—————S—————
October 29, 1977
There was still a hint of a smile on his face as Severus walked into the lab in his master's home. He could still feel Hermione on his lips, her scent still lingered in his nose, her voice still rung in his ears. It had been a very pleasant errand.
Nikola glanced at him as he came in, not pausing once in his grinding of a granite bean.
"You took longer than expected," he replied, his Bulgarian accent thick. "I had not thought Hogsmeade to be a busy village."
"It happened that today was a Hogsmeade weekend for the students," Severus replied as he set the box of Scottish thistle on the table beside Nikola. "I had a moment's distraction."
Nikola gave him a knowing smile, glancing at him once more from the corner of his eye. "You found your lady?"
"Happened upon her, really. She, like I, had been heading to the apothecary," he explained as he resumed his previous task of sorting through the previous night's harvest.
"Is she to master in potions?"
"No, her interest is strictly academic. I imagine she will choose Runes or Arithmancy."
"Pity. If your lady is as intelligent and quick as you, she'll be excellent apprentice," Nikola said slyly, and when Severus gave him a dark scowl, the master laughed. "I have seen your photo of your Hermonee. She is not what I consider beautiful, you would not fear that sort of apprenticeship here."
Igor chuckled behind them.
"I would not be so pleased, Karkaroff," Nikola said without turning to look at him. "Your Yvonne is not a pretty flower herself."
"At least she is my wife," Igor replied, and Severus rolled his eyes so hard it actually gave him a momentary headache. "And your lady, Severus? Did you find her in the arms of another?"
The image of Lupin walking closely beside her, grabbing her wrist as Hermione began to move toward him flashed in Severus' mind. He'd worried for a fleeting moment, when Lupin insisted Hermione not follow him into J. Pippin's, that perhaps his lack of communication and the long wait before them, had made her doubt him after all. He'd received word from Dumbledore shortly after Hermione's birthday that she seemed smitten with another. However, the old man's insinuation that it was Black, having described her new object of interest as having similar coloring to himself, left him more humored than worried. Seeing Lupin nipping at her heels, though, had him slightly more guarded.
"At least Severus' lady wasn't paid to marry him," Nikola replied.
Severus smirked in spite of himself.
He had expected Nikola to be cold and cruel, that he would insult his apprentices at every turn.
But Ivan Nikola was actually quite pleasant. He was strict, yes. If either he or Karkaroff ruined a potion or spoiled an ingredient, he yelled and had them scrubbing cauldrons or cleaning the lab more thoroughly than was necessary. By hand. Igor was appalled each time. Severus took his punishment without a word. The benefits of a half-blood upbringing, he imagined. If either of them had a truly stupid idea, something that happened rarely, Nikola was quite liberal with the insults, and in three different languages. Aside from those moments, though, the man had a dry wit he was quick to use at any moment, uniting them all in their passion for the craft and their unfortunate lack of good looks.
They frequently spent the evenings with port and potions journals, and while Nikola did not let either of them write home often so they would focus on their craft as much as possible, he did let both young men share stories of home. Igor was always willing to divulge, pleased to hear himself talk as much as he was pleased to talk about himself. Severus had limited his sharing to his mother, his time working with Bob in the gardens, and Hermione.
"At least Yvonne agreed," Karkaroff boasted.
"Yes, for a price," Severus reminded him. "I may not be betrothed in an official capacity, but I earned Hermione's promise to wait with nothing more than a six-year-old scarf and a used textbook."
Nikola laughed, clapping Severus on the back with great pride.
"My wife, she'd have liked you," Nikola said. "Tried to take you as ours. Had we sons, she'd have wanted them to be like you."
"And how are your daughters?" Severus asked politely.
"Well," Nikola replied.
Severus knew better than to ask further. He'd gathered everything he needed together to know Nikola was the kind of Death Eater he wanted to be around. To emulate.
The revel where Severus confirmed that Nikola and Igor were indeed Death Eaters happened just before Hermione's birthday. When the burn pierced his arm, the other two men hissed, and then after a pause, they all summoned their masks and departed. When they arrived at their destination, it was a scene Severus hadn't expected: a celebration.
The man he watched burn in the woods the night he took his Mark had been joined in the afterlife by his family, and the Death Eaters had killed an Auror in the process. There were drinks, a feast, and most disturbingly of all, an orgy.
Severus had never thought he would be so repulsed by sex in his life.
"Will you not partake, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked as many of the younger Death Eaters and about half of the older leaped gleefully into the fray.
"If I may pass, my Lord. I wish to have relations solely with the woman I intend to marry. Not only to keep myself pure, but to prevent a possible problem in the future. One cannot trust that a child will not be conceived," he'd replied, happy to see that the Dark Lord accepted his answer.
"Wise, Severus. Quite wise. I, too, do not find myself straying from one lady," the Dark Lord had said, his eyes falling on a woman with dark curls who was more interested in watching than joining. Bellatrix Black, Severus recalled, though he thought her married now. "Your daughters must be of age now, Ivan," the Dark Lord said suddenly to Nikola. "Perhaps you would like to introduce her to some of your brothers? One of them might make a good husband. Or lover."
Nikola had paled. "They are ... not within my reach, my Lord. They have left to be with my late wife's family in Russia."
"That is a shame," the Dark Lord hummed. "Please, enjoy the evening."
"I do not wish to participate in such distasteful act," Nikola said when they were alone. "Nor watch. We go. Bar down the road, good for people like us, yeah?"
And so, Severus left with Nikola, the excuse of following his master on the tip of his tongue should it be needed.
"Vodka. We drink," Nikola announced.
Wizarding vodka, he had learned, was not something to drink lightly. It was potent, a little onion-y, and went to your head faster than Felix Felicis.
Which was why Severus had only downed two shots before he chased his second with a few drops of that wonderful potion when his master wasn't looking. He'd been carrying his winning bottle around for so long, he'd almost forgot he had it.
And then the trouble had started. Someone had walked in, Severus couldn't remember who, and took exception to a half-blood and non-British wizard drinking in what he deemed "his bar." His friends hadn't liked it either, and a fight broke out before Severus really knew he was participating in one.
In the end, not a single Unforgivable was used on the five men heaped in a pile on the floor, twitching and whimpering. Nor had they been maimed.
"You use unexpected on Dark Wizards," Nikola had approved, clapping Severus on the back with approval. "I tell our brothers, 'no need for blood shed. Do the same torture with few jinxes.' All Dark spells, you have to mean them. Intention."
"Intention," Severus agreed, lifting his shot glass to Nikola. The older man had laughed heartily, giving cheers.
And that was how Severus had earned his place. How the Dark Lord began to take more notice of him. His intention. He had been successful when others hadn't, in breaking a victim, getting them to plead for death with well-placed stinging or engorging hexes. Some called him soft; the Dark Lord called him clever and creative. And the fact that he didn't hesitate with a curse when it was needed had ensured his cover as a genuine Death Eater.
Just as it should be.
December 27, 1977
Severus arrived at Malfoy Manor just before Nikola and Karkaroff. He took that time to straighten his sleeves, adjust his cravat, and hope for the hundredth time that he was presentable. His hair was greasier than he'd like, and he was only in a nicer frock coat than the one he wore around the lab.
It was his fault, really. He hadn't been paying attention in the early afternoon, and just as his seven-hour potion was almost done, his stirring rod slipped off the rim of the cauldron and into the potion, agitating it and ruining it.
He'd cursed and desperately wanted to throw the cauldron across the room, but he refrained. Instead, without Nikola saying a word, Severus banished the potion and started again. He forfeited his shower and settled for cleansing charms; he didn't change into the expensive dress robes his mother had sent for Christmas, instead settling on adding gold embroidery to his frock coat and changing his cravat to a deep green one. It wouldn't win him any beauty awards and may not even earn him any points with Hermione, but there was a nod of approval from his master and a proud smile that Severus was starting to crave, and that had made it worth setting aside his vanity for perfection of craft.
"She'll be here tonight?" Nikola asked after he and Karkaroff were straightened out.
"She was invited," was the only response Severus could give.
She'd written him twice since Hogsmeade, and in neither letter did she confirm she would be there. She spoke of her studies, how she settled on Arithmancy as her first Mastery and broke Minerva's heart. She wrote of her, Lily, and the Marauders creating a new map after Pettigrew lost the original. But she never said if they would see one another.
Part of him hoped they would, another hoped they wouldn't.
There had been a ... festive gathering a couple of nights before. The Dark Lord, it seemed, thought it would be amusing to terrify a bunch of Muggles on Christmas night, destroying a church in a small remote village. It hadn't been pleasant, and Severus was forced to kill for the first time since his father. It was between killing her or allowing that poor young woman to continue suffering when she'd already been tortured by more than a half dozen Death Eaters.
He may miss Hermione terribly, but he worried he wouldn't be able to face her. That perhaps she would be better off with Lupin.
The party was in full swing when they arrived, which was expected. The witches in their finery, the wizards in their cups.
There was no sign of the Dark Lord, oddly enough, and Severus noted the host of the evening seemed a mix of miffed and relieved. There was also a distinct lack of Narcissa at his side.
"Ivan, Igor," Lucius greeted each man with a handshake. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor, please do indulge yourselves."
"And the Dark Lord?" Karkaroff sneered.
"Unfortunately, he was not able to accompany us this evening," Lucius replied.
Severus looked around once more and noticed that there were some familiar faces missing. "Did you have competition this eve?" Severus asked as Nikola and Karkaroff entered the throng of people.
"Yes," Lucius said through his teeth. "Bella and her husband decided that they simply had to have a party themselves. Make it a truly pure-blood affair."
"Well, if it's any consolation, regardless of my blood status, I would much rather be here than there."
"I wonder why that is." He stepped aside, and Severus frowned as he stepped forward. He scanned the crowd but couldn't see Hermione anywhere.
Until he suddenly felt eyes on him, and he whipped his head back to the cluster of women he'd scanned before.
He stopped breathing. Then immediately wished he'd allowed his vanity to take the reins earlier in the evening.
Hermione was radiant. Her curls were exaggerated, pinned to her head with only a lock or two cascading onto her shoulders. Her dress was deep charcoal gray, fluttering at the bottom like a flag in the wind. She smiled at him, and then excused herself from the others.
They met halfway, and she bowed her head with a little curtsy before offering her hand. "Apprentice Snape," she greeted, her voice a touch huskier than normal.
"Miss Granger," he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "You look exquisite."
"Thank you," she said, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. "I like the frock coat."
"I'm not sure if I should be pleased or disturbed. If the context were clearer."
"You would go with di—" she cut off with a gasp. "The latter."
Severus merely hummed in reply, stroking her hand with his thumb. "Before I spend the rest of my evening with you in my arms, I think I must make some introductions," he said, turning and tucking her hand in this elbow while he scanned the room.
He found Nikola speaking with some other masters, Karkaroff as close to his side as he could get, and Severus led Hermione to them.
"Master Nikola, if I may interrupt," he said as he approached, the masters' laughter quieting at the request. "I would like to introduce to you Miss Hermione Granger-McGonagall. Hermione, my master, Ivan Nikola."
"Granger?" Nikola said as he took Hermione's offered hand. "The famous potioneer?"
"A distant relation. Unfortunately, I was unable to learn more from my family before I lost my parents," she swiftly explained as she gave a dainty curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. I hear from Severus rarely, but when I do, he speaks most highly of you."
"And I think quite highly of him." Nikola smiled.
"You had best," another one of the masters spoke up. "Snatched him away before any of us could."
"You said you could not take apprentice, Asimov."
"Had I known it was this man who was searching for one, I would have changed my answer. When I enquired, I was told young Mr. Snape here was but sixteen, and only in his sixth year of school. Had I known he would graduate a year early..."
"We all would have, Asimov," another master replied. "But enough, we cannot change the past. Now, Miss Granger, are you interested?"
"I'm afraid I've chosen Arithmancy," she answered.
"Probably for the best that there won't be two Master Snapes in the Potions field," Asimov said, studying Hermione in a way that made Severus clench his teeth.
"Quite," Hermione replied.
Nikola turned to Severus. "As long as I see you in the laboratory by ten tomorrow morning, you are free to do what you wish, with whom you wish, for as long as you wish, for the rest of the night."
"Thank you, Master," Severus said with a deep bow, offering another to the masters, and then took himself and Hermione to the dancefloor. He needed to hold her, and this was the best way to do so in polite company.
"I wasn't sure if I would see you," Severus prompted after they'd done a few turns.
"I didn't want to make a promise I couldn't keep. Dumbledore was making it difficult for me to leave. He said he would already have you here, and he believed I wouldn't be expected to attend without you. In fact, he seemed quite convinced that you'd object to my presence."
"No," he stated with a subtle shake of his head. "I would never."
"Good." She smiled warmly.
"You seem different," he noted, taking in her charms work that made her appear older, more mature. More pure-blood.
She leaned in to him. "I wanted to play the part. To be the part for you. And I didn't think the women here would dress in bright colors."
"Did you wear bright colors to the Yule Ball this year?"
"Actually, that was canceled," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Apparently, Professor Scamander was so incensed with how Dumbledore runs Hogwarts, that she went to the Ministry and the board and told them everything that was going on. The fact that more than three dozen students were intoxicated at a school function, intended or not, made them decide to cancel the Yule Ball. They blamed budget cuts."
"Of course." Severus twitched his lips.
They fell silent for a time, and Severus enjoyed holding her. As they moved, he took note of those around him. At this point, he recognized the inner circle Death Eaters by their voices. And as they went past various crowds and couples, he started putting faces to those names. They wore their masks at all times, and while he knew some of them without them, now he was certain he knew them all. He was mentally composing an up-to-date list for Alastor when he saw Lucius approaching them.
"I hate to interrupt," he said, glancing around the room. "But it turns out that Narcissa is in need of me, and I have to step away. I merely wanted to extend an invitation to one of the guest suites in the Manor."
Hermione blushed. "Is that appropriate?"
"More than a room in any other establishment. My father made me Lord of the Manor, and so he has no say in who stays here and in which room." Lucius bowed to Hermione before offering Severus his hand.
In that quick, fleeting moment, without moving his lips, Severus softly whispered the spell to slip into his friend's mind and quickly wish he hadn't.
He watched Lucius leave the room, a dozen ideas already turning in his head.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"Not here," Severus replied, glancing around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to them. They were as anonymous as they could be, so he turned her toward the entrance of the ballroom with a hand on her lower back. Once out in the hallway, an elf hopped from one foot to another before leading them to the east wing.
It was probably a good ten minutes of climbing stairs and winding down corridors before they were led to a large bedroom that held its own seating area. Lucius had even had the foresight (or perhaps the presumption) to send up wine.
When the elf disappeared with a pop, Severus led Hermione to the divan and sat down beside her.
"What's the matter, Severus?" she asked quietly.
"It would seem Narcissa is having a similar problem that Delia had."
"But you fixed that. You even submitted a commentary on it."
"Yes." Severus nodded. "But that was before I was under the tutelage and thumb of a master. In multiple ways. Nikola would approve of gifting it to Narcissa, or even brewing it for her myself. The Dark Lord would deem it worthy to further the Malfoy line, I believe, but as Bellatrix hasn't had any children from her union, it may be that those things matter little to him. And then there is Dumbledore, who would tell me not to do it, I'm sure."
"And what does Severus want to do? Set aside all those other factors, forget everything else. Would you do that for them?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
"Then ask your master if you can do it for them," Hermione said easily. "But maybe you should wait until after your Mastery. So you can make the decision with one less master to worry about."
Severus narrowed his eyes at her. "You know something."
"I know things. Should that really surprise you?" she retorted.
"Did you know a young Malfoy in the future?"
"You know I can't say."
"I am aware, yes," he said, moving toward her slowly, like a predator with his prey. He kissed her neck, saying against her skin, "But I do know some things. Such as how I have already begun to look like the man you knew." He nipped her skin, hearing her gasp and feeling quite pleased with the results. "And how you find that man ... attractive."
"I didn't always," she reminded him.
"No, but you do now, don't you?"
"Immensely," she sighed, one of her hands going into his hair, the other caressing the buttons of his coat.
He pushed her down onto the divan by his presence in her personal space alone, shifting from her neck to her lips, tasting her happily as she began to work on his buttons.
Severus spared one fleeting thought about how he should repay his master for these hours of freedom, before Hermione's fingers found the hairs on his chest and all intelligent thought took a back seat in his brain.
—————S—————
The burn pulled him from his slumber, and he frowned before his heart plummeted into his stomach. He looked at Hermione, sleeping beside him, and he feared he wouldn't be able to bid her a proper farewell. Walking away from her without looking back once again. She was going to hate him.
A soft knock sounded on his door.
"Severus," Lucius called out cautiously.
He rose from bed, pulling on his pants and trousers in one go before he opened the door.
Light from the hall flooded into the room through the crack, and he glanced behind him to see if it disturbed Hermione. "What is it? I've been summoned, I need to prepare."
"The Dark Lord is here," Lucius explained. "He's in the ballroom. There was ... there was an incident at the Lestranges. He wants us there."
"Is it only those who have a Mark?" Hermione asked, startling both men. She was sitting up in bed, the blanket pulled to her chest, hair only a little tousled from sleep and their earlier activities.
"No," Lucius answered. "The wives and companions of this evening's guests are there, and no one is allowed to leave the Manor. But you do not have to come, if you do not wish."
"I'll be down in a moment," Severus said, and at Lucius' nod, he closed the door and turned on the lights with a wave of his hand.
He was genuinely surprised to find Hermione already reaching for her gown and pulling it on.
"It isn't going to be pleasant," Severus warned her, hoping she would stay away. He dressed as quickly as he could, cheating with a spell he'd read about to fasten the many buttons on his coat.
"I know," Hermione responded, turning toward him. There was resolve in her posture, though fear in her eyes. She was entering the snake pit, the real snake pit, as the Death Eater's lady she was meant to be. The future wife he hoped she would become.
Once they were both presentable, Severus took her hand and focused his energy on the Mark, and Apparated them both outside of the ballroom.
They entered with another couple of Death Eaters who, by their states, had been in equally pleasant company. And from the disgruntled look in a couple of their eyes, had been right in the middle of enjoying that company.
The Dark Lord was in the middle of the ballroom, many giving him a wide berth as he paced. He glanced up, taking in the room, then came to a stop.
"We had some unexpected guests at the Lestranges' this evening. The Aurory," the Dark Lord announced in a cold, stiff tone. "I do not yet know how they knew we would be there, how they knew there would be so many of my most loyal followers. But as this event was arranged after the traitor was taken care of, someone among you is a spy."
Severus refused to react, and Hermione only flinched the slightest bit. He did notice more than one nervous face.
"Rookwood!" the Dark Lord called, and the man came forward, kneeling before his master.
Severus watched, hoping he appeared as utterly disinterested as he wanted to. Rookwood whined, his jaw clenched and his body tense as Voldemort held his head and tore into his mind. When the Dark Lord was done, he was released, and another Death Eater was called. It appeared the search was random, and Severus thought would-be Death Eaters were also selected, since he couldn't identify some of them.
"Hermione," the Dark Lord called, and Severus' blood went cold.
She let go of him, head held high. She walked with a confidence Severus did not have. His heart pounded and his palms grew damp as he watched her bow before the Dark Lord and looked the devil directly in the eye.
Her gasp came not when Voldemort touched her cheek, but when he barreled into her mind. Severus watched helplessly as blood trickled down her nose, staining the material of her dress.
"I am sorry to have caused you distress," the Dark Lord said suddenly, removing his hand from Hermione's face. "I had to be sure."
"Of course, my Lord," she said, bowing again before heading back to Severus. Her head was held high once more, and she conjured a handkerchief as she crossed the ballroom.
As she dabbed her face, Severus resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly. How had she done that? He knew the Dark Lord had been in her head before, but their secrets were so much bigger now, more dangerous. He settled for placing his hand on her back and waited for his turn.
"I bet it's Snape," Donovan Mulciber declared. The room instantly turned to Severus, but he merely maintained his air of boredom. "He was hanging around Mudbloods and blood traitors before I was tossed out of Hogwarts. Bet his woman is one, too."
"I have just been in her mind," the Dark Lord hissed. "She is but a schoolgirl, too focused on studies and Severus to give time or energy to any other cause. But ... I have not been in Severus'."
Without waiting for an invitation, Severus stepped forward. He dropped to a knee, bowing his head low, pushing the embarrassment of Hermione seeing him like this behind his Occlumency shields.
Without warning, sharp nails bit into the skin of his temples, and Voldemort turned his head to pierce into his eyes.
The surface image, of course, was the evening. He allowed disappointment to tinge his memory of learning the Dark Lord wouldn't be present. It then skipped back to filter through his days with Nikola. The Hogsmeade run came up, but the Marauders' presence was altered to only include Lupin. Black was easily swapped for his brother, Pettigrew for a nameless girl. The Dark Lord went as far back as the evening in the woods, when Severus was Marked. He lingered on the aftermath, but the pain had been so overwhelming that Severus couldn't remember what had happened or who was there when he returned. For all the Dark Lord knew, it was just Hermione there, caring for his new Mark.
"He is loyal," the Dark Lord lashed out. He turned to Mulciber. "Loyal! And you say otherwise for what reasons?"
"He is a half-blood, my Lord. And was seen frequently with those who side with Albus Dumbledore."
"He has renounced his disgusting father and the wretched heritage it brought him when he killed the man. He is as pure as me. And if he is seen with blood traitors, it is because they are trying to convince his lady to leave him for them. I have seen it. Minds cannot lie, Mulciber." He then turned to Severus, and in a much more measured tone, said, "You are a loyal follower, Severus. And as such, I will allow you to punish Mulciber for so eagerly labeling you a traitor."
"My Lord?" Mulciber protested weakly as Severus heeded the nonverbal command to rise.
The Dark Lord shot his wand out to Mulciber and the man was on his knees in an instant. Cruciatus Curse, probably. Severus had noticed it was a favorite of the Dark Lord's. "I said Severus would dole out your punishment, and so he will. I suggest you come forward, Mulciber."
Donovan rose the moment he was able and walked with unsteady legs to stand in front of Severus. He was smug, as though he was sure he could survive anything Severus did. But there was something else there, too, just behind his eye. Mulciber had placed himself in an odd position, at an angle. He was hiding something.
Severus pulled his wand from his sleeve and began to cast what he knew would be a long, drawn-out jinx.
Mulciber began to laugh. "A tickle jinx, Snape?" he said through his laughter.
Severus sneered. "Have you ever been tickled for a long period of time? It's quite fascinating how your body reacts in the beginning, isn't it? The laughter. Did you know that it's a way for your body to relieve the stress of an attack? It's what I'm doing: attacking you. Slowly," he said, watching as panic replaced the cockiness in Mulciber's eye even as he laughed harder. "I'm caressing all your pain receptors. And ever so slowly, you'll wish you could beg me to stop."
He continued the jinx, wondering if the Dark Lord would ask him to stop soon. As the seconds passed, Mulciber began to cry, clutching himself around the waist as if that would somehow help with the jinx. His eyes kept darting to the same place behind the Dark Lord, and it became too much for Severus to not look.
"What is it, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked.
Severus hesitated only a moment. "He suspects someone else," he explained. "Someone over there. He keeps looking."
The Dark Lord followed Mulciber's gaze, and without ordering Severus to stop, he began to rip through the minds of those in the vicinity.
There was the scent of urine hanging in the air as the Dark Lord went through Death Eaters and guests alike, until he came to a young man that Severus didn't recognize.
"Enough, Severus," the Dark Lord ordered after a few moments. He studied the man he held by the chin, then turned slowly toward Severus. "You and Hermione may resume your intimate celebrations. All of you, return to what you were engaged in before I had the misfortune of interrupting your entertainment. I wish you all a happy rest of the Yule season."
Severus bowed, but didn't stick around to find out what else would happen. He had a feeling Mulciber and the young man would be dragged to the dungeon below the Manor for a special sort of torture only the Dark Lord could dream up.
He turned back to Hermione but stopped short when he saw the horrified look in her eyes. It was subtle; had he not known her so well, he may have thought she was unaffected. He approached slowly, reaching for her, expecting her to flinch away. Instead, she joined him at once and let him lead them back to their room.
The entire way back was incredibly nerve-wracking. He checked constantly to see if she was terrified of him, if she seemed uncomfortable with him now that she'd seen him torture a man.
He opened the door and walked them through it.
She was waving her wand around the room, setting up a ward of some kind. Once finished, she turned to him, her voice shaking. "I suppose you'll be escorting me back to Hogwarts in the early morning," she stated, moving to unwrap her dress.
"Yes." Severus frowned. "After an evening like this, I won't have the luxury of staying in bed with you until our time together is up."
"Well," Hermione said, her dress pooling at her feet. "I'm sure if we put in the effort, we could return to enjoying our time together. If not, well, I do miss simply being held by you." She gave him a smile, a genuine one, then laughed nervously. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Severus. I was well aware that this wasn't the sort of group that sat around picking flowers and braiding them into each other's hair. Nor did I ever suspect you to not be a little Dark yourself. Now come over here. You're entirely too clothed and I need to feel you. It's not precisely pleasant, having the Dark Lord rip through your mind, and ... and I refuse to let a bunch of Dark Wizards spoil my night."
He should be used to it by now, her unwavering love, her constant faith in him. But Severus was sure there would never be a day that he wouldn't be shocked to find her still at his side, despite all that happened, and would continue to. He suspected Hermione was helping him hold on to his sanity as well as his humanity, and he'd hate to see what would have happened to either had she decided to walk away or had never shown up in his life.
"As the lady wishes," he said, getting to work on his buttons, and shoving the memory of the evening out of mind.
January 9, 1978
Severus,
As you requested. Be sure to go through the proper channels before you do this.
Happy birthday.
Love,
Eileen Prince
~
Severus,
Happy birthday. I hoped this would be ready in time for Christmas, but as it wasn't, I bought dragonhide boots. This is why I apologized so profusely over the boots. I know you love them, and I know they were better quality than your old ones, but that's not the point. I'm sorry again, for the delay. But I hope this makes up for it.
All my love,
Hermione
Severus stared at the platinum-lined cauldron. It was small and must have cost more Galleons than he'd ever want her to spend on him, but it was beautiful.
"From your Hermonee?" Nikola asked, picking up the cauldron and looking it over. "Marry her now. She knows quality and buys you good tools."
Severus laughed. "Ah, yes. Marry the witch for her desire to stock my lab."
"People have married for worse reasons," Nikola said, glancing at Igor before continuing his work.
—————H—————
February 14, 1978
"Are you sure you can't stay?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.
When she saw him coming out of Minerva's office when she was heading to Transfiguration this morning, she couldn't believe her luck. But then he was heading to Dumbledore's office, and it wasn't until near the end of lunch that she was able to see him.
"I can't," he affirmed, holding her as close as was polite. They were out by the gates, and while no one came out this way, Hagrid's hut wasn't far away, and who knew if Dumbledore or anyone else could see them. "Nikola only gave us until one."
"I wish I'd known you were coming," she sighed, resting her head on his chest.
"I don't. I had to ask Minerva a favor, and then I fully expected to be tied up with Dumbledore the rest of the time. I had no hope of seeing you at all, to be frank. I had no desire to make a promise to see you, today of all days, and not be able to follow through. This, right here, is more than I could have hoped for."
"It's getting bad, isn't it?" she asked quietly. "The war outside."
"It's certainly not getting better. The Dark Lord is bolder. Now that he has a few of his followers in the Ministry, he thinks that nothing can stop him from taking over. One way or another, he will try to get someone in the school. And then... I don't want to think about it."
She exhaled loudly. "I wish there was more I could do."
A moment of silence passed between them as Hermione ignored the cold just to breathe him in and feel his warmth.
"Dumbledore told me you were quite popular this morning," Severus said, and she couldn't tell if his tone was teasing or jealous.
She lifted her head and looked at him. His eyes were dark, but they held some humor. His jaw was tight, though.
"The chocolates were from Sirius. Mostly because I went on and on this the weekend about how insipid this holiday is. Especially when Lily kept reminding me how alone I am. If you couldn't be bothered to send more than a letter every two months... And then today, of course, she and Remus both had to point out that this is the second time we've seen each other, and not only had I not been told ahead of time, but that you hadn't bothered looking for me."
"So why are you waiting?" Severus asked, and Hermione was taken aback by the question. "You and I both know there's at least another year of this, of this seeing each other—"
She placed a finger on his lips. "Shut up, Severus. Don't, please."
"I just want to remind you that you have a choice," he said, reaching for her hand. "Your fingers are ice. You should head inside."
"I guess," she relented. "I miss you."
"And I never tire of hearing how my feelings are reciprocated. We probably won't see each other again until closer to the summer."
"Well then, expect my owl."
"I look forward to it," he said, and surprised her with a sound kiss before heading to the gates.
She shook herself out of her surprise and was about to watch him leave when the crack of his disappearance broke through the air, and her heart.
Bloody hell, she missed him. And it killed her not being there for him when she knew he must be going through hell. The Death Eaters were in the papers more and more. She heard stories whispered in the corridors of Aurors going missing or tortured. And then, there was the other side. Often, there were whispers of Death Eater arrests, mostly young ones who were too arrogant to hide. Each day got worse without word from Severus.
Dumbledore had merely smiled serenely the few times she'd gone to him to ask how Severus was doing. He would tell her not to worry about it, offer her a peppermint, and then enquire after Remus or Sirius. The first time she'd left his office, she found herself spending her entire evening with Remus, laughing and talking. And while it was an enjoyable evening, when he'd asked why she sought him out, she couldn't give him a reason. When the second time led her to Sirius, with a sudden inexplicable urge to cuddle him, she vowed off the peppermints from Dumbledore's office.
The trudge back up to the castle was slow, cold, and lonely. Yes, the holiday was insipid, and no, she wasn't angry that Severus had done nothing for her, but it was a painful reminder that they were apart. That, while she knew nothing would actually happen to him, she could still lose him. She knew his future, and she was sure that his home life was happy, but she was not sure if she was a part of it.
"Hermione," Remus called, and she noticed that lunch was over. Except, well, he shouldn't have been outside.
She watched as Sirius waved to her, waved quickly to Remus, and then ran to catch up with Peter, James, and Lily as they headed to Care of Magical Creatures.
She came up the path a little more, glancing at the others now and then until she was standing next to Remus. "We're going to be late for Runes."
"No, we won't," Remus replied. "It's been canceled. Professor Niward hit Professor Darcy with a spell during lunch. It knocked him out cold, so no Runes for the day."
"How convenient," Hermione replied as they headed into the castle.
"In what way?" Remus asked, glancing behind them.
"I'm not in the right frame of mind for class," she admitted, and found her feet following a path to one of the enclosed courtyards.
"I imagine," Remus agreed as he followed her outside.
It was an odd contradiction, the snow on the ground and the warm air. Perpetual warming charms and a preservation spell on the snow. Odd, really, as it wasn't as though the students frequented the small space.
Hermione moved to one of the benches and plopped down. As Remus joined her, she picked up a handful of snow and began molding it into a ball.
"It's funny," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I knew a man much like Severus in my old school. And while I respected him, I can't say I particularly liked him. I held no ill feelings toward him, but he wasn't pleasant. He certainly wasn't the sort of person I would have expected to fall for, and yet..." She stopped short as she felt her heart stutter. Too much information.
"Did you have any crushes at your old school?" he asked, and she looked at him and saw the warm, friendly smile she recalled on his older face. But then again, they were eighteen now, or nearly so. He was much closer to the age she'd met him than she wanted to admit. In just a couple years, the very boy he was asking about would be born.
"One," she replied. "He was ... well, he was much like ... he'd have fit in with you lot, that's for sure. More James and Sirius." She wanted to be cheeky, portray a particular fondness for Peter, but her stuttering heart warned her not to.
"And nothing like Severus," Remus chuckled.
She smiled. "No, he most certainly wasn't. But why do you ask?"
"I just wanted to make sure that you didn't have a particular type," Remus replied, a bashfulness taking over his smile before it faded entirely. "You were surprised to see him again. And it's the only time you've spent some time together. And even then, he didn't tell you. He certainly wasn't going to seek you out, and ... Hermione, he barely writes. And when he does, it's less than half a sheet of parchment."
"He's busy," she defended softly, looking down at the snowball in her hand. "You know as well as I do that he has much more to worry about than just his apprenticeship. I won't add to the weight of his pressures..." She stopped, frowning. Turning back to Remus, she said, "Wait, what makes you thin—"
It took her a moment for her brain to process that Remus' mouth was on hers. His lips were moving, coaxing, trying to stir a reaction, and his hands were cupping her cheeks.
She made to slap him, and in the process, shoved the snowball against his face and into his ear. He withdrew with a yelp.
"Remus!" she spat, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as she took a step away from him.
He shook the snow off his face and out of his hair, looking at her with sad puppy dog eyes. It would have been amusing if she didn't want to slap him again for good measure.
"Hermione. You have to know—you have to know how much I care for you, how much I adore you. I may not be able to give you the comfortable life Severus can, but I can make you happy."
"I am happy," she said through clenched teeth, her wand falling into her hand and giving her something to grip tightly.
"No, you're not." Remus shook his head in pity. "You're terribly unhappy almost all of the time."
"Of course I'm not all smiles and warmth, the man I love is away and I never know if he's safe!"
"You may love him, but are you sure he loves you?"
Her nostrils flared, her hair crackled, and her body tensed. Had Severus seen it, he would have remarked how attractive she was. She could almost hear his voice in her mind coaxing her, encouraging her.
"Are you sure he's waiting for you like you are him?"
She whipped her wand in Remus' direction and a flock of yellow canaries shot from the end to attack him.
Hermione watched the carnage for a moment with some satisfaction before she stormed back into the castle. She would much rather spend the rest of her free time in the library or the common room reading than face him. Or, perhaps, she could sneak into her aunt's office and hide there. Anywhere Remus wouldn't find her.
—————H—————
She'd been in Minerva's office since leaving Remus in the courtyard. When the elder witch came in to find her office occupied, she said nothing. She did, however, try to peek at Hermione's reading numerous times.
"You know I've chosen Arithmancy. I don't think you could sway me to take up a second Mastery in Transfiguration."
Minerva startled at being caught snooping. "And why ever not?" she demanded. "I don't think Severus would mind if you continued your education. I don't imagine he'd want the pair of ye settled down with children right away."
Hermione snorted. "Since children would require us to see one another, and that probably won't happen with a regular enough basis for a couple of years yet, I don't think I have to worry about that. And I think we're getting a bit ahead of ourselves." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Besides, Severus and I might not make it to the end of the month, let alone longer."
"Why would ye say that?" Minerva asked, her voice deepening as if she were about to lay into someone.
"Remus kissed me," Hermione confessed softly, hoping that she was having a conversation with her aunt and not her Head of House. "It wasn't welcome, and he got both snow and a hex because of it. But Severus has already had enough people whispering in his ear that others have been vying for my attention. He's already worried that I won't wait or that others have caught my attention."
"He'd be a right fool if he was angry at you for Mr. Lupin's transgressions," she said sternly. "And all the whispers I know of involve a young man who quite clearly has no interest in ye."
Hermione's laugh was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Yes?" Minerva called, and the door cracked open just enough for Sirius' head to pop through.
"Professor McGonagall," he acknowledged respectfully.
"Come in, Mr. Black," she said, waving him in. "I'm here as an aunt, so you'll excuse some liberties between me and Hermione."
"Yes. I came to see if you were all right," Sirius said, sitting in the empty chair beside Hermione.
"He told you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"He didn't have to, to be honest," Sirius replied. "We were, er..." He glanced at Minerva.
She rolled her eyes. "I think I'll head to the kitchens for some tea," she excused as she stood up, setting her quill in its holder.
"Trust us alone together?" Sirius taunted.
"More than I'd trust you alone with Mr. Lupin," she called over her shoulder before leaving.
Sirius paled. "Well."
"You were saying?" Hermione giggled.
"Yes. Right. Right, we were... we were watching you on the map. Started after you left with Severus, actually. Remus wanted to see what was going on, and James, well, honestly, he was being a prat and seeing if there was anyone else with Severus. Remus mentioned he was going to try to talk to you when Severus left. We saw on the map how you guys were sitting together. And then for a few seconds you overlapped, and then you were very much not overlapping. He said he was sure you'd be okay with it, but... Remus means well."
"Remus is presumptuous."
"Remus is in love with you," Sirius corrected. "I think he has been for as long as Snape has. So, to him, all he sees is the competition not paying you the attention you deserve."
"And what do you see?"
"I see what Remus can't: the spark of joy in your eyes when you see him; the way Snape's posture changes when he sees you. I see short letters from a man who doesn't waste words, and there are always little things that Remus overlooks. Don't think I didn't notice your birthday letter drenched in Amortentia. Or the holiday letter with a sprig of mistletoe," he said, arching his brow and grinning knowingly.
"You're quite observant. How much of it is ensuring Severus is treating me well, and how much of it is waiting for Remus to come to his senses?"
"Touché," he acceded, sobering. "But Remus won't see me like that."
"Listen to you two, quarreling like an old married couple." The memory of Severus sneering at the pair in her third year resurfaced. She remembered him all snark, all anger, but now that she knew him, she thought she could remember the twitch of his lips, the glint in his eye. The same subtle mirth in Sirius' despite the seriousness of the situation.
"Perhaps one day he will."
Sirius snorted. "Who said I want him to?"
"Oh please, Mr. Black," Minerva said as she came in, levitating a tray beside her. "If he wasn't practically your brother and had Miss Evans in his room, we'd all think you and Mr. Potter were an item."
April 2, 1978
Hermione,
I want to start off this letter by saying that you have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who sends my regrets, for I can't imagine how much you worried not hearing a word from me after such a letter.
If anything, I'm impressed you told me. Lupin's kiss, as unwanted as it was, could have been something you kept to yourself to keep the peace. Instead, you risked my anger, my jealousy, and your heart by telling me the truth. Your honesty, while admittedly incurring the former two, made me cherish having hold of your heart even more. Hermione, my love for you has not wavered in the slightest, and I'm sorry, truly sorry, for the stress my late reply has undoubtedly caused you.
Lupin, however, will need to watch his back when we meet next.
I also feel I should tell you that Black wrote me about the incident as well, and essentially asked me to forgive his precious Moony. All I can say is, tell Black that he should keep Lupin as far from me as possible.
Now, to satisfy the wolf, what should I wax poetic about? How I miss being suffocated in my sleep? Waking to a mouthful of curls? I'd lament your lack of snoring, but even if that were the case, Karkaroff would take your place and surpass you. Your chatter? I haven't had a textbook recited back to me in quite some time.
I will divert from the ways in which your absence is marked by noting this: Minerva was quite miffed about your lack of desire for a Transfiguration Mastery. Prepare yourself to be gifted a few advanced texts on your birthday. You may be in a Mastery all your own by then, but that will not stop her, I fear.
And on the topic of masteries, I'll be taking the first round of exams late next month. With Karkaroff. He's not happy about it, but he could have easily done the same last year if he'd been more experimental. At least, that's what I think.
I can write no more, I'm afraid. To speak more of you would be trite or repetitive; of my Mastery, narcissistic; and of other matters, impossible. I look forward to your letters, even though I cannot reply.
I do hope they keep coming.
Yours,
Severus
Hermione clutched the letter, happy tears streaming down her face as she reread it over and over. He wasn't angry with her. He didn't hate her. And while it was never explicitly said, he was waiting for her. The relief was so strong, she was sure she radiated it.
"A letter from Severus, I'm guessing?" Remus asked, and when Hermione turned to him, he gestured to her face. "You're crying. It's only ever because of him."
"You aren't going to try to kiss me again, are you?" she asked warily.
Whether Remus had thought to do it himself or Sirius had asked him to, Remus had apologized for the incident. Profusely. Publicly. Whether that was his odd way of making sure Severus found out through the grapevine or his strange sense of chivalry, Hermione had forgiven him if only for the fact that he was willing to humiliate himself twice. He was also quite careful to keep any touch platonic, and to not bring up the very person they spoke of.
"No," he said as he came up to sit with her on the window seat. "But I want you to know, I'm here if you need a shoulder to cry on."
"How do you know they aren't tears of joy?" she asked honestly.
Remus seemed truly baffled by the notion. "Are they ever when it comes to Severus?"
She considered that. "I suppose that when I cry over him, it's not always pleasant. But it's not all misery, either. Sometimes it's fear, because I might lose him. Other times it's frustration, because he has a way of avoiding things."
Remus merely nodded. "Well, when the inevitable heartbreak happens, I'll be here."
"What makes you think there'll be heartbreak?"
He shrugged. "Lily and James. She made a good point when they split up: school romances never last."
June 30, 1978
It was a bittersweet thing, holding the piece of parchment in her hand, wearing the plain black robes with the Hogwarts tie. It wasn't the tie she'd worn on the train her first day, the one she'd removed the night she was sorted. It was borrowed, and she would give it back when the day was over.
She'd graduated top of her class, with a string of Outstandings. Strange, as she barely remembered studying for her N.E.W.T.s. Maybe it was because she was too busy making sure the boys studied. Which she'd have done with an entirely different generation in 1998.
"And that concludes our graduation ceremony for this Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Class of 1978." Dumbledore pointed his wand into the air, shooting off sparks in all four houses' colors, the red a little brighter than the others.
The graduating class rose, lifted their wands into the air, and shot a spark of their own house color into the air. She missed one particular green spark more than she should.
As the others dispersed, Hermione tucked her wand into her sleeve and reached up to loosen her tie. Approaching the stage on the Quidditch Pitch, she made her way to the stairs she'd ascended as a student not thirty minutes before.
"Thank you for this, Aunt Min," she said as she handed Minerva the tie.
The elder witch beamed before she wrapped Hermione in a tight embrace. "I'm glad that there won't be any more 'professor' nonsense between us. Elinor is very keen to have you start your apprenticeship."
"I'm quite keen myself, actually," Hermione replied. "I could use a distraction."
Minerva chuckled. "Well, find another way to fill the next couple weeks. We all need a break."
Hermione was about to agree, but before she could say something, an overenthusiastic Ravenclaw came up and captured Minerva's attention. With a wave, Hermione stepped off the stage.
Bob and Delia were chatting with some old friends of theirs, so she didn't interrupt them. Lily was busy introducing her friends to her parents, and the boys were nowhere to be seen. Dumbledore was watching her, a gentle smile on his face as if he were inviting her to have a chat, but she had no desire to speak to him.
Just as she was about to turn away from him, pretending she hadn't noticed his seeking gaze, she noticed his smile lose its weight and fade altogether.
Frowning, she turned her head.
"Severus," she gasped with genuine surprise.
"Hello," he said, his lips twitching as if he wanted to smile. She waited a moment, hoping he would hold her, but he shifted from foot to foot. Clearing his throat, he said, "I thought we could take a walk."
"O-okay," she said, turning once again to glance at the headmaster. He seemed pleased, nodding to himself.
She shook it off, and then followed Severus as he led her off the pitch, back toward the grounds. He said nothing until they were crossing the bridge, veering toward the lake.
"You must be pleased: top of the class," he commented, indicating the pin on her lapel.
She glanced down at it, then at him. "My competition left," she teased to his stoic visage. His lips twitched in that attempted smile again, but then he shifted his hands behind his back.
"I didn't score quite as high as you in some subjects. I think you would have taken the award regardless."
He brought them to the tree by the lake that they had sat beneath many a time, where most of their best memories were made. Something about this time was different. They stood side by side in silence for some time, watching the ripples made by the giant squid, watching the people coming from the pitch in the distance.
"We became friends here," he stated.
"We did," she agreed. "It's the setting of some of my favorite memories." There was a pleading note to her voice that contrasted his formal tone. His apparent apathy made Remus' words echo in the back of her mind.
"Mine as well. I realized here that you'd become much more to me than I'd thought." He looked at his feet, and Hermione turned away, looking at the lake. "And so, it's here that I would like to end the way things are between us."
Her eyes shut, only to fly open when she felt him touch her palm; the need to flee surged through her and then died upon finding him on one knee.
"I could ask you to keep waiting, but I have nothing more to offer than this ring. So, I ask: Hermione Granger, after all you've seen, all we've been through, and all we've yet to face, will you marry me?"