—————S—————
September 22, 1978 (continued)
"I think it would benefit us if Dumbledore thinks the pair of you are in a romantic relationship," Severus presented to Hermione and Black, glancing at the bar to ensure Lupin was still busy with drinks.
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, and Severus was quite glad they'd had sex before heading to the village. He was fairly certain she wasn't going to be too keen on this plan. But it needed to happen.
He was, after all, a spy. And while Severus may not be able to read Dumbledore's mind, the former Gryffindor lacked subtlety.
"I'd bet my inheritance that the headmaster's motive for hiring you, Black, was for you to keep Hermione's company. He has made a point to inform me countless times that he witnessed the pair of you being quite... chummy. He also wants us to call off the engagement," Severus said this just as Lupin returned.
"You're calling off the wedding?" Lupin asked as he sat down with the tray of drinks.
Black cringed and Hermione's eyes darkened.
"Heel, boy," Severus sneered. "I said the headmaster wants us to call off the wedding."
Lupin, at least, had the decency to blush.
"So, please explain how making Dumbledore believe there's something going on between us—"
"He'll think his plan to tear us apart is working, despite her being as far from your type as she could get," Severus replied.
"And when the wedding goes ahead?" Lupin asked, still that touch of hope in his voice.
Severus shrugged. "Probably believe that Hermione is unfaithful."
"Oh!" she said beside him, a look of realization plastered across her face.
"Oh?" he said, arching a brow.
"Nothing," Hermione smiled back. "Just... you made me think of something my old headmaster said once."
"Indeed?" he asked, his mind knocking on her door, requesting entry.
" I don't know if I can tell you ," she said in her mind, her voice disembodied in her consciousness. " It's a small detail that you can't know about ."
He could let it go. Besides, her words may not be reassuring, but the humor in her voice was good enough for him.
"So, Sirius and not me, because ...?" Lupin asked, and Severus barked a laugh.
"Yes, because I would let you, an untrustworthy swine who already stole a kiss from my fiancée, act as though you're in a romantic entanglement with her."
Black nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "That, and I'm quite the friend of Mrs. King," he boasted with that irritatingly charming smile.
Lupin frowned. "Sirius, that's... that's a very Muggle expression and I'm not sure you know what it means."
"No? All right, how's this: I'll be under Merlin's robes, not Nimue's skirts," he retorted, a cheeky grin on his face.
Lupin was physically taken aback. "You don't mean...?"
"Do I need to spell it out for you? I don't mind, really."
"You're—?"
"Yes."
"And they knew?"
"Oh yes."
"And James?"
"Hasn't a clue, frankly. But since he only has eyes for Evans, it doesn't make a difference." Black took a sip of his firewhisky, sighing in what might have been pleasure if he wasn't trying to hide a grimace. "Wormtail may or may not know, but honestly, I don't think it matters."
"So, you're... and that makes you the better choice for a make-believe love affair?" Lupin asked, and Severus barely kept his smirk to himself at the werewolf's petulance.
"Moony," Sirius sighed, "put yourself in Snape's shoes and think this through. Imagine you had Kitten, but someone didn't approve because of your... condition, and they wanted you two broken up. But you're engaged and happy, and—"
"You don't need to paint such a vivid picture, Black," Severus interrupted, snaking his arm possessively around Hermione's waist as Lupin's eyes took on a dreamy, far-away look.
"Right. So, the person who wants to separate you two has the chance to hire someone who may turn her head. Me or Severus. Now, Severus here has carried a torch for her as long as you have and has even, let's say, put a toe out of line in the past. And then you have me—"
"Right, yes, I get it," Lupin said, blushing and looking into his Druid Draught. "And I suppose no one would believe you're..."
"Say it, Moony. Gay." Black elbowed the werewolf. Lupin seemed to have some difficulty even thinking it.
"Can we discuss something else?" Hermione asked. "Unless, of course, you're seeing someone?"
"No," Black lamented. "No, I'm woefully single. And you, Moony? Have you found anyone worth sniffing?"
Lupin ducked his head. "No," he said quietly. "That would mean socializing, and I'm afraid this has been the most interaction I have had with anyone since leaving school."
"What have you been doing, then?" Hermione asked.
Lupin shrugged. "Private training with a new Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's a friend or something of Dumbledore's. And he's an Order member. I don't think I'll be able to actually become an Auror."
"Why haven't you gone to stay with Prongs?" Black asked.
"As you said, he only has eyes for Lily. And I don't want to be there, a shadow in the background, when they're trying to reestablish what they broke off."
"What has Lily decided to do?" Severus asked, looking to Hermione as much as the others.
"She's writing for now," Lupin offered. "I don't know if her heart is really in it, though. They don't seem to want to run her stories."
"All based on the Dark Lord, then?" Hermione asked, and Severus saw that Lupin was taken aback by her choice words.
"Yes," he said simply, taking another long drink of his draught.
They continued making small talk for a while, but as the sun began to set, and Lupin was getting deeper into his cups, Severus and Hermione left the tavern and headed back to Hogwarts.
She clung to his arm as they made their way up the winding path, and he placed his hand on hers to keep her close. She was oddly silent, and he realized in the back of his mind that she had been the entire time they were out. He looked at her, seeing a slight bit of melancholy lingering around her eyes, and the hint of regret in her mind when he allowed himself a quick skim.
It had him stopping short. "Hermione?" he said, nearly breathless as fear clawed its way in and sat heavy on his heart.
"Hmm?" she asked, looking up at him, seeming only half aware of him and their surroundings.
He swallowed. "Hermione would you... would you rather have Lupin be the one who...?" he couldn't finish the sentence. It was one thing if she acted with Black, but with Lupin?
She snapped out of whatever fog she was in and frowned. "No," she answered flippantly at first, then upon meeting his eye, became vehement. "No!" She reached up and cupped both of his cheeks in her hands. "No, Severus. I don't want to act the part with either of them. I know that flirty banter with Sirius and even taking tea in my quarters or his will be enough to alight Dumbledore's suspicions, but I want no part in giving him an actual incident to base his beliefs on. Especially not with Remus. No, it's just..." And here she trailed off, the sadness returning to her posture. "Sometimes knowing the future is difficult. Knowing too much of what's to come and who it will affect. I know you've seen yourself, but have you—?"
"I swear to you, I only saw myself through your eyes, and ... well, I suspect it must be Potter's child, given what he looked like, and a few things you didn't say during your spells. And am I to suspect the werewolf I was protecting you from was Lupin?"
Her lips quirked. "If it didn't kill me to, I'd let you take a look, so you can carry the full burden with me. But... knowing where life takes you all, it makes moments like the one we just shared with our friends heartbreaking."
Severus pulled her hands down from his face, set them on his shoulders, and then pulled her to him. He held his Hermione, reveling in the warmth, the smell, and the feel of her, as he said, "I may not be able to bear the burden of knowledge with you. But I swear, Hermione, swear it on my very soul, that no matter what happens, I will never hold it against you. I will never rage, I will never blame. Any anger at any future situation will not be at you."
"You'll still love me?" she whispered, and his heart clenched at how tiny she sounded.
"Until my dying breath."
November 17, 1978
"Fuck!" Severus cried, accioing burn salve before the curse had fully left his lips. He'd been stirring a cauldron full of Sober-Up when the Mark burned, startling him. He'd bumped his fingers against the rim of the hot cast iron, and the last thing he needed to deal with were blisters on his wand hand.
He set the stirring rod aside as he deftly caught the jar. He unscrewed the top, dabbing some paste on his fingers before setting the jar down on the counter and closing the lid. A flick of his hand and his mask was summoned while he rubbed the paste in, pausing to catch and put on the mask. Another flick of his wrist and his robes were Transfigured.
Nikola looked up from his notes. "You have that down," he observed.
"I multitask well," he replied, hearing Igor grumbling behind him about inconvenient timing. "Apologies for stepping out," Severus said with a bow.
"Don't keep him waiting," was Nikola's reply. Though curt, Severus could hear his concern.
Severus pressed his wand to his Mark and found himself in the woods in the next moment, the rest of the new inner circle still coming in. He moved to take his place and waited patiently for the others to arrive. Igor, he noticed, was one of the last.
The Dark Lord, it seemed, noticed as well. "How is Severus here before you?" he asked without preamble.
"He clearly abandoned his volatile potion," Igor retorted.
Severus scoffed.
At the sound, the Dark Lord turned toward him and closed the distance between them with eerie speed. Severus felt the Dark Lord enter his mind and allowed him to see what was happening as he was leaving, blunting Nikola's concern.
"Your fellow apprentice was far ahead of you, and it seems he has been for some time. Tell me, Igor, why should I keep you? I have Severus, a man much more skilled than you, in potions and curses. What have you to offer me?"
The masks hid any reaction the Death Eaters had, but there was a tittering around the group that made Severus nervous. Was he already thinning out the younger Death Eaters? None of them would have been at his side or as loyal as the elder ones were, so what would happen if any of the new Inner Circle pissed him off?
As Igor didn't seem to have a reply, Voldemort shot a quick Cruciatus his way, just long enough to cause pain but not torture.
"It matters not what you have to say. Tonight, you will show me! Show me what it is you can give to me, your master! Tonight, we show wizarding Britain what they truly need to be afraid of! To Diagon Alley, my friends, and we will thin out the undeserving."
There were cheers from the crowd, and while Severus raised his hand in a show of solidarity, he said nothing. He needed a way to warn the others, and damn it, he couldn't do it from here.
The Dark Lord Apparated, and it was clear they were expected to follow him right away. But Severus knew that he wouldn't be missed if he acted quickly.
One of the first to Apparate away, he first went to his mother's property. A swirl of his wand, a hasty message sent with his lioness, and he pressed his wand to his Dark Mark and was there before the others had finished appearing.
He was already sweating behind the mask, dizzy from such rapid displacement and magic use. But he had a job to do.
Following the other Death Eaters in a morbid parade, he noted many people frozen where they were on the streets. Some, mostly witches and children, fled. However, the majority just ... stood.
Leave, you drooling idiots!
Once they were in the center of Diagon Alley, the Dark Lord stopped, signaling for the Death Eaters to do so as well.
"Wizards. Witches. I don't think I need an introduction. My power, my reputation, precede me. You see these people before you, my most loyal followers, my faithful. They are high within my ranks, but if you deny your Minister, renounce their Muggle-tolerating ways, believe as I know you do deep down that you are superior to those loathsome creatures, and join me—"
"No!" a voice Severus would never forget had him fighting the urge to groan with disappointment and sigh with relief all at once. Of course James Potter would not stay quiet, ready to put himself in the spotlight against a murderous tyrant. But at least there was someone from the Order there. "No, we won't stand for your blood superiority."
The Dark Lord turned toward Potter and looked him over. Severus' heart stopped as he realized the Dark Lord may just skim the arrogant fool's mind.
"You have a Mudblood lover," the Dark Lord stated. "Talented, beautiful. Though she comes from poor stock, she could be of use in our regime. She won't ever get to be much more than a broodmare, but she will serve as a good base from which children can come from."
"You think I would subject my Lily to something like that?" Potter scoffed, and Severus nearly scoffed with him. At him. His Lily?
He looked behind Potter and caught a head of red hair against the wall of a building. She was here, so that ... no, she wasn't part of the Order. Not as far as he knew.
"You defy me? That is unwise," Voldemort hissed, and as he did, two more Gryffindors stepped out .
"We reject you as well," Longbottom said, dressed in his trainee Auror robes. The girl, one of Lily's other friends, was dressed in the same.
A survey of the crowd showed more looking as though they agreed with the fools standing alone but were not fool enough themselves to say anything.
It happened in a flash then. There were pops of Apparition, the Order of the Phoenix and a few Aurors appeared in the alley. The Dark Lord demanded the Death Eaters fight and chaos ensued.
People were trying to escape, their fear making their brains malfunction and making them run and hide rather than Apparate. Potter had engaged with someone right away, but Lily, Severus noticed, seemed to disappear. Maybe she'd Apparated? To be sure, Severus stalked to where he'd seen her, making a show of hitting a few wizards with a strong stinging curse before Stunning them or Confunding them to wander away from the battle. He turned the corner and found a small alley between two shops, and Lily at the end with Marlene McKinnon.
"Oh fuck!" McKinnon yelled and fled past him, screaming the whole way. Severus watched her for a moment before turning back to Lily.
The brave lioness had her wand pointed at him, a fierce look of determination in her eyes.
"Lils," he said, glancing over his shoulder and casting a quick notice-me-not over his shoulder, shielding the alley from view. "Lily, it's me," he said, raising his hands in surrender before slowly removing his mask.
Lily looked at him, horrified, then disgusted.
"What the hell, Sev?" she hissed, her wand jabbing forcefully toward him. "I thought you gave up this shit? I thought you didn't believe since Hermione came along. Or does she believe it too?"
"Lily I'm... it's not what it looks like."
"No? Because it looks to me like you became a Death Eater."
"Ask Black or Lupin, they'll tell you. Just... get away from here, okay? It's important..." he was cut off by the burning in his arm. They were being called to fall back. "I have to go," he said, maneuvering his wand up under his sleeve and touching the tip to his Dark Mark.
When he reappeared from his Apparition, he found himself in another village. Small, surrounded by trees, quiet. Remote. He swallowed back the bile that rose when he understood what was happening.
Occluding, distancing his conscience from what he was about to do, Severus fell into full Death Eater persona as the first wizard emerged from his cottage to see what the multiple Apparitions around their little village meant. He knew this time a stinging hex wouldn't be enough.
—————H—————
Diagon Alley wasn't as badly damaged as she thought it would be when all the Death Eaters disappeared. There were scorch marks here and there, some damaged signage and small carts, but for the most part, the area remained intact. The people, however, were another story.
Sobs of grief and devastation broke through the silence as people began to realize that there were casualties.
"Marlene!" Hermione heard Lily cry out. "Marlene, please!"
Hermione's eyes stung as she saw the open, empty stare of the girl she'd shared a dorm with not all that long ago. Someone who hated her as often as she begrudgingly liked her, who thought her the competition for Sirius' attention until she was so firmly placed at Severus' side. Someone who wanted Hermione to look her best, but simultaneously couldn't have cared less. While Hermione didn't share Lily's heartbreaking grief, she did mourn.
She went to Minerva, who was staring at a group of people clustered together.
"Min?" Hermione sniffed, putting her hand on her aunt's shoulder. Minerva startled, taking a moment to reconcile the woman who was beside her with the way she knew her niece should look, and then nodded in the direction of the dead. "The McKinnons," she said. "All of them. It looks... it looks like they had just come from Fortescue's. Why, of all the senseless...?"
"The whole family?" Hermione said, glancing back to where Lily was still with Marlene's body, James just behind her, trying to sooth her. "But why?"
"They were traditionally all Gryffindors," Minerva said softly. "Always one of Dumbledore's biggest supporters, they demanded blood equality. The perfect targets, really." Minerva glanced around. "It seems most of the fallen were either Aurors or vehement supporters of Albus."
"Do you think that was the intention?"
"Merlin knows, child. Severus' Patronus was so rushed, I don't even know if he knew."
"Order, to the meeting place," Albus declared, and Hermione stepped away from Minerva to Apparate.
The small cottage at the very edge of Hogsmeade was not Secret-Kept but had enough wards and charms on it for people to not think much of it.
There had been a meeting already in progress when Severus' Patronus announced the location and disappeared. The table was still full of tea stuff, cups and biscuits scattered around. They all Apparated in, one by one, a slow trickle that spoke of how some lingered. And, well, Hermione realized they all should have, and yet, she promptly followed Dumbledore's command.
She was cursing herself when she felt the old wizards' eyes on her. Glancing up, she noted that while he frowned, there was a note of recognition in his eyes.
"Interesting disguise, Miss Granger. I asked you to stay, but I see now that you did not," he said, gesturing to her appearance.
She hadn't thought of anyone in particular when she cast the spell, so she had no idea what she looked like, only that Minerva had been the only one to see her cast it.
"Severus made this for me," she told him as there were a couple more Apparition cracks, Sirius, Remus, and Kingsley appearing.
"Useful, but perhaps not one we should advertise. We need not worry about everyone hiding their identity so easily. But could you remove the Glamour?"
Hermione nodded, allowing the disguise to melt away with a murmured counter.
A few more people began to trickle in: James and Lily, Alastor, and Ted Tonks.
"Where's Wormtail?" James asked, looking around.
"Probably still in Diagon Alley," Lily replied solemnly. "He was getting close to Marlene."
"Really?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Marlene and Wormtail?"
Lily, eyes red-rimmed and glistening, turned a furious gaze on Sirius. "Yes, Marlene and Peter. She wasn't about to wait for you to change your mind forever. She realized Peter was sweet. That Peter was cute, she was..." She sniffed, hard. "She was trying to be better! Less self-centered!"
There was a softer crack of Apparition just outside the door, and Hermione turned and craned her neck to see Severus walking through the front door just as Molly and Arthur returned to the dining room. He shrunk his mask and robes before tucking them inside his frock coat, rubbing his face with one hand as he made his way into the room.
"I'm sorry, but—"
"YOU!" Lily cut Severus off, marching to him and slapping him hard across the face.
"Petal!" Sirius chorused with Remus' and Hermione's, "Lily!" But she didn't hear them.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here? You disgusting, terrible, awful man! You betrayed us, you betrayed us, and you just walk in here? Like you don't follow that evil lot. Get out, get the fuck out of here, you murdering swine!"
"Lily!" Hermione yelled, forcing herself between her fiancé and their friend. "You need to settle down."
"Are you with him, Hermione? Do you know what he is? Do you know what you're marrying?"
"Miss Evans," Dumbledore said calmly, making the fiery ginger turn her attention to their leader.
"He's a Death Eater! I saw him, with his mask and his robes. He was with that man , if you can even call him that. A Death Eater, Headmaster!"
"Yes, I know," he acknowledged with a nod.
"You-you know?" Lily asked, her rage wilting and turning into confusion.
"Yes. I know because I asked him. Severus had drawn Tom Riddle and his followers' attention, and when it became apparent that Severus would be more than welcome, I asked him to sacrifice his good name for the cause."
"Coerced, more like," Severus said under his breath.
"So,"—Lily looked over her shoulder sheepishly at Severus—"So, you don't believe their rhetoric?"
"No," Severus sneered. "Although I do so enjoy seeing how easily I blend in if my oldest friend, my Muggle-born friend can believe that so easily." As Lily blushed and looked at the floor, Severus turned his attention to the headmaster. His demeanor went from sneering to remorseful. "I'm sorry. There was another attack after Diagon Alley. A remote village. Wales, I believe. We were sent there immediately, and there was no way to send warning. Not that I knew where we were. It was a wizarding community, and ... and there were no survivors."
He wouldn't look at her, and Hermione knew that he was hurting. He was ashamed.
Severus took a deep breath. "He's celebrating. The fact that we demolished a village that defied him, that was filled with, as he claims, blood traitors and inferiors. Seeing as how I don't normally partake in those types of celebrations, I left."
"He will wonder where you are," Dumbledore admonished in a warning tone.
"He believes I returned to finish a potion I was working on before being summoned. Which is where I should be."
"Keep us informed, lad," Alastor said, earning a nod from Severus. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, squeezing before he stepped back and Disapparated. Within the same moment, Peter returned.
"Peter, I'm so sorry. Has her family, has she...?" Lily started asking.
Hermione watched, tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as if it would somehow stop her from saying something. To most, Peter looked disoriented, as though he hadn't quite regained his wits. But Hermione knew, she could see it in his beady eyes: he was confused. He was trying to understand why the people he called his friends were surrounding him, offering him comfort.
She excused herself to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea, sure that she'd activate her Unbreakable Vow.
—————S—————
December 24, 1978
"Are you really going to complete your apprenticeship this spring? Isn't it supposed to take three years at least?" Lucius asked, his fourth cup of elf-made wine making him more than a little friendly.
Severus nodded. "Nikola believes I am ready to complete the guild test, and with his health deteriorating, he would like less responsibilities. I believe once Igor and I are out of his hair, he will head to Russia to be with his daughters."
In fact, Severus was absolutely certain that Nikola would get the first Portkey he could. Ever since the Dark Lord ripped the brand from his arm, his health had been slowly deteriorating. Nothing terrible at first, but they'd noticed his charms weakening or failing altogether. He would tire more easily, and his potions often became little more than sludge when he tried to brew. His skin was becoming more translucent, and he slurred his speech from time to time. He was dying, and Severus was certain that only he and Nikola knew this.
"How is your father?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
Lucius, too in his cups to realize the timing of the question, sighed heavily. "He is ill often these days, as though he has suddenly aged a few decades."
Severus nodded, but before he could say or ask anything else, his attention was pulled to the entrance of the Malfoy ballroom as though he were a magnet pulled toward metal.
Hermione entered, looking positively lovely in her blue silk gown.
They hadn't seen one another since the night the Death Eaters had pillaged Diagon Alley. He'd barely been able to look at her, unsure she would stay with him once she realized the extent of the village's destruction. It had been featured in the Prophet a few days later, but the details were sparse.
It didn't say how half the village was tortured, that most of the witches were violated. That children had died, as had the elderly. At least, he knew, those who couldn't escape. Severus had managed to convince at least two fathers to stop dueling him and get their family out. One he had no choice but to bury under a pile of rubble, effectively killing the man as the entire village was set ablaze. He was pretty sure that he had knocked the bloke out, so the chances of escape...
He had tainted his soul further by murdering more people. He was certain that everything would keep piling up against him, and Hermione would be done with him.
But she wrote to him, far more frequently than she had in the past, promising that her love for him had not diminished, that she would still gladly be his wife, that he had nothing to fear.
Admittedly, it was exactly what he needed to read, after experiencing Lily's fickleness. Yes, he knew Lily was far fickler than Hermione, much more Gryffindor, but he still hadn't thought she would doubt him. Not in this, not with the way he rejected the Slytherins when Hermione came into his life.
Severus watched Hermione enthusiastically greet Narcissa, who was receiving guests while Lucius mingled. The two women clasped hands, which may as well have been an embrace by pure-blood standards. There seemed to be mutual complimenting of gowns, a friendly chat that was a bit too long, and then, finally, Hermione stepped away. She scanned the room and quickly found him in the crowd, smiling warmly when their eyes met.
"Ah, I see that time and distance have not lessened the fondness," Lucius said, though Severus refused to turn away from her until she was firmly at his side, where she belonged. "Hermione, so wonderful to see you."
"And you, Lucius," she said with a curtsy and a slight tilt of her head.
"So, when is the wedding? You have been betrothed for the last six months, it must be coming soon," Lucius taunted with a smirk, and Severus glared.
"I think it'll have to wait until the end of my apprenticeship, I'm afraid," Hermione replied, slipping her arm around Severus'. "I don't imagine we'll find time before then."
"Pity. Although, with the success Severus has had, not to mention being accepted into the Prince family, I don't foresee a reason for you to need employment."
"Well, the apprenticeship is for more than employment. Some like politics, others prefer academic pursuits."
"You're saying that although you may not need to work, you'll still pursue a career?" Lucius appeared so baffled it was nearly comical, and Severus could barely contain a smirk.
Hermione smiled. "Yes. I realize it's a bit against the norm. My mother continued her career as a Healer with my father, even after my birth. I learned to entertain and educate myself. I imagine any children Severus and I have will be academically inclined."
Severus grinned until something occurred to him: she most likely already knew if they were going to have children.
He tried to remember the fleeting set of images he had seen in her mind, but they were fading. Still, he had seen children, and while he had only caught a glimpse, there could have been more. And how else would Hermione know him from before? Perhaps she was friends with his— their —child. Or children. Would they have multiple? How many? Did he want a lot of children?
Severus thought of the time he stayed with the McGonagalls post-Oliver. They were tired, beyond exhausted, really. The little one screamed and cried and always needed something. But Delia looked so content despite the exhaustion. Bob was proud. They adored him even as he seemed set to torture them.
He thought of Narcissa, her struggles clear as every pregnant witch was greeted with a strained smile and eyes filled with longing. Parenthood, perhaps, may not be as bad as his own parents had made it out to be. He had had the perfect example of what not to be as a father.
"Severus!" Lucius smacked him on the arm, and he shook himself from his thoughts. "Merlin, man, you escaped deeper into your own head than normal. Hermione was just telling me that she has a projected completion of a year's time. Are the two of you out to set some sort of record?"
"Perhaps."
"Well, I shall leave you two to converse. As always, I've reserved a room in the east wing for you; you will not have to separate at the end of the evening." Lucius raised his glass to them and sauntered away.
Severus placed his own glass away from his body, and a moment later it disappeared as an elf plucked it away. "Shall we have a turn?"
They settled into position and began their dance.
"No Dark Lord this evening?" Hermione asked.
"No," Severus said stiffly, tensing. "We had a revel. A bit of Muggle baiting, some others... indulged in their baser instincts. And you? How is school?"
"Sirius and I are still doing rounds together," she informed him, something he had already known. "We make sure to ham up our interactions more than needed." He knew that, too. Last time he was at the school to give a report, a more in-depth one about the Wales attack, Albus had made more than one comment about how happy Hermione seemed to have Black around. How often they laughed together during rounds, often giving their position away to the students they were supposed to be on the lookout for. And that frequently, very frequently, Sirius would end up in Hermione's rooms. Often, he would not leave them until dawn.
"And what do the pair of you do in your rooms all hours of the night?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
She smirked. "We talk about boys and braid each other's hair," she snickered. "I honestly wish I was joking. Did you know he has a thing for Remus?" she asked, her eyes alight with giddiness. "I wonder if he'd be willing to try with Sirius since I'm never going to happen."
Severus smirked, pulling her closer. "Perhaps he would."
May 9, 1979
An umbrella charm in place, Severus stood at his mentor's grave and watched as the simple wooden coffin was lowered into the ground. Nikola's daughters stood nearby with a quiet strength and dignity, tears silently slipping down their cheeks as they laid their father to rest.
Severus had completed his Mastery a month ago with Igor but had not left his master's side. He was reduced to little more than a Squib, and still his lifeforce kept draining. His daughters had been contacted, Nikola not being able to make it to Russia, and they joined Severus in taking care of their father in his last days.
"You will make sure bastard doesn't win, da?" Nikola had asked Severus with a shaky, strained voice one night.
"I will," Severus vowed, finding promising this man his aid in the demise of Voldemort much more satisfying than that of Dumbledore's.
"You marry your Hermonee, make babies, raise them to be good potioneers."
Severus snorted. "That, I can't promise."
Nikola had grinned. "You don't let that Doombledore get power. He as bad, just different sort."
"I figured that out, yes." He rose, setting the drink he had on the side table, and gave the man lying on the expanded sofa a deep bow. "Thank you, Master, for your teachings, your guidance, and your ottsovskaya privyazannost."
Nikola had looked proud, reaching out to Severus. When he managed to snatch his hand, Nikola had kissed his knuckles and patted his hand.
It had been just under two years, but Severus had meant it when he thanked him for his fatherly affection. Never had any man in Severus' entire life filled the role in the way Nikola had. And now the man had passed, his magical core ripped away from him, his life along with it. Cut short because a mad man wanted an aesthetically-pleasing, youthful regime.
He'd researched it when it was more than obvious why Nikola was dying. A brand like the Dark Mark could not and should not be ripped out. It would deactivate upon the placer's death, essentially becoming a scar. But to have it removed, even by the one who put it there, resulted in the very thing Severus bore witness to.
As the coffin was lowered, the funeral over, the eldest of Nikola's daughters, Catarina, came over to him.
"Severus? Father spoke of you in letters. He was fond of you."
"And I of him," Severus said with a bow of his head.
She smiled. "We not have need for his home in Bulgaria. And potions... not our thing. He would want you to have."
Severus shook his head. "I couldn't."
"We are happy in Russia. We are far from nonsense, do not fear being dragged in. Take what you want, do what you will with rest." She kissed his cheek, then returned to her sisters, guiding them away.
Severus stood dumbstruck.
—————S—————
There had been a will. It wasn't just his daughters being kind, there was a will that left the Bulgarian residence and all its contents to Severus. Oh, the girls were left with his fortune, thankfully, but the house where Nikola lived was now Severus'.
Well, he didn't want a house in Bulgaria.
But what was in the house...
Contracts for brewing for St. Mungo's, a few clinics, and a smattering of apothecaries in Bulgaria and Germany held promise, as they were written in such a way that he could take them up upon his master's death. The ingredients, the tools... He didn't want them all, of course, as Hermione had gifted him some beautiful pieces, and he preferred new models compared to some of Nikola's. But there was some sentiment that made him hold on to a few. He could donate or sell the rest to some antique's dealer. Any Galleons he would make, he knew he couldn't hold on to. Earning them through the contracts were one thing but earning them from selling the house was not something Severus could do. He would send it to the girls, and if they refused, he would donate them. That should clear his soul a little.
But those jars of specimens, those he was keeping. They would look fantastic in an apothecary all his own. One, he hoped, he could name after his late master.
July 17, 1979
He was just finishing a brew when he felt the Mark burn. He looked over at Hermione, sitting in the plush armchair of their rented cottage, curled up with a good book. Living in sin, Delia had teased. Well, he'd done worse things than live with a woman before they were married.
"Alert the Order," he said in a bored tone. He was panicking on the inside, however. What would it be today? Muggle baiting? Punishing a family or a village for not bowing to Lord Voldemort's whims? Would they destroy something or would they celebrate something? It was just after the summer hols began, maybe there would be an initiation. He wasn't sure, and Severus knew what he would prefer, but very little went the way he preferred in life.
"Be safe," Hermione said, appearing indifferent, only belied by the slight tremble in her voice.
Oh, she was getting very, very good at playing her part. She and Narcissa had become something like friends, or at very least extremely good acquaintances. Christmas morning at the Malfoys' had nearly seemed normal. It'd felt as if they were all very good friends and had been for ages, and not connected by the whim of a maniac. That the men weren't branded slaves and their partners didn't sit helpless at the sidelines. There had been laughter and good conversation before Bellatrix strolled in like she owned the place. Her husband had lingered behind her quietly, trying to keep his distance as Lucius' lips curled into a sneer. Severus and Hermione had taken their leave.
He knew that she kept in contact with Narcissa through owl, and he had received praise from his fellow Death Eaters in the inner circle for having found such a lovely witch of high breeding.
He was always so proud and smug. How could he not be? They were complimenting the very thing they claimed was inferior.
He pressed his mask to his face, swirled his robes about his shoulders, and pressed his wand to his Mark.
He landed in familiar woods. Familiar, not because of the frequency with which the Dark Lord summoned them there, but because he had wound around these trees and treaded these grounds many times. During the summer and Christmas. He'd held a girl's hand and meant it, had his first snog against one of these trees. Not far from where he stood, he swore was the spot he'd lost his virginity.
He lifted his mask, cast the quickest wordless silencing spell he could and vomited. He knew what was going to happen. He just hoped he got to his target destination first.
He moved to join the others slowly.
"Severus, you are late!" the Dark Lord noted.
"Critical stage, my Lord. I do apologize."
Another crack signaled the arrival of someone after him.
"And your excuse, Lucius?"
"I was attempting to make an heir, my Lord. I was quite close to... laying the foundation."
The rest of them chuckled, and the Dark Lord smirked.
"You are forgiven, for I am in a forgiving mood. This village is Muggle. It is Muggle and yet, one of our own in the Ministry's office has discovered it is inhabited by a pureblood. Some half-bloods. A Mudblood." Someone spat as the Dark Lord said the word. "We will take no chance of any more of those in this village. We will see that there is nothing and no one left. My friends, enjoy!"
It was a mad dash, some of the Death Eaters stalking to the village, others Apparating into the streets directly. Well, if that's how they were going to play it.
Severus closed his eyes, and Apparated inside the McGonagall's living room.
Delia yelped.
"Oh my god, Bob!" she said scrambling up on her chair as if avoiding a mouse. As Bob went to attack, Severus ripped off his mask.
Their faces morphed from fear and anger, to confusion, and then utter disappointment.
"Oh, Severus, no..." Delia lamented, her eyes watering.
"It's not what you think, I swear, but I don't have time to explain. They're here, they're all here, and they're going to destroy the whole village. Get Ollie and get out!"
Delia, mother bear that she was, didn't have to be told twice. The witch ran up the stairs to get her son as fast as she could.
Bob lowered his wand, the realization of everything seeming to hit him slower. "Mum, though."
"I'm sorry, I haven't been inside Nan's home enough to Apparate there, and if I appear there while someone else is already inside, my cover is blown, and Hermione and I are dead."
"Cover?" Bob frowned, then shook his head. "Got it. Delia!" he called to the stairs. "I'm going to Mum's, get you and Ollie to Min's." He turned to Severus and opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he nodded once and clapped Severus on the shoulder before Apparating away. He heard the crack of Delia disappearing, and then Severus glanced around the home that had given him so many good memories one last time. Closing his eyes, he set a blaze one level lower than Fiendfyre, and walked out of the cottage.
"Woo! Nice one, Snape!" someone cheered, and Severus remembered he didn't have his mask on. He put it back on as he stalked to Nan McGonagall's cottage. He Stunned a few Muggles here and there, none that he knew. It grated on him that they were begging for God to save them, save them from the devils. He wanted so desperately to get them out, away, to do something. So, he did what he could. He hoped beyond hope that those that he did that to would not know of what was happening to them after they fell into unconsciousness. That the Death Eaters attacking would assume the victim was dead and move on.
He approached the cottage, heart sinking as he saw the door already opened. He cast a quick Homenum Revelio, finding four figures inside.
Grateful for the mask on his face, he marched in as if he were eager to participate.
"What have we here?" he asked in his most menacing voice.
"A spot of fun," Rowle replied, the smirk evident in his voice.
It looked like he had had fun with Robert McGonagall. There were, about five feet away, the splinters of a crushed wand. The man himself was pale, covered in blood, his arthritic body contorted from a Curcio cast too many times in quick succession. His breathing was short, unsteady, one of his eyes swollen shut from ... who knew.
As Severus stood there, another Death Eater cast another Crucio, and Bob's scream didn't last very long. The laugh that followed was Dolohov's. "Look at him, he's practically a pretzel."
"You want in, Snape?" Rookwood asked.
Severus met Bob's eye, and he thought he heard, in his mind, the scream for death, a plea for a friend to end it.
" Sectumsempra ," Severus said with as much force as he could, but not as much as he had given his father. The cuts were deep, bleeding heavily, and he could tell that Bob hadn't felt the pain of it, merely the impact. He hoped, really hoped, that he could hear him when Severus screamed with his mind, It's over. It's over, they're safe. They escaped. Everyone's safe, and I'm sorry, so, so sorry.
He must have established a connection, however loose, because there was relief in Bob's eyes, a slight twitch of his head that could have been a nod while his mouth nearly curled into a smile. Then he stopped. Stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped being.
"He was too far gone, anyway," Rookwood said. "But at least we got one of them. Wonder if the others..."
"Two are probably nothing more than ash by now," Severus reasoned, stuffing his grief and pain behind his Occlumency walls as he spoke with a bored sort of smugness.
"Fuck, Snape, you surprise me sometimes. Not one for Unforgivables, but you have a talent, a refinement with charms and curses. Come on, let's see if there's more. Maybe a Muggle bitch out there that hasn't been fucked by too many yet."
Severus watched the others leave, then knelt down by Bob's body and closed his eyes. He took his wedding ring off his finger to give to Delia. He then stepped back, looked around Isobel McGonagall's home, and set it ablaze as well.
As the revel or raid or whatever the bloody hell this monstrosity drew to a close, figures in black the only signs of life in the village, Severus raged. He flicked his wand at more and more houses, ones he was sure were empty, a couple perhaps not so sure, and lit them ablaze.
He then moved to the Dark Lord, seeing the pleasure in the twisted man's eyes, the pride, the glee, before he knelt before him.
"My Lord, I humbly ask to return to my brewing," he said with a bowed head. "I do not believe there are many alive, if at all. Your work, your goal, has most certainly been completed."
"Has it?" the Dark Lord asked, and Severus felt the man tear into his mind. He pushed a memory mash of Delia going for Ollie with the blaze he set in the house. He pulled a memory of her in the same dress she'd worn this eve, carrying Ollie down the stairs and stopping. It was hazy, but he could blame that one on the smoke. And he doubted the Dark Lord knew one of the registered half-bloods was a child. He then showed himself ending Bob's life, and the Dark Lord cackled. "I think you may be right. Return to your brewing, Severus. I am sure you are not the only one with evening plans you long to return to."
"Thank you, my Lord," he said, bowing deeper before rising, taking a few backward steps, and Disapparated.
—————S—————
He Apparated directly to headquarters. He didn't want to, but he knew he had no choice. A report would need to be made, a widow would need to be informed. A sister. A daughter...
He hung his head, his heart aching with what he had to do. Severus slammed his hand against the wall, wishing it would hurt more than a sting, but alas, no more damage could be done. He wanted to run, but Severus Snape was not a coward. He wouldn't call himself brave, and he doubted the sorting hat disagreed, but he was not a coward.
Severus heard a distraught Irish brogue when he entered the cottage, a Scottish one attempting to sooth, and the gentle clatter of dishes from the dining room. With another deep breath, he slowly, quietly closed the door, and headed down the corridor.
Hermione was lingering in the doorframe, gnawing her lower lip while watching the scene. Her eyes shot to him a beat later, and the relief in her eyes changed to tears as she seemed to sense the worst.
He took her hand as he came to the threshold, wishing he could hold on to her for the whole duration.
There was Dumbledore, as expected. Alastor, Black, Kingsley, Minerva, and Delia.
The men noticed him, Black catching on to the fact that the news was bad and bowed his head. Moody shuffled toward Min, and she looked first to the Auror, and then to Severus. "You're back," she said, and Delia whipped around to see him.
"Bob?!" The first desperate question, the only one that mattered to most in the room.
Black made his way to Hermione as Severus closed the distance between himself and Delia. He knelt beside her, withdrawing Bob's wedding ring from his pocket before taking her hand and placing it on her palm.
"I'm so, so sorry," he choked, feeling his tears rise with hers. He looked at Minerva over Delia's shoulder, seeing the elder witch clutch her hand to her mouth as tears spilled. "Your mother escaped. She was not in the house when I arrived, so it is very likely that..."
"And Bob was... Bob was..." Delia sobbed.
"Not when I first got there, but very nea—"
Smack!
The sting of Delia's palm across his cheek was the exact pain he longed for. It came again, much more forcefully, and quicker than he had expected. He shifted his eyes to see Minerva holding Delia's arms back as the grief in her face twisted with rage.
"You were there, were ye? With your Death Eater mates? Did you help them torture him? Did ye enjoy it?"
"No," he said, thankful that she didn't ask if he had dealt the final blow. "No, I swear I caused him no pain."
"We thought you were a good lad. We thought you were good. You gave us Ollie, you were good."
"Cordelia, if he were with them, then why would he be here, lass?" Minerva whispered through her tears, holding Delia more snugly against her as the widow's rage changed to sobs. Alastor held Min's shoulders, gripping her in support. "Severus did what he had to do. He would have saved Bob if he could. An' if he counea, he'da done wha he could to end the pain."
"Severus?" Hermione said, and he turned to see her eyes red with tears, turning out of Black's arms. He went to stand, to hold her, but was stopped.
"What happened to the rest of the village, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, and Severus turned toward his other master, noting that as he did, Hermione returned to Black, and Dumbledore barely refrained from smiling.
"Nearly everyone is dead," he said solemnly. "And if they aren't, I have no doubt they wish they were. Isobel McGonagall probably escaped, in fact I'm quite certain. Robert McGonagall..."
"The Muggles?"
"I don't doubt for a moment Hermione did, in fact, alert the Order, since you lot are here. One would think that Delia's arrival would have tipped you off to where we were. How many lives could have been saved—"
Dumbledore held up a hand. "It would have blown your cover to have gone after you again, I'm afraid."
Severus' nostrils flared.
"But you did well. You played your part perfectly, my boy."
It was then that Severus felt the old man sifting through his mind. He slammed his walls up, as angry with himself for letting them slip, as he was with the old man for taking advantage of his grief, his loss of a father figure, to go rifling through his memories.
"Yes, you are the consummate Death Eater. Keep this up, and no one will doubt your true nature." The headmaster's eyes flickered over Severus' shoulder, and he turned to see Hermione tucked securely next to Black, his arms around her, holding her tight.
If he wasn't entirely sure of his leanings, Severus would assume the worst. He glanced back at Delia. Kingsley was comforting her, Alastor was still holding Min, who was still holding Delia.
Severus was alone.
He nodded. "If that is all?"
"You may go." Dumbledore smiled, and Severus left, Apparating mid-step into the sitting room of his rented cottage.
He collapsed on the floor, his mind racing, reeling. He hadn't enjoyed any of it, any of the evening. So why would anyone believe otherwise? But then, the other Death Eaters believed the show. And how many victims had he accidentally killed by stunning them? By setting ablaze a house that may have had someone hiding inside? How many had he killed other nights without knowing? And it was getting easier, playing this part, being this person. Maybe it had been in him all along? Maybe this was exactly the path he was meant to take, would have always taken?
Time passed, and he remained where he landed. The clock struck midnight, but he'd forgotten when he left. He could have been there minutes or hours, he didn't know.
The Floo flared, but he didn't move.
Her gentle footsteps crossed the rug and stopped in front of him. She knelt and he didn't acknowledge her even as her hand came to rest on his back.
He waited, expecting her to cry, to ask questions, to want the details. She had to have known he was the one who killed him. That he killed her father figure the same way he killed his alcoholic sperm donor. He waited for her demands and accusations.
But none came.
She soothed his back, the odd sniff coming from her, indicating she had had a good cry already, but said nothing.
"I'm turning into a monster," he finally broke the silence.
"No, you aren't."
"I killed him, Hermione," he said, his tone distant. "I killed him tonight. He was so near death, the reaper was practically standing over him, but I'm the one who gave him in Death's hands. I killed Robert, and I probably killed others. So many others, and not just tonight. I am tainted."
"No, you're not," she said more firmly this time, and he looked up into her puffy, red-rimmed eyes.
"I caused you pain, heartache, I never wanted to cause you that. I'm the reason you feel this way."
"You already said he was on Death's door. And if you hadn't done what you did, how long do you think he would have suffered? I know you, Severus, I know your heart. You did what you could as painlessly as possible."
"Still—"
"No, don't ... don't do that. This is war, Severus. And I did alert the Order, and when Min brought Delia to headquarters, Sirius and I were ready to follow, but Albus said no because he had no idea what we were going into, there weren't enough of us, even if we had all goen." She took a deep breath. "Don't think I didn't hear what he said to you. You are not the consummate Death Eater."
"I'm starting to feel that way. With the people we spend most of our time with, the way I can just... enter that persona so easily."
"Then I am the consummate Death Eater's wife. Perfect and poised and supportive of my husband and his beliefs. Really, it's not much different than playing the role of a pureblood, only there's more Occluding than I would have expected."
"You aren't my wife. Not yet," he said, ignoring her attempt at humor.
"I might as well be," she admitted.
"Or you might take this chance and... and find someone better for you. I'm only going to become darker."
"Then I will be your light, we'll balance," she tried again.
"Hermione." He looked at her then, seeing the fear in her eyes. "Let me go."
"Why?"
"Because I can't let you go. I can be strong and pretend to be unaffected by many things, but I can't be unaffected by losing you. I can't give you up, so please..."
"Severus Snape, for an intellectual, you're incredibly stupid," she said, no humor in her voice. "I will not leave you or walk away because some meddling old coot has somehow gotten into your head and made you believe this is for the best. I won't stand for it."
"Hermione, please, see reason."
"I am," she demanded, and quicker than he could have imagined, she snatched his right hand from off the floor and wrapped her hand around it. Taken off-guard by not one, but two witches in one night, Severus was distracted enough for Hermione to conjure a broad, white ribbon to wrap around their joined hands. He stared at the silk material as the last of it wrapped around them, then looked at his fiancé, stunned.
She had determination carved into her cheeks, in the clench of her jaw. Her eyes danced with apprehension, love, and hope.
His heart stuttered in his chest.
"I, Hermione Jean Granger, bind myself, body, soul, and magic, to Severus Tobias Snape. I will share your burden, I will be your strength, I will treat you as an equal in this union."
Severus blinked. "Hermione, you know that if we do this—"
"Oh, shut up and marry me, you git, so you can have one less thing to feel like you don't deserve."
"It's rather permanent."
"Yes, I am aware."
"This isn't pretend."
"Severus, if you don't say your vows, I swear I will hex you bollocks off."
He laughed, unable to not in the face of her adorable fiery temper.
"Fine, if you want to be a dunderhead, who am I to stop you when it benefits me so much? I, Severus Tobias Snape, bind myself to you, Hermione Jean Granger, in body, soul, and magic."
"You said it wrong," she said under her breath.
"I'm not the one who read it in a book and instantly memorized it," he retorted under his breath, making her giggle. He took a breath, trying to be serious. "I will share your burden, I will be your strength, I will treat you as an equal in this union, 'til Death do us part."
"I think that's implied with a magic binding." Hermione arched a brow.
"Just so we're clear, dear. All I need to do is kiss you now, and this is done. You can't escape me. Last chance."
She leaned toward him. "I'll take the risk."
He grinned. Merlin, Nimue, and any other deity of sorts, he would never deserve her. But he didn't care, he was going to be greedy and take this before she changed her mind.
Lips just shy of hers, he said, "And so the binding is made."
At his gentle kiss, he felt a fire whip through him, and yet it was not at all painful. It was blissful, calming, comfortable. It was tea, lavender, ink and parchment, the smell of earth and plant life. It was Hermione, and it was home .
"We're still going to have a wedding? A proper one?" she said against his lips as her fingers dipped into his hair.
"As large as you want," he replied, his mouth caressing hers. "My only regret is that no one will give you away."
"No one would have," she said, a touch of melancholy in her tone as she pulled back only a fraction. "I loved Bob, but like an uncle. I'd have given myself away."
"I'm sorry."
"I know. And so does Delia. In the end, as I was leaving, she sort of... realized that there was nothing more you could do. And Albus, well, he may have remarked that you shouldn't have even gone right to them. That it may have hurt your cover."
"I bet he did."
"Fear not, Min and Alastor were taking care of him when I left."
He nodded, her curls brushing his forehead. "Do you regret this?"
"No, and I never will."
"Not even if we bound ourselves under terrible circumstances?"
"No. This is life-affirming, this is strength. And I think we both need a little of that, a little peace of mind and reassurance that no matter what, no one can keep us apart. I love you, and there is nowhere I would rather be than by your side, regardless of the role you need to play."
"I don't deserve you."
"No, you don't," she teased, kissing him soundly. "But, husband, you can certainly make a good attempt at doing so."
"How so?" he asked, following her lead as she pulled him off the floor.
"Consummation. But before that, sleep."
He smiled gently, cupping her face with both hands and placing a soft kiss on her lips. "As you wish, wife."