Chapter 34: The Supplication
Hermione knew they were there the moment they arrived on the doorstep. The wards on Nott Manor were particularly sensitive, for one thing, and for another, she knew her best friends.
They may not know her anymore, but she certainly knew them.
"What's the matter?" Draco asked quietly, watching her face change as she looked up from her notes. She had been tracking rumors of Voldemort's latest movements, a rather consuming diversion she now employed to occupy the majority of her spare time.
To absolutely no avail, of course - which was only making her slightly unhinged.
She bit her lip. "Harry and Ron are here," she said tentatively, suffering from a wave of immeasurable dread where she was quite sure she should have felt relief.
"Good," Draco breathed, coming to stand beside her. "I've been wondering how they're doing."
She shifted uneasily at that. It appeared that between the two of them, their respective gut reactions were somewhat contradictory.
"I've been keeping an eye on them," she insisted stiffly, but he tossed her a look of undiminished skepticism.
"Scouring articles of the Daily Prophet for news about Harry doesn't count as keeping an eye on them," he said softly. "You know that."
She frowned.
"I don't know what you expect me to do," she replied sourly, suffering from a particularly painful tremor of remorse. "After everything I did - "
"I don't expect you to do anything," he cut in quickly. Too quickly.
"It's your choice," he added, his expression neutral.
They paused, and she fidgeted.
"But?" she asked, looking pointedly at him, scouring his face for whatever he wasn't saying. "Clearly you have some input."
He shrugged innocently. "Nothing of consequence," he said hazily. "Besides. They're here now."
She was tearing at her lower lip with her teeth. "I wonder why."
Draco shrugged again. "Does it matter?" he asked, lifting a carefully arched brow.
"Of course it matters!" she exclaimed, coming to her feet and beginning to pace through the room. "I haven't heard from them in over a month - I have no idea what they're thinking - "
His grey eyes were wide and incredulous as they followed her around the room. "So?"
"So!" She stomped her foot for emphasis. "So, it means I don't know how they're going to react to me!"
There. She'd said it.
Draco pursed his lips indignantly, which was not the reaction she was looking for.
"Hermione," he started, opening his mouth to argue.
"Don't," she warned, resuming her pacing. "I just - I don't think I can see them, you know - not without knowing - "
She trailed off.
"Knowing what?" he asked, his eyes still boring into her from where he watched her frantic motioning. "If they forgive you?"
Yes.
The thought alone stung.
"There's no way they forgive me," she managed hoarsely, starting to chew on the cuticle of her thumb. "There's no way."
He sighed. "Hermione - "
"No," she said frantically, whipping around to face him. "There's no way I can face them - I'm just - " she broke off. "I'm not ready - "
"This is Harry and Ron we're talking about," Draco insisted, walking over to look her in the eye. "How can you doubt them?"
Well. It wasn't really them she was worried about, was it? If she were being honest, she might have managed to admit that she didn't want to see herself through their eyes.
Unfortunately, the more she thought about the prospect of doing so, the more she felt an insurmountable fear pulse through her.
"We have to go," she said abruptly, feeling her heart pound as she increased the speed of her pacing. "We have to leave."
He gaped at her, and from the way he was agitatedly clenching his white-knuckled fists, she guessed he was frustrated yet again by his inability to grasp her by the shoulders and physically force her to confront her apprehension.
"What is this?" Draco demanded, moving to follow her around the room. "Is this fear?"
She shook her head furiously. "It doesn't matter - "
"Yes, it matters," he growled in frustration, his grey eyes narrowed. "Of course it matters."
She huffed impatiently, wishing he would leave it alone. "Don't psychoanalyze me right now, Draco," she snapped, pausing to face him with both hands on her hips.
He blatantly ignored her.
"If you're afraid, you need to just confront this," he admonished her, grimacing. "You need to face them, Granger, and you should do it now."
"I can't," she replied, and she cut him off briskly when his mouth opened again to argue. "I can't!"
He, in turn, looked unspeakably frustrated. "Hermione - "
"I'm leaving," she repeated, cutting him off. Whatever his argument was, she didn't want to hear it. "We're leaving."
"Where?" he asked helplessly, his shoulders limp. "Where are you going to go?"
"I don't know," she retorted angrily. Did it matter? "Just - somewhere." She bent to gather her notes, tossing them onto the bed. "Somewhere that's not in this house."
"Don't run," Draco chided her, his temper rising. "Do not run - "
"I'm not running!" she shouted, letting the scattered handwritten pages fall from her grasp as she fell limply against the bed, burying her face in her hands.
She heard a voice come from behind her in the open doorframe.
"Yes you are," Theo said drily, and Draco jumped, startled.
Great, she thought furiously, dreading another lecture.
"I'm not," she whimpered back, a flagrant lie.
"You are," Theo corrected again, coming over to where she sat on the bed. "Move," he said brusquely, gesturing with his chin.
Draco, for his part, settled himself across the room, watching.
"I'm not ready," she told Theo, the words muffled behind her hands. She purposefully avoided making eye contact with him. "I can't see them yet."
"That's all well and good," Theo replied loftily, and she felt him lean back against his elbows beside her. "But you have to see them sometime, Hermione."
Draco frowned. "It is not well and good," he argued fiercely, but Theo cut him off.
"If not now, then when?" Theo asked pointedly, watching her guarded expression. "If you're not ready now, when will you be ready?"
"I don't know," she said bitterly. And she didn't. "But not now. Not today."
Draco huffed in frustration. "Granger - "
"Don't," she snapped at him, finally looking up, and she caught a flicker of dismay in Theo's eyes before he seemed to put it aside temporarily, shaking his head and turning back to her after glancing at the empty spot where Draco was sitting.
"Look, don't go anywhere," Theo said gently. "If you're not ready today, fucking fine - not today, then." He gave her a pleading glance. "But just don't go anywhere."
Draco, who was clearly displeased with the turn of events from Theo, made a disgruntled noise of impatience.
"He's coddling you," he growled to Hermione, and she glared at him. "Don't listen to Theo. Just go talk to them," he urged her.
She shifted uncomfortably, not enjoying being the subject of his scrutiny.
"Did you let them in?" she asked Theo, knowing the answer.
"Yes," he replied steadily. "They're waiting downstairs."
Draco looked hopeful at that, but she shook her head, avoiding his gaze.
"Talk to them," she implored Theo, swallowing her immediate guilt and looking pleadingly into his green eyes. "I can't. Not now."
"Hermione!" Draco exclaimed, rising to his feet and walking up to her, trying to force her to make eye contact with him. "Hermione, you need them - you need to talk to them - "
"Will you tell them?" she asked Theo, fighting to ignore Draco's sputtered protests. "Just tell them I'm not ready yet." She bit her lip. "Not yet."
"Okay," Theo agreed soothingly, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"Theo!" Draco shouted, looking as though he might pull his own hair out in frustration. "Theo, you fucking arse - "
"Thank you," Hermione breathed gratefully. "Really. Thank you."
He nodded. "If you're not ready, you're not ready."
"Theodore Nott," Draco seethed through his teeth, shaking his head. "You little - "
"What does Draco think about it?" Theo asked wryly, and Hermione wondered for a moment if he was mocking her. There was a momentary lilt to the question that struck her like a sharp jab to her chest.
"He's very upset with you," she replied evenly, finally glancing up to meet the full, punishing blow of Draco's piercing grey eyes.
"I'm going to kill him," Draco corrected her, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers in agitation. "I'm going to come back to life just to slap him."
"Ah, well," Theo said, shrugging. "He never listened to me anyway." He came slowly to his feet. "Much to his detriment, I might add."
At that, Hermione smirked at Draco.
"Granger," Draco said, giving her a look of haughty skepticism. "Do not listen to him. About this or anything else," he added, making a face.
"Mm," Hermione replied, shrugging noncommittally.
Theo walked slowly to exit the room, giving her a lingering look from over his shoulder.
"If you change your mind," he started, and she nodded, preempting the remainder of the statement.
"If I change my mind, I'll come down," she assured him mechanically.
She hadn't even tried to make it convincing, she realized, letting her head loll back with a sigh.
Theo, ever the observer, frowned in disappointment. "You won't, though, will you?"
She shook her head. "Deeply unlikely," she said flatly, and beside Theo, Draco dramatically threw his hands in the air, resigning from his many failed attempts to convince her otherwise.
"Someday," she added for both their benefit, and she meant it. She was pretty sure she meant it. "Just . . . not today."
Theo nodded. "Fair enough," he said, his voice ringing with defeat as he slowly shut the door behind him.
The moment he was gone, Hermione sighed loudly, turning to upend the heavy duvet and then slipping under the covers. Draco, though, remained standing across the room, staring at the door Theo had just exited as though he fervently wished he could blow it down.
"This is all kinds of wrong, Granger," Draco told her firmly, his voice raw with emotion. "You should be there with them."
She didn't want to hear it.
"I only want to be with you," she replied sadly, curling into a ball and hugging herself tightly.
Draco let out a heavy sigh, but by the time he slowly rotated to face her, she could tell he was no longer angry with her. It was fruitless, anyway. Surely he knew that.
He crossed the room and positioned himself next to her on the bed, unabashedly drinking in the features of her face.
"I miss you," he said.
Hermione shut her eyes, too tired to cry.
. . . . . . . .
Theo sauntered into Snape's office, throwing himself dramatically into the chair opposite the excessively large desk with a loud, disruptive clatter.
"Yes?" Snape drawled slowly, not looking up.
"Not very secure around here, Severus," Theo remarked, eyeing his fingernails. "The password is Lily? Really?"
"This may surprise you," Snape began drily, turning the page of the book he was potentially only pretending to read, "but people don't normally seek me out."
"You should have warned me to sit down for that one," Theo said, smirking.
"You are sitting," Snape informed him, lips pursed. "Uninvited, I might add."
"But not unwelcome," Theo said spiritedly, adjusting to sit up straight. "Besides," he said, shrugging. "I'm told I have a tendency to make myself at home."
"Is that by chance a quote from the Ministry of Magic?" Snape asked coolly, leaning back in his chair. At Theo's pointed silence, the corners of the dark professor's mouth twitched into a knowing smirk. "You've been busy," he intoned flatly, and Theo could see a copy of the Rita Skeeter article peeking out on his desk.
"Indeed," Theo agreed, attempting to evoke a more fluid nonchalance than he actually felt. "I hope you haven't been too put off by my extended absence," he added, ever the showman.
"The tears have since stilled," Snape replied in his seasoned monotone.
They eyed each other carefully, a brief stalemate of wit.
"So," Snape pronounced impassively. "Do you plan to tell me why you're here, or must I continue to fall victim to your whimsy?"
"Both," Theo proclaimed loftily, though he sobered a bit at the reminder of the topic at hand. "As it turns out, Severus, I'm rather in need of some guidance."
Snape looked as though he was fighting to contain a vigorous eye roll. "Nott, on the few occasions that you have come to me for assistance, not once have you ever followed my advice," he reminded him. "Why should this be any different?"
"If at first you don't succeed?" Theo offered, raising his shoulders in a juvenile shrug.
Snape glared at him.
"I figure you've taken on the role of my mentor, Severus," Theo added. "Why stop now?"
"Not your best decision, Mr. Nott, using me as a point of reference," Snape commented darkly.
"Not my worst, either," Theo countered.
"No," Snape snorted derisively. "Certainly not."
They considered each other carefully for another minute or so before Theo finally gave in.
"Fine," Theo conceded, sighing. "I'm out of my element and I need help. With Granger," he clarified, waiting for the headmaster's expression to change.
It didn't.
"And?" Snape prompted.
Theo hesitated, letting his mind wander to the conversation he'd had just hours ago as he wondered how to proceed.
"What do you mean she won't see us?" Weasley had demanded, though Potter had looked less than surprised.
"I don't know how to put it in small enough words for you to understand," Theo snapped in response. "I cannot make it any simpler: she's just not ready."
It had been a hard position to argue, of course. Theo didn't exactly consider it to be in her own best interest to segregate herself from the world, and particularly from her friends - but in true Theo Nott fashion, he had resolved to stay quiet a long time ago.
"What's to be ready for?" Weasley had protested, his face nearly as red as his hair. "Are you sure, Nott - "
"I don't have the time or the energy to bother lying to you," Theo had retorted, though he softened a bit at the subsequent dual looks of disappointment.
"Look," Theo had admitted after a moment, "I do think it would be best for her to talk to you, but she can't do it yet." He looked at both of them, hoping for once they would manage to recognize his genuine earnestness. "I'm not going to force her if she's not ready."
Weasley had grumbled a little, but Potter nodded steadily, a gesture that warmed Theo slightly, as both Gryffindors had appeared to have come around in at least some measurable way. They'd proceeded to ask for his assistance in procuring whatever horcrux was previously in the Lestrange vault - which Theo had agreed to, of course, because fucking why not? - but when he saw the disheartened way the two had practically dragged themselves away from his house, still looking around as though they expected Granger to turn the corner any second, Theo had sensed there might be some action required on his part.
He could not, after all, disregard Granger's admission after he'd left her to her thoughts. I only want to be with you, she'd said to nobody, and to no answer.
It had been pretty fucking saddening, to say the least.
The more Theo thought about how far she'd traveled from reality, the more he realized he was in well over his head. Fearing for her sanity - and what was left of her heart, among other things - he had decided to seek counsel elsewhere.
Unfortunately, there was only one person to go to when such things occurred to Theo; the unfortunate bit being, of course, the rather inarguable unpleasantness of said person, particularly where it came to matters that pertained so closely to the heart. Theo was grateful, at least, that the furniture in this iteration of Snape's dwelling was a considerable improvement over the pieces which outfitted the living room of Spinner's End, any and all of which would surely collapse from strain and poor construction sooner rather than later.
Which would have been unpleasant foreshadowing, to say the least.
"She's losing herself," Theo remarked finally, identifying a place to start. "She talks to what she thinks is Draco all the time, and so far, she refuses to see Potter or Weasley."
Snape pursed his lips, thinking. "She has the Resurrection Stone, does she not?" he asked vacantly. "What makes you believe it's only what she thinks is Draco?"
"Well I don't know, do I?" Theo asked, bristling. "I can't see him. And even if he really is there," he added, quite adamant in his defense, "he's still not fucking there." He waved his hands around, attempting to clarify his point by emphasizing the physical state of Draco's being.
"Historically, I have not had much difficulty appealing to Miss Granger's ability to see logic," Snape pointed out.
It was an unusual defense, Theo noted with surprise, but he shook his head, still not quite managing to convey his point.
"That's the thing," Theo said bitterly, flailing as he tried to explain himself. "She's still, I don't know - functioning, I guess - "
"She is Minister for Magic," Snape said pointedly, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against the desk.
"Yes, I mean, she's fine, technically," Theo conceded, bowing his head. "But she's also a fucking mess."
"This coming from someone who once took the Dark Mark to chase a ghost," Snape countered, his eyes wide and mocking.
"Yes, fine, I'm an idiot," Theo snapped in retort, waving his hands around wildly as he spoke. "Still. I need help." He looked imploringly at Snape. "Please," he added hopefully, wondering how many times in one day he would have to beg people to see his sincerity.
Snape considered him carefully. "Who are you concerned for?" he asked, cocking his head curiously. "Miss Granger?"
"Yes, her," Theo said, nodding. "Among other people."
Snape gave him a look. And?
"I'm concerned for everyone!" Theo erupted, leaning forward. "She isn't exactly stable, and she has more power than a person in that position should," he said, frustrated. "She spends most of her time alone, usually trying to figure out how she can find the Dark Lord so she can fucking - I don't know," he said, pausing, "tear him to shreds or something - and even if she hasn't done anything too terrible yet - "
"'Too terrible' remaining in the eye of the beholder," Snape remarked.
" - the fact that she refused to see Potter and Weasley has not been reassuring," Theo finished. "Look, I fucking know what it's like to not want the life you have anymore," he added quietly, looking at his hands. "I know what happens when you get reckless with your own life."
There was a brief pause as Snape's expression softened.
"You certainly do," Snape agreed, his tone more gentle than Theo would have predicted.
The younger wizard sighed helplessly in response. "If the only person she wants to be around is the ghost of Draco, I don't know what's going to happen to her," Theo said grimly. "She's - unpredictable." He shook his head. "I have to do something to fix it."
"And if you can't?" Snape posed.
"Not an option," Theo muttered, looking up to meet Snape's eyes.
Snape, in turn, nodded slowly, considering him.
"She trusts you, does she not?" he asked.
"To some extent," Theo admitted. He was, after all, perhaps the last person on earth that Granger willingly indulged. "But she's just going to slowly drive herself mad this way - it's all just chipping away at her soul, and I'm - "
He swallowed.
"Grown to care for her, then, have you?" Snape supplied obnoxiously.
Fucking Severus Snape. As if Theo didn't already feel weak enough at being forced to reveal his better nature.
"Granger's the only family I have," Theo muttered back. "She's all I have, and I'm . . . afraid for her."
Saying it out loud was surprisingly cathartic. I'm fucking afraid for her.
"Just help me save her," Theo finally begged, leaning forward and abandoning his signature mask of bravado. "Just help me."
Snape considered him through hooded eyes.
"I would like to help you, Theo," he said slowly.
Theo hung his head. "But," he muttered, glancing up expectantly.
"I don't know if I can," Snape concluded, and he seemed genuinely regretful. "Who you become when you lose a love can be - "
He trailed off, shaking his head. "The effects can be quite diminishing," he managed after a moment.
Theo stirred, protesting. "But - "
"I'm not saying there's nothing you can do," Snape amended sharply. "I would certainly not suggest that the situation is hopeless. However," he said, and the word had a devastating ring as it hung in the acoustics of the room, "I'm not sure there's anything available to either of us as things are now."
"So, you're saying I do nothing?" Theo interpreted dully. "That's . . . it?"
"Be a friend to her," Snape advised. "Perhaps not a silent friend, as she might need guidance - but a friend nonetheless."
"And just fucking cross my fingers that things turn out well?" Theo mocked, disgusted by the utter absurdity of the thought.
Snape's dark eyes glimmered sadly. "In essence."
"Well," Theo proclaimed loudly, coming to his feet. "I can't say this has been a pleasure, Severus, as I find myself rather unsatisfied."
Supremely unsatisfied.
"I will wait to weep," Snape intoned flatly.
Theo thought to respond, but by the time he opened his mouth, Snape had returned his attention to the books that littered his desk. Theo could tell the conversation was over, and that he'd gotten as much as he was ever going to, at least for the time being.
Theo backed out of the room slowly, wondering what the future would look like. From where he currently stood, it was bleak to say the least; he snuck another glance at Snape, but the man had not looked up, his eyes continuously scanning the pages before him even after Theo slipped out the door. Theo, then, left the headmaster's office a little heavier, downtrodden from bearing the weight of a new and resounding hopelessness, the depths of which he could not fathom.
Draco gone. Narcissa gone. Granger half gone, by the looks of it.
For someone who was still standing, Theo could barely manage to breathe.
. . . . . . . .
As soon as Theo had left the office, Severus turned pointedly to the portrait behind him.
"You were conspicuously silent," he commented.
Albus offered him an airy shrug. "I was visiting Armando," he said in explanation, gesturing with his chin at one of the other portraits that lined the walls. "Surely you did not want to be interrupted," he added, a devilish glimmer appearing in his eyes.
Severus did not buy this for a second.
"The Granger girl is falling apart and yet you have nothing to contribute?" he countered, irritated with the false coyness. "Albus. Please."
"I thought your advice to Mr. Nott was quite lovely, Severus," Albus replied demurely. "Though," he said heartily, and at that, Severus fought an internal groan. "Now that you ask, of course - "
"Out with it," Severus snapped, glaring at the portrait of the man who had been his mentor.
Albus's blue eyes continued to twinkle mischievously.
"There is, perhaps, something at your disposal," Albus suggested, evasive as ever. "If you don't mind fetching it," he added.
Severus could only manage a rather juvenile sigh of consummate exhaustion. "Yes?" he prompted, awaiting what would surely be extremely hazy instruction.
"Third drawer," Albus replied, pointing. "On the right."
An actual item? Not a metaphor?
Severus blinked. "Oh," he replied vacuously, pulling open the drawer and squinting into the cavernous space. "What am I looking for, exactly, oh wise one?" he asked, his voice carrying as he poised himself to descend the narrow ladder that was propped against the lip of the drawer.
"You'll see it," Albus said, and Severus cursed internally as he slowly made his way down each rung.
"Lumos," he said, looking around at the area inside the drawer, which consisted largely of polished shelves that gleamed against a rocky, mountainous interior. There were a variety of books, a number of odd items, most of which were innocuous and - frankly - uninteresting; but as Severus squinted at a small item in a crimson pouch, he realized his name was written delicately alongside it, the familiar handwriting glittering in the dimness of the drawer.
The small pouch was exceedingly light and he picked it up quickly, remounting the ladder and emerging into the now startling brightness of his office.
"This?" Severus asked wryly, setting the small item on the desk as he shook loose dust from his robes and resumed his seat.
"Ah, you found it," Albus proclaimed merrily. "Excellent work, Severus."
"Thrilled my talents are being put to such productive use," Severus muttered back, unfastening the ties of the pouch and letting the small item slither out onto the wooden surface of the desk.
The metallic object was silver, hanging on a rather ornate chain and bearing the same distinct markings that had existed on the deluminator that Albus had willed to the Weasley boy. They were markings, of course, that would only be known to a trained eye, but Severus had one such eye; he could tell immediately that it was an object of Dumbledore's own invention - or at least, the man's own particular brand of tinkering.
Of course, there were only so many ways to disguise a magical item of this significance, and in this case, Albus had scarcely tried. Severus found himself disheartened at the immediate - and, frankly, quite unsettling - knowledge of what, exactly, he now held in his hand.
"Albus," he said stiffly, turning back to the portrait. "Exactly how many times have I uncovered this particular item?"
For there was no mistaking it. Severus Snape was currently grasping tightly within his fingers what was undoubtedly, in some form or another, a time turner.
A fucking time turner, Severus swore internally, unrepentantly channeling his inner Theo Nott and struggling to fight the rising color in his cheeks.
"Well?" he demanded, looking up into the blue eyes that were always so staggeringly omniscient. He had never much appreciated the reminder that in Albus Dumbledore's hands, even the brightest were pawns.
"I think you'll find it's already set to where you need it," Albus replied casually, sidestepping the question in a way only he could manage.
Severus, in turn, glared at him. "But - "
"See you soon," Albus interrupted jovially, and Severus sighed.
Fucking Albus Dumbledore.
. . . . . . . .
a/n: Dedicated to Relent1ess; your review was incredibly moving and I was honestly so affected by it. I can only hope you continue to find meaning in the story. And to turbulenthandholding - it has been all kinds of fun watching you catch up with Marked.
My fluff well's been a bit dry the last few days but I'm hoping to post in Amortentia shortly. Otherwise, some fun things on tumblr: DrSallySparrow and I are currently writing epically bromantic letters to each other while in character as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, respectively. The posts are titled Epistles and I highly recommend them (and her, for she possesses wit for miles). Her new WIP Gin n Tonic fic (Ginny x Tom Riddle) is fantastic and imaginative - so go read How Do You Solve a Problem Like Ginevra and thank me later.