woman covered in her godson's blood.
There was a time when she was her.
"Have you forgotten about me, Hermione?"
Yes. She had. Without the look of revenge burning in her eyes, she almost didn't recognize this version of herself. The younger Hermione Granger looked at her with clear pureness that she'd never seen in herself in this life. She was beautiful. She'd never called herself that before, but the small girl in front of her was one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen.
"Miss Evans?"
Hermione quickly wiped away a tear that fell unbeknownst to her. "It's Granger." She said instinctively, but stopped, realizing what she had just said, realizing everything she had said to this man. She had never been so honest with someone from this timeline before. She wondered if it was because he was a detective, but quickly rejected the theory, she'd been interrogated by witches and wizards before, but never had she been so honest.
"You seem to have had a hard life," he seemed to understand her confusion. "You know, I searched for you for months, unsure of what I'd do if I found you. At one point, I was pretty sure I'd kill you the moment I laid eyes on you because I blamed you for everything. I convinced myself that you're the reason everything in my life went wrong. If only I hadn't answered the call that night for your family's fire…"
Suddenly the sense of comfort that she'd felt from this man disappeared. Her unusual desire to ramble faded as she listened to the man struggle to speak, struggle to explain himself. It finally occurred to her, why she'd said so much. He had been looking for reasons to forgive her, and as she previously stated, she was desperate for it. The forgiveness of someone whose life she had irreversibly changed by existing in a timeline she didn't belong in.
"I know you're a victim too, and I know you're just a kid, but I can't… I just can't forgive you."
She let out a deep sigh, leaning back on the seat she'd been on for hours. She didn't know why she had hoped for a different outcome. How utterly foolish of her, she had wasted her time.
"I'm sorry. I guess I'm not a good adult either."
"Good," Hermione nodded in the end. "Don't. Don't forgive me. If I'm forgivable, that means Voldemort can be as well and that is… unforgivable."
"Will you rescind your offer to help me? About helping me forget?"
"No. I'll still help you," she raised her wand and pointed it at his head. "You will wake up on this table with that glass in your hand thinking you drowned yourself in whiskey and cigarettes to push your grief away once more, but you'll have no memory of Voldemort, no memory of magic and the torture you experienced. You'll mourn your wife, but without the underlying hate and knowledge of her real cause of death, you'll heal. You'll quit drinking and start to recollect your life, you'll finally call your boss at the police station telling him you're ready to come back to work. My family and I will become a cold case and I'll be missing forever. You'll move on and everything will soon go back to a new normal."
"Sounds idyllic."
"It is," the tip of her wand glowed with the spell.
"STOP," he backed off, putting distance between himself and her wand. "I… I don't want to forget. My wife was murdered. I won't dishonour her by forgetting how she really died."
"Are you sure?" Hermione looked around the house that was frozen in time. The dust had settled onto nearly every surface, indicating that this man had not the heart to touch the house his wife clearly put tons of effort into maintaining. She watched him for a while, with impossibly old eyes. The two stared at each other, their broken souls speaking without the need for words.
"Consider it my punishment for being unable to be the bigger person and a better adult."
"I understand."
"I thought you would," he nodded.
Hermione stood up and thanked him for the tea. She walked out of his house without looking back. She winced at the bright sunlight that assaulted her eyes.
It was a new day.
…
Headmaster Dumbledore's office was as impressive as his position. Regulus sat across the mahogany table staring at the empty seat in front of him. The chair had detailed carvings around the edges that depicted the four Houses. He studied the carvings with vague interest as he waited for the owner of the room to come in, ignoring the whisperings of the previous headmasters' paintings that hung above him.
The news of the Azkaban break-in and Hermione's part in the raid took the school by storm. The swarm that had surrounded Lily Evans for her miraculous recovery suddenly shifted to questions about her twin sister. Eventually, the staff had to intervene and get the crawling kids off of Lily Evans and escort her to the dorms. She wasn't the only one. All the heads of the Houses collected their students and rushed them back to their dorms, cancelling classes for the day.
The Aurors were quick to arrive at Hogwarts after a few hours the news broke to question anyone who had the smallest connection to Hermione Evans. Severus had been one of the first to be called along with Lily Evans and his older brother. He wasn't particularly worried about the latter two—they didn't know anything of real importance—but Severus had been pacing in his dorm muttering to himself.
"It's my fault. They couldn't have identified her with just that picture of the back of her head, but I called her name. I shouted her name as we were leaving. I'm such a fucking idiot!" Severus hit himself in the side of the head over and over again.
Neither of them had enough sense at the time to catch his mistake, but it was too late to do anything now. He had hoped that Severus was able to push the sniffing dogs away from their tracks, besides, no one ever made the connection between Hermione and himself, except that fact that Sirius was his biological older brother.
But now he sat at the Headmaster's office.
The back entrance to the office opened and the old wizard wearing striking azure blue robes walked in.
"Ah, Mr. Black. I apologize for keeping you waiting. The Aurors kept me busier than expected."
"It's no issue, Professor."
"You must be curious as to why I've called you."
"The question has crossed my mind."
Dumbledore smiled knowingly. His gaze was kind but had a sprinkling of pity. It immediately put Regulus's mind on guard.
"How young you are," he noted. "Not yet 15. Are you the youngest he's ever recruited?"
He couldn't stop the colour from draining his face.
"Oh dear, I didn't mean to startle you so." Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of something. He reached his hand across the table and opened his hand. "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum?"
Regulus didn't understand what was going on.
"Hm, perhaps this is not one you like. I have more somewhere in this office. Do you have a preference?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I've got Bertie Bott's Beans here, cockroach clusters, some sugar quills, maybe some ice mice?" The old man dug around the draws of this great old table between them pulling out an assortment of sweets that rivalled Honeydukes.
"Professor. I'm not asking about the sweets."
Dumbledore placed all the sweets he'd hidden around his office in front of him.
"Mr. Black, this will be a long conversation, so please, help yourself."
Knowing the old wasn't going to budge until he'd taken one, he grabbed an apple ring and waited for him to speak.
"I am aware of man what is embedded in your forearm. You do not need to look so alarmed, no Auror is barging into this office and arresting you today. If it does happen, I assure you, it was not I who uncovered your secrets."
"You… you know?"
"I am the smartest wizard of my generation, you know. I understand that Miss Evans has impressed you with her intellect, but I assure you that mine is not shy of hers either."
"Why have you called me?"
Dumbledore's soft smile faded, "Before she disappeared, Miss Evans gave me an offer I couldn't resist. A spy. All she asked for in exchange was the protection of the people she loved. I failed her, twice. Once when your brother was taken, another when Miss Lily Evans joined the fight to retake the DMLE. Each time, I feared that Miss Evans would not follow through with her end of the bargain."
"Hermione would never—"
"No. She's never. She is kind enough to give me another chance. She sends invaluable information through various creative means, including the mission to Azkaban and all the people involved."
"You knew."
He nodded. "The plan, although it did not occur in the manner which we thought, was successful, judging by Miss Lily Evans's recovery. Hermione's plan to remove the biggest players in Voldemort's group has started, this is only the first. More and more people will die, presumably by her hands."
"You…" would let her do that? But Regulus could speak his sentence out loud.
As though he knew what Regulus couldn't say, Dumbledore nodded. "When you see her, please be sure to tell her the good news."
Regulus's brows twitched. This man had no idea what he was about to say because this man did not truly care about Hermione. This man was a wolf in sheep's skin. This man was not to be trusted. Regulus's already trained mind put up even more walls against the Legilimens.
"Will that be all?"
"Tell her… Tell her she is much appreciated."
"Not so long a conversation as you anticipated, professor."
Regulus tasted blood in his mouth from how hard he was biting down. He got up from his seat and made his way to the exit when he stopped.
"You are a coward, sir. I will never be able to aid Hermione in the magnitude she needs. Her plans are too great for a dumb kid like me, but you, sir? With your self-proclaimed intelligence? Your mighty status and magical brute? You could help her so much. No, scratch that. YOU could do so much, yet you sit there, letting a 17-year-old girl deal with the horrors of this world?"
He slowly turned around at the man everyone claimed was 'great'.
"When Hermione succeeds—and she will, there is no question in my mind that she will—when she succeeds, I hope you know that you were utterly useless. I hope you feel that shame for the rest of your life. I hope you know that despite being so… big, you're simply just that small."
"Mr. Black—"
"Good day. Sir."
Regulus stepped onto the gargoyle and watched his Headmaster become speechless as it turned, leaving him sitting on that grand chair all alone.
When he stepped out of the gargoyle, onto the hall, Regulus was face to face Sirius. He let out a sigh. To say it was a surprise would be a lie. His brother was always somewhat predictable.
"I just finished getting interrogated for the past 2 hours. They're asking me if I knew anything," he shook his head. "Idiots, they should have been asking you."
"Sirius."
"Ever since we returned to school, I would stare at the back of your bloody head sitting at that bloody long table at the other side of the Great Hall, wondering what I could ask you that would satisfy my soul. Where is she? Why did she do it? How could she? What is she thinking? But I realized that there's a big chance you won't answer. Unlike me, you're part of her little club of people she considers useful in her life," he chuckled, as though Hermione's notoriously annoying habits and secrecy were an adorable funny quirk. "So I trust that she knows what she's doing and I'll leave her to her own devices."
"So," he stared at his brother expectantly. "No questions?"
"I didn't say that," he laughed. "How is she? Did she get hurt?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen her since the mission."
Sirius glanced down at his right forearm where the blasted tattoo was engraved into his arm.
"You know, I've always felt sorry. I'm a terrible older brother. I don't deserve that title. I didn't mean for my fate to become yours. You were always a good kid, kind and gentle, even to that bloody elf."
"Leave Kreature alone."
"See?" He smiled bittersweetly. "Hermione made a great choice, picking you to watch her back. Will you make sure she stays safe? I'd do it myself, but she won't let me."
"Don't worry about that. Hermione is more than capable of taking care of herself."
"You know that's not always true. She's more than capable of taking care of everyone else, except herself," he had a faraway look on his face. "So, please? Take of her."
For some reason, his brother's request annoyed him, "Anything else you'd like me to pass on to her?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Tell her thanks for saving my idiot little brother last night."
Regulus's jaw dropped.
"Does everyone know where I was yesterday?"
"No. Just me. I know you weren't in the castle last night. And then when the paper came this morning, I connected the dots pretty quickly."
"Fuck. How did you know I wasn't in the castle?"
"Marauder's secret," he smirked. "Don't worry, the Aurors don't know anything. I made sure to keep it from them, but Reg, last night… did you… did you kill them? Did you kill someone?"
"Does it make a difference?"
"Of course it does. We're talking about taking a life!"
"SHHH!" Regulus looked around the hall. There were eyes and ears everywhere in this castle. He closed the distance between him and his brother. "At this rate, just go up to the Aurors and tell them I was there!" He growled into his ear. "What is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with you?! We're talking about," he had the decency to glance and back and forth in the empty hall. "We're talking about murder here!"
"You might be talking about that, but I'm talking about war! I sit on the seat you left behind and I fill the shoes you couldn't. I will always fight for my life and I will not apologize for it!"
Regulus turned around and was about to walk away but was stopped by his brother's hand on his shoulder.
"Reg." Sirius's voice was heavy and far more mature than Regulus had ever heard him. "Reggie, please. I can help you. If you want to escape, I can help you."
"I didn't do it," Regulus shook his head while shaking off the hand on his shoulder. "I didn't kill anyone last night. Or at least I don't think I killed anyone last night. I didn't stop and check; I was too busy running for my life. I was useless and terrified for my life the entire time."
Sirius let out a sigh of relief.
"But Hermione, she was probably chosen to punish the person who failed the mission."
"Hermione was punished?!"
"No!" Regulus hit his brother on the head, hard. "Will you fucking listen? For once in your life, pay attention! Hermione was probably chosen to punish those who failed this mission."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you need to figure out what the hell you think is more important, upholding those high and mighty morals or your love for Hermione."
"What are you…" Sirius stepped back, his breath trembled with pure shock. "What does that… You're not making any sense, Reg."
"Do you really believe that Evans's legs healed overnight? You believe in such miracles? I know you're not the brightest, but I highly doubt you're that dumb."
"Stop it. Hermione wouldn't."
Regulus truly pitied his brother for falling in love with the most difficult person in the world. "If you think that's true, you don't know Hermione as well as you think you do, brother." This time it was Regulus who placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, heavy and grounding. "One thing that's always held true is, Hermione will always do what needs to be done."
…
Severus could feel his chest burning as he ran up the stairs, panting and choking on his saliva as he climbed up the last staircase to the Room of Requirement.
"Holy fuck?!" He exclaimed when he entered the room, his eyes immediately stopping at the girl casually sitting there. "Why are you here?"
"Hey Sev." Hermione sat there with a glass of cold water placed across from her. "Have a seat. I thought you'd be thirsty from running up all those steps."
"You!" Severus struggled to speak to the nonchalant girl before him. "Do you…Do you know you're currently the most wanted person in all of England after Voldemort?"
"Yeah, I assumed this would be the safest place to hide from the Aurors. I guessed they'd come straight here to dig and ask questions. The safest place is always right under their noses. Besides, I've been wanted before by the muggle police. It's not much different from how I've already been living, Sev."
Severus let out a sigh of disbelief. He knew he couldn't win, so he silently rolled his eyes as he took the glass and gulped it down. He sank into the futon and held his head in his hands. He needed a break from this girl, it's like she was trying to send him to an early grave.
"How'd the interrogation go?"
"I was interrogated for nearly 3 hours."
She simply raised her brows.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking. You're fine too. Of course, I didn't say anything. You've trained me for this. They didn't get anything."
"Who's the lead Auror on the case?"
"Bagnold."
This time Hermione sighed, "I want to like that woman, I really do, but she and I are always on direct opposite ends and getting in my way."
"Where did you go? What happened after?"
He watched her, all jokes aside. Hermione looked older, not that she was ever someone who glowed with youth, but she seemed older than when he last saw her a couple of days ago. It was hard to believe the person in front of him was only 17. She could have easily passed for someone double their age, with premature wrinkles between her brows and forehead from stress and frowning.
"Rodolphus is dead."
He didn't need to ask if she was the one who did it. It was obvious. Severus wondered what it had felt like, to take the life of someone they all despised. He wondered if it was a challenge. If morality made her pause at all. He wanted to ask but at the same time, he didn't wish to know.
"More will die. I will make sure of it."
"Hermione, maybe you should let the authorities take care of the rest. You've put the spotlight on the Death Eaters, you've done enough. Why don't we trust them to do their jobs."
She shook her head. "They can't be trusted."
"We retook the Ministry for them to be trustworthy, but you're telling me that they can't be trusted? What was the point?"
Hermione stared at him from her seat.
"Have you ever read a story where a young hero has to defeat a great evil?"
"What?"
"The young hero goes through terrible thing after terrible thing in their life. He loses his family, is ostracized and abused by his adoptive family, and then he finally meets true friends later in life. He fights for them. He sacrifices himself for them. It takes great personal loss, but finally, after years of struggle and fighting, he wins against the dark side. Or so he thinks. Years later, when everyone who fought with the young hero and the hero himself, is able to relax and enjoy the happy life they earned, it comes back. Worse than before. Everyone the hero loved dies and the hero themselves die, leaving the world to fend for themselves against the evil that they couldn't finish off in the first place."
"What are you—"
There was a glazed fury in her eyes. It looked as though she had been in a trance.
"Who do you think is most at fault in this story?"
"I guess, the hero? For not finishing their job?"
"Wrong. It's the people before the hero who never finished the job. Why did they leave it to a young boy to destroy an evil that even they couldn't? Why were they so proud of their incompetence? How could they look at him and revere him without an ounce of shame?"
"Hermione, what are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying," she looked at him. Her eyes appeared to have returned to normal. "I don't want to be a hypocrite, Sev. I'm going to finish what I started. I'm not going to leave Voldemort for the next generation, but now that the dominoes are starting to fall, everything will happen a lot quicker. I'm scared I won't have time."
"Won't have time? Time for what?"
"You're the only one I trust, Sev. You're the only one I trust who will listen to me and respect my decisions, so I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you."
Hermione spoke more honestly than she had in a long time. She told him about the potions she took and still takes and their detrimental effects on her body. She told him about the Obscurial and her poor broken soul. She told him about her limited time left.
"Hermione…" Severus fell to his knees. His legs were too weak to close the distance between them with steps, so he crawled to her. With trembling hands, he grabbed the hem of her clothes and pulled her into his arms, crushing her with an embrace. "Hermione!"
"Shhh," she held his trembling body. "It's okay Severus. I'm okay."
"You… You can't die! No! I refuse!"
She let out a small chuckle, "What are you going to do to stop it? Offer me a piece of your soul?"
"I-Is that what you need? Take it. I'll give it to you! Take it!"
"Severus, you've hardened your heart in many ways to deal with the life we lead, but you're not so corrupt that you can do what it takes to separate your soul."
"You can't die Hermione. After all you've done, all your hard work! You need to live to see the result, to see the happy ending you've sacrificed so much for!"
She shook her head. "Life doesn't work like that. And you know it."
"No. No!" He grabbed her, begging as if that would somehow change her fate.
She held him as he cried, thankful for his tears. She felt saved in a way. Thankful that she wouldn't have to see him die in this life. She rested her forehead against his, breathing deeply to calm him down.
"When I die," his breath hitched, he fought her hold, but she held on. "When I die, I'll know that it was for your freedom. For Lucius, for Regulus, for everyone else. I'll know that I gave you the peace I was so desperate for, away from all the death and despair, away from Voldemort. I'll die knowing that the only thing that disrupts that peace is a ruined morning coffee or a spilled bottle of ink."
He shook his head.
"This is the way it was meant to be from the very beginning. Even my sorting into Slytherin. It served many purposes. Please don't misunderstand, I enjoyed my time with you and the boys, I liked being able to get closer to you and the rest, training, gathering intel, and fighting. It's one of the best memories I've made in my life here, but I also did it because I know that it has to be us snakes that bring him down, otherwise, the prejudice that plagued muggleborns is just going to circle back. People will point fingers at any student wearing a green tie or have pureblooded parents. All those kids in the coming years whose sins are only being born to a certain family or being ambitious or cunning, I want to save them all. Kids like Lucius's little girl deserve a chance, don't you think? Let's do this, Sev. I can do this. We can do this, and I'll finally get some damn rest."
"It's not rest, Hermione! You're dying! It's not the same!"
"Death is not the end. Don't feel bad or sad for me. Trust me when I say I'll be in a better place," she coaxed. I won't have to fear what I'll become if I just die. "Trust me as you've always done. It must be this way."
"WHY?!" He heaved. Hermione patted his back as he vomited on the floor. The news must have been more shocking than she had anticipated. She cleared his vomit with a flick of her wand, but Severus couldn't seem to calm down, stuck in a cycle of vomiting and crying.
"Severus," she wiped his face. "I think you should go down to the hospital wing. We can finish this conversation later."
"No," he pushed her off to face her properly. He was still sickly green as he fought her.
"Severus. Stop. Stop! You're ill. The stress from the interrogation and what I've said. It was too much, I was insensitive. We can talk later."
"Did you stop after you killed Rodolphus?" He challenged, wiping away the vomit with his sleeve. "Why do you fight like this for us? What are we to you that you'd do all of this for us? I… I just don't understand! We are nothing compared to you. We are inconsequential. We just fuck up and mess up and… and… ruin your plans. So stop. Whatever you're planning and thinking, just stop. Be selfish. You can do that now. Like you said, the dominos are falling, just let them fall. You don't have to involve yourself any further. Run away. Please?"
"I can't do that. You're all still in great danger with Voldemort still alive."
Severus shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "Just let us go. Go live your life."
"I've lived," she smiled. Genuinely. "I know you don't understand, but I've lived life. You think you've fucked up?" She shook her head and laughed. "I've fucked up on scales you wouldn't believe."
He watched her with confusion. As far as he knew, Hermione had never lived her own life and her perfection was always ruined by them.
"If I give up, he will come for you. All of you. Your life will end in that moment. Severus, how much do you think you've lived?" Hermione asked curiously. "You who has never had a requited love, never married or had a family. You haven't even graduated, or gotten a real job yet, a promotion or an argument with your boss. You've never even had to worry about a mortgage or taxes. You've never even buried a parent. You're not even at the starting line." Hermione sighed. "You have no idea what you're asking when you're telling me to give up. You have no idea what it means for you if I do. All I'm trying to do is get you to the starting line, Sev."
"Hermione, you haven't lived either. You haven't had all those things either!"
She shook her head.
"Don't worry, I've lived enough. I've seen enough, felt enough, and done more than my share. I've lived in a way you haven't. In a time you haven't. With people, you wouldn't believe. The life left in me now is not too little, but rather, just enough. I think if I had any more than what I have now… I wouldn't want it. I'm burnt out, Sev, just barely managing and holding on."
"What are you saying?"
Hermione smiled and stroked his hair lovingly. Her eyes were softer than he'd ever seen, as though she knew he wouldn't understand.
"I have people waiting for me, Severus. They've been waiting for a long time."
"Who?" He whispered. "Alphard? Avery?"
"…"
Silence. This was always her way. She had to hold all the cards, she could never let them know what she was thinking. She was right. He didn't understand her, but then again, he never really understood Hermione.
"Will you make a promise to me? Just one promise and I'll listen to you like you said, without questioning you or doubting you like I always have."
"…Okay. One promise."
"Don't die before telling me. Don't make me go through what I went through with Alphard. Give me a chance to say goodbye."
"Sev, I don't—"
"Promise, Hermione. Promise me."
She stroked his hair once more, reminding him of his mother when he was little, protecting him from his father's drunken wrath.
"I promise."
…
