Sweet Mercy - Chapter Ten
Summary: Auror Hermione Granger is investigating strange occurrences in the north of Scotland. Her search leads her to the one man she can't trust and the one man she can't solve the case without.
Characters:HG/SS
Warnings: Not beta read
Rating: R
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
I think we may safely trust a good deal more than we do.
Henry David Thoreau
In his cold cave, he let out a shout of frustration. “You have failed me yet again!”
Fear twisted the normally lovely features of his servant. “My lord, I have done everything you asked. We’ve tried taking him by force. We’ve tried tricking him into capture. And now this…” she stammered, trying to make her case, but he would not hear it.
“Yes, now this. And it has done nothing but drain me further!”
“Give it time, my lord,” she argued desperately. “He won’t be used to seeing it, not after such a long interlude.”
“He never was very faithful.”
“Not like me. I’ve never given up hope, my lord. I will do everything in my power to see you back again,” she said, venturing closer and bowing by his side. He let his hand rest on her head.
“You are the most favored,” he said in a serious tone. For now, he thought.
“Thank you, my lord. I will not fail you.”
“See that you don’t.”
****
Severus woke up the next morning to find a very naked Hermione pressed against him with her head tucked under his chin and her hand on his chest, a sight that might have made him a very happy man except for the piercing pain in his arm. He realized he clutched her hand tightly in his, releasing it suddenly in fear that he might be hurting her.
She sighed and rolled away from him, still asleep to his relief. He didn’t want to watch her wake with the inevitable falling of her face as she remembered the disappointment from the night before.
Very carefully, he slipped out of the bed, shrugged into his dressing gown, and padded out to the kitchen. The pain in his arm fogged his vision as he rustled through his potions bottles. His trembling fingers knocked over a neighboring vial, sending it crashing to the ground where it shattered into a hundred pieces.
Severus cursed, but left it on the floor, downing the bottle he had come for with a sense of urgency. A murky haze descended as the liquid traveled through his veins. It dulled the pain only slightly but his brain told him it no longer mattered, nothing did really.
Making his way to the couch, he sat in a drugged stupor and contemplated the situation. It was not good. There was only one person who had the power to activate his Dark Mark and he died years ago.
Or had he? If anyone could evade death then it was Tom Riddle. But how had he managed it again? And how had he come back? The questions swirled around in his brain with no answers in sight. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t stay here. His arm hurt like hell and putting some distance between him and whatever had activated it could only help.
Hermione came out of the bedroom while he sat listing places he wouldn’t mind escaping to. She carried a bag that looked vaguely familiar in her free hand, her cane clicking on the hardwood floor.
“What are you doing?” he asked. He recognized the valise in her hand as one that he kept shoved under the bed. Three more bags floated behind her.
“I packed your stuff. You just need to grab the potions ingredients you can’t live without, we can eat, and then be on our way.”
“On our way where exactly?” he demanded.
She furrowed her brow. “My flat in London. This is beyond what we can do alone. We need reinforcements.”
“We,” he said with emphasis, “do not need anything. You need reinforcements. All that I require is a Pain Relieving Potion and maybe a bottle of firewhisky.” And a portkey to Australia, he thought. London wasn’t nearly far enough away for his tastes.
“You can’t stay here,” she argued, dropping the bag and approaching him on the couch. The bags behind her fell to the floor with a clatter.
“I have stayed here for years. I don’t see what the difference is now,” he said, trying to hide his wince as another shot of pain pierced up through his forearm. His potion was starting to wear off, not that it had been that effective to begin with. Added to that was the fact that he didn't like the idea of Hermione Granger seeing him weak and vulnerable like this, which only made him even grumpier, especially after last night's embarrassment.
“How’s your arm?” she asked. She didn’t bother waiting for his answer, but grabbed his sleeve and pulled it closer.
“No!” he said, yanking it back. He didn’t want her looking at it. He tried not to look at it himself. It was an ugly reminder of who and what he had been.
“Does it still hurt?” She moved her hand away but she looked at him full of concern and pity. She hadn’t looked at him like that last night. Last night her eyes had shone with desire. Now they were dull with disappointment. He was not to be her hero, but a bag of stones round her neck dragging her down.
“It’s fine,” he ground out. It was a lie. It still burned, from his forearm up his shoulder and radiating out through his chest.
“You’re lying.”
“Don’t call me a liar,” he snapped.
“I don’t see why not,” she responded with a brittle laugh. “You’ve been one since the day I first met you. Now I’m going in here and making breakfast and then we are Apparating to London and I won’t take no for an answer.”
She hobbled off to the kitchen while Severus sat brooding, watching as eggs flew from the icebox to the skillet. The irritating little swot! How dare she talk to him like that?
Last night had been a mistake, he decided. Kissing her had been a mistake. Miss Granger was quite possibly the most irritating human being he had ever encountered and there was no way in hell he would be accompanying her to London.
****
Snape hadn’t protested nearly as much as Hermione had envisioned while she packed up some of his potion bottles to leave, just a little whinging and then just some scowling while she made breakfast. She had expected at the very least some hexes thrown her way. His arm must hurt more than she imagined. The best thing they could do was to get out of this place and recruit help before whoever or whatever it was that had triggered Snape’s Dark Mark gained even more strength.
She tried not to stare at his pinched face and hunched shoulders while the eggs for their breakfast cooked. Last night had been about revelations. Now she knew what had happened to Harry. And she knew how much Snape had suffered.
She could only hope that their current distraction would make him forget any embarrassing advances she had made, especially as it was obvious to her now that they were unwanted.
After breakfast, she hurried the two of them outside where after a swig of Strengthening Potion she Apparated them back to her flat. A stale smell greeted them, and she noticed that Snape turned a slight shade of green. Quickly, she Banished her forgotten trash bins outside to the curb, and looked around for a can of air freshener.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized, spraying all around them in the small kitchen and living room. Small drops of overly sweet smelling mist wetted her already frizzy hair. He shook his head without a word and wrinkled his nose at the potpourri scent.
“Where’s the bed?” he snarled. Hermione pointed him down the hallway towards her small bedroom. She opened the suitcases and gathered up the Pain Relieving Potions he might need and followed him down the corridor.
“These are right here for when you need them,” she said, placing the vials on the bedside table. Once she had him settled in then she planned on going directly to the Ministry for additional Aurors to take back north with her. “Do you need anything else?”
“No.” His answer was curt. He lay down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. She leaned over and pulled up.
“Are you sure? I’m going out.”
“Somehow I managed in the thirty years before you came along,” he answered. Hermione almost didn’t catch his reply as she hurried from the room.
Twenty minutes later and she was at the Ministry. She hurried through the main arboretum as fast as she could with her cane clicking beside her.
“Hermione!” she heard Abby cry. “I haven’t seen you around in awhile. Where have you been?”
“No time to talk now,” Hermione said quickly, barely taking the time to make eye contact. She slid into the lift just as the door closed, leaving her friend outside with a disappointed look on her face. Hermione didn’t think about it, but focused on what she would say to Eckhert. Getting off the lift, she made her way to his office.
“He can’t see you now,” the secretary said, without even looking up from her nails.
“This is of the utmost importance,” Hermione insisted. At hearing her voice, the secretary glanced up and an evil smirk spread across her face like a Cheshire cat.
“Then by all means, go on in. I would hate to delay something important.” Somehow Hermione got the impression that she meant quite the opposite, but she didn’t care so long as she got what she came here to get. Without a moment’s hesitation, she strode into Eckhert’s office.
He sat at his desk, twirling his thick mustache with his beefy fingers and staring at several documents spread across his desk. “Ethel, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Who did you say these were from again?” he said. Looking up, he realized Hermione was not Ethel. He turned bright red and jumped to his feet.
“Granger!” he yelled. “Where the hell have you been?”
“On suspension, sir,” she answered.
“Right, you’ve been suspended. Which is why I’m puzzled about why I’m receiving Dark Spell incident reports from the field with your signature on them. Only your signature, I might add,” he said.
Hermione cringed. She thought for sure she had destroyed the document, but then remembered they were Indestructible just in case an Auror met with a Dark wizard and didn’t have time to submit it properly.
“That’s what I’m here about actually. Did you read the report, sir? It clearly shows that there is a growing presence in the north hills of Scotland, especially in that area, if we had more Aurors I think we could-“
“Enough!” Eckhert said loudly, cutting Hermione off. “I’m not sending more Aurors to an area of the country I expressly forbade you from returning to.”
“But sir, an elderly man has gone missing and a little girl was slaughtered. Surely that is enough to warrant-“
“It’s the business of the Muggle authorities to look into, not witches and wizards. We have enough to keep us busy without having to worry about their criminals too. We lost Mulciber’s lead because you weren’t here to help with the investigation.”
Hermione restrained herself from reminding him that she hadn’t been here because he had suspended her, but only because she didn’t think it would help. “But if a new Dark Lord is trying to establish himself then-“
“There is no evidence of that!” Eckhert exclaimed, growing red in the face.
“Only because you won’t let me collect any,” Hermione retorted.
“Don’t be impertinent, Granger!”
“But sir-“
“Get out of my office. I don’t want to see you here for another two weeks, do you understand.”
“But-“
“NOW!” he yelled. He threw himself back in his chair and spun around so that he faced the wall. It was obvious that this conversation was over. Hermione stormed from the room.
There was no talking to that man! What did it take to get his attention? She pretended not to know the answer but deep in her heart she knew. It would take a witch or wizard dying before he faced the truth. She liked to tell herself that attitudes toward Muggles had changed since Harry had defeated Voldemort, but it was an illusion.
“Auror Granger!” the secretary called after her as she walked by. Hermione turned and looked at her. She looked positively smug and Hermione wondered just how much, if not all, of the conversation she had overheard.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to remind you that your yearly medical exam is overdue and you know that without it, well, you could be suspended,” at this she raised her eyebrows, “or even terminated.”
“But I had my exam two months ago!” Hermione exclaimed. She had it a month early in fact.
“Oh, you did?” the secretary said, her sincerity obviously affected. “I must have lost the paperwork. I would suggest getting that done very soon. Here’s the form.” She handed Hermione a purple piece of paper with a large smile, then turned back to her typewriter with a giggle.
Hermione stormed from the office, shoving the paper into her pocket with little thought. That stupid exam was the last thing she needed at the moment. And that bloody cow hadn’t lost her paperwork, she had probably misplaced it on purpose!
But she had other things to think about. Such as who she could go to next, to get the help she needed. And then it occurred to her. Percy Weasley.
****
Snape's mood had not improved despite more potions and a nap, though his arm was starting to feel better. He no longer grimaced in pain at every small movement, for example.
But though he felt marginally better, he wasn’t exactly sure what Granger expected him to do while she gallivanted around on the town, now that she had him here. Her combination of food and strident tones that promised only to stop when he got to London were enough to convince that he should accompany her at least this far.
He poked around the kitchen and made himself lunch, and then sat down to investigate her expansive library. Even if she could convince the Ministry to put more Aurors on the case, they still had to find the bastard. And if they knew what he wanted, then they could better predict his moves. The hidden laboratory in the woods made him suspect that it was a potion.
But what potion required a missing old man, a dead girl, and a mutilated cow? Severus wasn’t even sure they were related. Hermione hadn’t performed her Detection spell where the Muggle police had found Emily. And the cow looked horrible, but it wasn’t beyond a Muggle to do the same damage. Even so, he flipped through every book she owned, just to see what he could find.
****
Hermione headed to the Minister of Magic’s office. She hated to go over Eckhert’s head like this. She hated even more that she would have to talk to Percy, but there were more important things to be considered.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked. Unlike Eckhert’s secretary, this woman actually looked like she might be working. Letters folded themselves into enveloped behind while the keys of her typewriter clicked away in the corner. She arranged a tray of tea and biscuits artfully, preparing to take them in.
“Oh, I’ll do that,” Hermione said, taking the tray from her. “We’re old school mates. I’ve just stopped in to say hullo,” she reassured the woman, “if that’s okay.”
“I suppose so. I do have a lot going on out here,” she said, glancing at the typewriter. The charm on the keys needed fixed, Hermione noticed. They kept typing Percy Weasel, Minister of Mugic.
“I’m sure he would rather you fix that than bring him biscuits,” Hermione said. The receptionist nodded her head violently in agreement. With that settled, Hermione took the tray and opened the door to the Minister’s office.
“Just put them there,” he said hurriedly, not bothering to look up.
“Anything else?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t what he expected, and he looked up to find her smiling at him. “Hi, Percy.”
“Hermione!” he exclaimed, standing up. “What an honor. It’s sad to think we work in the same building and never see each other.”
She didn’t mention that she saw him everyday in the hallway since she started at the Ministry, but he hadn’t once waved hello and she had stopped trying after the third week. It would be rude and counterproductive.
“Even sadder to think I’m only here for a favor,” she said with a chuckle instead.
“A favor?” He motioned for her to sit, offering her a biscuit while she did. She declined, jumping right to her plea.
“I know you’re an important and busy man, so I’ll get right to the point,” she started. And then she told him everything. Everything minus Snape that was. For his part, he sat and listened. When she finished, he sat forward in his chair, his fingers steepled and his elbows resting on his desk.
“I’m afraid Eckhert is right, Hermione. You have very little proof to go on. If you had another witness to your Detection spell, maybe, but…”
Hermione didn’t waste a moment to think about the consequences of her next actions, she just reacted. “Snape saw it,” she said. “And his Dark Mark. It’s growing blacker. I’ve seen it,” she confessed.
“Snape!” Percy said with a gasp. “You’ve found Snape?”
“Yes, he lives in the area and he’s been very helpful with gathering evidence-“
“He’s a wanted criminal and you didn’t bring him in. Hermione, that’s a crime in itself. I really shouldn’t be discussing-“
“He was acquitted, Percy,” she argued.
“Only because our star witness conveniently disappeared. Did you know he’s wanted for questioning in Harry’s disappearance?”
“I’ve asked him about that.” This was not going the way she wanted, not at all.
“And?” Percy prompted.
“And it has nothing to do with a little girl dying!”
“Hermione, you have a known killer in your reach and you did nothing. Does Eckhert know about this? If I were him, I would fire you this instant. Actually-“ He reached for a large tome on the edge of his book entitled An Overly Self Inflated Guide to Being Minister of Magic. “I might just have the power to do so myself.”
“Percy!”
“Hermione, he is Dumbledore’s killer. He killed countless others. He followed L-lord, well, You-Know-Who. This isn’t one of your school adventures. Has he cursed you? Or maybe poisoned you somehow? I can’t believe you would do something like this on your own.”
It was obvious to Hermione that Percy would be no help. In the past, she might have tried talking her way of the situation, but her time with Snape had convinced her there were better methods.
She pointed her wand at the Minister of Magic and said in a clear voice, “Obliviate.”
His eyes went blank and after a moment, he shook his head and looked at her as though she had just entered the room. “Hermione, how nice to see you. It’s sad to think we work in the same building and never see each other.”
“It is, isn’t it,” she said sweetly.
“Unfortunately, I am an important man and have lots to do, so you’ll have to be quick,” he said. Hermione restrained herself from declaring just what a prat he was.
“I just stopped by to say hello and to tell you I saw your mother in Diagon Alley the other day. She wasn’t looking very well. You should really call on her.”
“Oh, right. Yes, well, I’ll do that,” he said, thumbing through some papers. She didn’t know if he had even registered what it was that she had said. But if he did at least Molly would be happy to have a visit from her son.
“Have a nice day, Percy.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hermione decided it was time to make a visit to St. Mungo’s.
****
The Healers who conducted the Aurors’ yearly examinations were on the third floor. But Hermione headed down a narrow and rickety staircase that led to the second basement to a door with a crooked sign that read “Neville Longbottom.” She knocked and after a hearing a mumbled “Come in,” entered.
“Hermione!” Neville said from his desk. Despite the dark and dank hallway outside, inside his office there were windows with sunlight streaming in. Plants of every variety lined the walls and cluttered the floor.
“Neville, how is everything? Still growing medicinal plants, I see,” she said with a genuine smile.
“I’m good,” he said with a smile, “as long as I don’t have to brew the potions myself. And how are you?”
She almost uttered a rote response, but things were not good or even fine. Things were very bad, and she told him that bluntly. She could always count on Neville to be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked when she finished explaining about the scary events in the north.
“The Ministry is determined to ignore the signs, but if we could gather together former members of the Order of the Phoenix, then we could stop this person before they gained power like Voldemort did. I already have one person ready to help,” she said, purposely not naming that particular person. She imagined Neville would react in much the same way that Percy had to news that she had found Snape.
“I don’t know,” Neville said. “Most people are gone. Ron is Egypt and his brothers are spread out everywhere. Fred and George moved their store to America. I’ve heard they’re richer than goblins these days. Lupin isn’t strong enough these days what with his illness and…well we were lucky to survive the first time round, weren’t we?”
Hermione nodded. Most of the Order had made the ultimate sacrifice to the cause. Remembering them reminded her how important it was to stop this Dark witch or wizard now while they could.
“Who’s the other person? Most of the Order isn’t around these days. Was it Luna? I had lunch with her today and she didn’t mention anything. Or maybe Arthur? But then you would have said two people because I really can't see Arthur doing anything without Molly by his side. So?”
Hermione cringed. She tried in vain to think of something, anything to say that wouldn’t make him suspicious and wasn’t outright lying. “I’d rather not say right now.”
Neville frowned at her. “Hermione, who is it?” he pressed.
“Snape,” she whispered.
His mouth fell open. “Who?”
“He’s saved my life, Neville. I was attacked in the woods, and he found me, and carried me back to his shack in the forest, and nursed me back to health, and he’s been helping me investigate this case until last night when his Dark Mark burned black and we just knew that this was too big for just the two of us. We need help, your help, anyone and everyone’s help so that this doesn’t turn into the nightmare we have already lived through once, a nightmare he has lived through twice,” Hermione said so quickly it left her gasping for breath, but she didn’t want to take the chance that he wouldn’t let her finish.
“A nightmare he helped create,” Neville said, his voice suddenly cold. “I can’t believe you would stand there and ask me to help him. After what he and his school pals did to my parents. I-I-you need to leave.” His face turned red and his voice wavered, and Hermione knew he was right.
She turned and walked toward the door. Pausing as she went through, she turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Neville. I truly am, but I have to do something.”
“Not with him, you don’t,” he replied.
“He’s the only one who will,” she said. And then she left.
****
Utterly discouraged, she rummaged through her pockets for the crumpled form and headed upstairs. If anything, she would accomplish this today.
Three hours later, she emerged from the examination room, more frustrated and angry than before. The Healers had poked, prodded, and shoved their wands in places they were never meant to go. All she wanted was a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate. Or sod the tea and give her some wine. She’d almost forgotten that she had left Snape back at her flat, but quickly remembered.
“Where have you been?” he demanded the moment she stepped through the Floo. He had taken off his robe, leaving him in a pair of trousers and a soft gray jumper rolled up at the sleeves. He almost looked like an average Muggle except that he paced the living room like a caged animal. Books and papers were strewn everywhere from the kitchen table to the living room floor. It looked like her bookshelf had exploded while she had been gone. She wondered what he had been doing all this time other than obviously trashing the place.
“St. Mungo’s,” she said, her irritation at his cold welcome home bleeding through her tone.
“What’s wrong with you?” If there was any concern in his harsh tone, Hermione didn’t bother looking for it.
“Many things according to the two twits who just poked and prodded me for three hours,” she spat. She took off her cloak and gently lowered herself into the nearest armchair. Her body ached all over, her left eye had a throbbing pain behind it, and her throat was parched.
“Of course there are things wrong with you,” Snape said sharply, sitting down in the chair across from her. “Or did you forget the curse that nearly killed you?”
“I didn’t forget,” she spat. “It’s just that no one believes me. If that’s true, Auror Granger,” she said in a high pitched tone that in no way resembled the Healer’s voice but represented it nonetheless, “why were you never admitted to St. Mungo’s? We have no record of any such curse.”
“You would have died if I had taken you to those idiots,” Snape said.
“But at least I would still have my job!” Hermione retorted, her voice rising slightly in volume. She felt all the frustration in her bubbling up and out and the only available target happened to be Snape.
“No you wouldn’t. You would be dead.”
“They asked me where I did go,” she said, knowing it would anger Snape. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt he deserved to be just as angry and irritated as she was. It was his fault she was in this mess, wasn’t it? She certainly would have help if it weren’t for him. Just as she predicted, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.
“And what did you tell them?” His voice was low and dangerous.
“What could I tell them? Yes, I know you don’t believe I was hit with a deadly unnamed curse that no one has never seen, but lucky for me a former Death Eater, murderer, and fugitive found me, took me back to his shack and healed me.”
“And I suppose I should have just left you there?”
“Yes! I didn’t ask for your help,” she said. It was irrational and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Being unconscious and freezing to death in the snow makes asking a little difficult,” he snapped.
“How do I know I was even hit with a mysterious curse? How do I know it wasn’t you that hexed me? All I know is that one minute I’m walking through the woods and then the next I’m waking up in your bedroom and you’re feeding me some story!” She stood up and glared at him. Her breaths came in little gasps the angrier she got.
“You think I made it all up?” he asked incredulously. “Some ploy to get women, I suppose. Curse them while their backs are turned and then drag them back to my budoir?”
“Makes perfect sense to me!”
His face contorted in anger. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together to form a thin line. Hermione could tell that he was holding himself back. “You’re not making any sense at all. I suggest you go to bed before you say something unwise.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!”
“I will when you stop acting like one,” he spat. He stood up and advanced on her, trying to use his height to intimidate her. She took a step back.
“I am NOT acting like a child. I am a MATURE WOMAN asking serious questions about what happened to me in that forest! SOMETHING is going on up there and NO ONE but me seems to give a damn. And why is your Dark Mark turning black? What do you know, Snape? What aren’t you telling me?” She was screaming by now. Snape flicked his wand, some spell to keep the neighbors from overhearing no doubt, but it only angered her more.
“I know just as much as you do,” he hissed, coming closer. He had her backed up against a wall and like a caged animal she lashed out.
“And why should I trust you?” she asked, pushing him away from her.
He caught her by the wrists, his long tapered fingers digging into her skin. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. All I had to do was leave you there in the snow to die.”
“Let go of me, you bastard, you murderer!” she said, twisting out of his grip. He let her go and she turned away from him, unable to look him in the eye after saying such horrible things, even if they were true.
“You should leave,” she said, her voice softer now as she recovered her breath.
“You invited me here. Insisted that I come. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, if I recall.”
“Now,” she insisted. She heard a huff, then the rustle of his robes. A few minutes later, she heard the click of the door and she knew he was gone. Wondering if he would ever return and what she would do without him, she sank to the floor and cried.
Go to the next chapter
Characters:HG/SS
Warnings: Not beta read
Rating: R
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
I think we may safely trust a good deal more than we do.
Henry David Thoreau
In his cold cave, he let out a shout of frustration. “You have failed me yet again!”
Fear twisted the normally lovely features of his servant. “My lord, I have done everything you asked. We’ve tried taking him by force. We’ve tried tricking him into capture. And now this…” she stammered, trying to make her case, but he would not hear it.
“Yes, now this. And it has done nothing but drain me further!”
“Give it time, my lord,” she argued desperately. “He won’t be used to seeing it, not after such a long interlude.”
“He never was very faithful.”
“Not like me. I’ve never given up hope, my lord. I will do everything in my power to see you back again,” she said, venturing closer and bowing by his side. He let his hand rest on her head.
“You are the most favored,” he said in a serious tone. For now, he thought.
“Thank you, my lord. I will not fail you.”
“See that you don’t.”
****
Severus woke up the next morning to find a very naked Hermione pressed against him with her head tucked under his chin and her hand on his chest, a sight that might have made him a very happy man except for the piercing pain in his arm. He realized he clutched her hand tightly in his, releasing it suddenly in fear that he might be hurting her.
She sighed and rolled away from him, still asleep to his relief. He didn’t want to watch her wake with the inevitable falling of her face as she remembered the disappointment from the night before.
Very carefully, he slipped out of the bed, shrugged into his dressing gown, and padded out to the kitchen. The pain in his arm fogged his vision as he rustled through his potions bottles. His trembling fingers knocked over a neighboring vial, sending it crashing to the ground where it shattered into a hundred pieces.
Severus cursed, but left it on the floor, downing the bottle he had come for with a sense of urgency. A murky haze descended as the liquid traveled through his veins. It dulled the pain only slightly but his brain told him it no longer mattered, nothing did really.
Making his way to the couch, he sat in a drugged stupor and contemplated the situation. It was not good. There was only one person who had the power to activate his Dark Mark and he died years ago.
Or had he? If anyone could evade death then it was Tom Riddle. But how had he managed it again? And how had he come back? The questions swirled around in his brain with no answers in sight. One thing was for sure, he couldn’t stay here. His arm hurt like hell and putting some distance between him and whatever had activated it could only help.
Hermione came out of the bedroom while he sat listing places he wouldn’t mind escaping to. She carried a bag that looked vaguely familiar in her free hand, her cane clicking on the hardwood floor.
“What are you doing?” he asked. He recognized the valise in her hand as one that he kept shoved under the bed. Three more bags floated behind her.
“I packed your stuff. You just need to grab the potions ingredients you can’t live without, we can eat, and then be on our way.”
“On our way where exactly?” he demanded.
She furrowed her brow. “My flat in London. This is beyond what we can do alone. We need reinforcements.”
“We,” he said with emphasis, “do not need anything. You need reinforcements. All that I require is a Pain Relieving Potion and maybe a bottle of firewhisky.” And a portkey to Australia, he thought. London wasn’t nearly far enough away for his tastes.
“You can’t stay here,” she argued, dropping the bag and approaching him on the couch. The bags behind her fell to the floor with a clatter.
“I have stayed here for years. I don’t see what the difference is now,” he said, trying to hide his wince as another shot of pain pierced up through his forearm. His potion was starting to wear off, not that it had been that effective to begin with. Added to that was the fact that he didn't like the idea of Hermione Granger seeing him weak and vulnerable like this, which only made him even grumpier, especially after last night's embarrassment.
“How’s your arm?” she asked. She didn’t bother waiting for his answer, but grabbed his sleeve and pulled it closer.
“No!” he said, yanking it back. He didn’t want her looking at it. He tried not to look at it himself. It was an ugly reminder of who and what he had been.
“Does it still hurt?” She moved her hand away but she looked at him full of concern and pity. She hadn’t looked at him like that last night. Last night her eyes had shone with desire. Now they were dull with disappointment. He was not to be her hero, but a bag of stones round her neck dragging her down.
“It’s fine,” he ground out. It was a lie. It still burned, from his forearm up his shoulder and radiating out through his chest.
“You’re lying.”
“Don’t call me a liar,” he snapped.
“I don’t see why not,” she responded with a brittle laugh. “You’ve been one since the day I first met you. Now I’m going in here and making breakfast and then we are Apparating to London and I won’t take no for an answer.”
She hobbled off to the kitchen while Severus sat brooding, watching as eggs flew from the icebox to the skillet. The irritating little swot! How dare she talk to him like that?
Last night had been a mistake, he decided. Kissing her had been a mistake. Miss Granger was quite possibly the most irritating human being he had ever encountered and there was no way in hell he would be accompanying her to London.
****
Snape hadn’t protested nearly as much as Hermione had envisioned while she packed up some of his potion bottles to leave, just a little whinging and then just some scowling while she made breakfast. She had expected at the very least some hexes thrown her way. His arm must hurt more than she imagined. The best thing they could do was to get out of this place and recruit help before whoever or whatever it was that had triggered Snape’s Dark Mark gained even more strength.
She tried not to stare at his pinched face and hunched shoulders while the eggs for their breakfast cooked. Last night had been about revelations. Now she knew what had happened to Harry. And she knew how much Snape had suffered.
She could only hope that their current distraction would make him forget any embarrassing advances she had made, especially as it was obvious to her now that they were unwanted.
After breakfast, she hurried the two of them outside where after a swig of Strengthening Potion she Apparated them back to her flat. A stale smell greeted them, and she noticed that Snape turned a slight shade of green. Quickly, she Banished her forgotten trash bins outside to the curb, and looked around for a can of air freshener.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized, spraying all around them in the small kitchen and living room. Small drops of overly sweet smelling mist wetted her already frizzy hair. He shook his head without a word and wrinkled his nose at the potpourri scent.
“Where’s the bed?” he snarled. Hermione pointed him down the hallway towards her small bedroom. She opened the suitcases and gathered up the Pain Relieving Potions he might need and followed him down the corridor.
“These are right here for when you need them,” she said, placing the vials on the bedside table. Once she had him settled in then she planned on going directly to the Ministry for additional Aurors to take back north with her. “Do you need anything else?”
“No.” His answer was curt. He lay down on the bed and kicked off his shoes. She leaned over and pulled up.
“Are you sure? I’m going out.”
“Somehow I managed in the thirty years before you came along,” he answered. Hermione almost didn’t catch his reply as she hurried from the room.
Twenty minutes later and she was at the Ministry. She hurried through the main arboretum as fast as she could with her cane clicking beside her.
“Hermione!” she heard Abby cry. “I haven’t seen you around in awhile. Where have you been?”
“No time to talk now,” Hermione said quickly, barely taking the time to make eye contact. She slid into the lift just as the door closed, leaving her friend outside with a disappointed look on her face. Hermione didn’t think about it, but focused on what she would say to Eckhert. Getting off the lift, she made her way to his office.
“He can’t see you now,” the secretary said, without even looking up from her nails.
“This is of the utmost importance,” Hermione insisted. At hearing her voice, the secretary glanced up and an evil smirk spread across her face like a Cheshire cat.
“Then by all means, go on in. I would hate to delay something important.” Somehow Hermione got the impression that she meant quite the opposite, but she didn’t care so long as she got what she came here to get. Without a moment’s hesitation, she strode into Eckhert’s office.
He sat at his desk, twirling his thick mustache with his beefy fingers and staring at several documents spread across his desk. “Ethel, I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Who did you say these were from again?” he said. Looking up, he realized Hermione was not Ethel. He turned bright red and jumped to his feet.
“Granger!” he yelled. “Where the hell have you been?”
“On suspension, sir,” she answered.
“Right, you’ve been suspended. Which is why I’m puzzled about why I’m receiving Dark Spell incident reports from the field with your signature on them. Only your signature, I might add,” he said.
Hermione cringed. She thought for sure she had destroyed the document, but then remembered they were Indestructible just in case an Auror met with a Dark wizard and didn’t have time to submit it properly.
“That’s what I’m here about actually. Did you read the report, sir? It clearly shows that there is a growing presence in the north hills of Scotland, especially in that area, if we had more Aurors I think we could-“
“Enough!” Eckhert said loudly, cutting Hermione off. “I’m not sending more Aurors to an area of the country I expressly forbade you from returning to.”
“But sir, an elderly man has gone missing and a little girl was slaughtered. Surely that is enough to warrant-“
“It’s the business of the Muggle authorities to look into, not witches and wizards. We have enough to keep us busy without having to worry about their criminals too. We lost Mulciber’s lead because you weren’t here to help with the investigation.”
Hermione restrained herself from reminding him that she hadn’t been here because he had suspended her, but only because she didn’t think it would help. “But if a new Dark Lord is trying to establish himself then-“
“There is no evidence of that!” Eckhert exclaimed, growing red in the face.
“Only because you won’t let me collect any,” Hermione retorted.
“Don’t be impertinent, Granger!”
“But sir-“
“Get out of my office. I don’t want to see you here for another two weeks, do you understand.”
“But-“
“NOW!” he yelled. He threw himself back in his chair and spun around so that he faced the wall. It was obvious that this conversation was over. Hermione stormed from the room.
There was no talking to that man! What did it take to get his attention? She pretended not to know the answer but deep in her heart she knew. It would take a witch or wizard dying before he faced the truth. She liked to tell herself that attitudes toward Muggles had changed since Harry had defeated Voldemort, but it was an illusion.
“Auror Granger!” the secretary called after her as she walked by. Hermione turned and looked at her. She looked positively smug and Hermione wondered just how much, if not all, of the conversation she had overheard.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to remind you that your yearly medical exam is overdue and you know that without it, well, you could be suspended,” at this she raised her eyebrows, “or even terminated.”
“But I had my exam two months ago!” Hermione exclaimed. She had it a month early in fact.
“Oh, you did?” the secretary said, her sincerity obviously affected. “I must have lost the paperwork. I would suggest getting that done very soon. Here’s the form.” She handed Hermione a purple piece of paper with a large smile, then turned back to her typewriter with a giggle.
Hermione stormed from the office, shoving the paper into her pocket with little thought. That stupid exam was the last thing she needed at the moment. And that bloody cow hadn’t lost her paperwork, she had probably misplaced it on purpose!
But she had other things to think about. Such as who she could go to next, to get the help she needed. And then it occurred to her. Percy Weasley.
****
Snape's mood had not improved despite more potions and a nap, though his arm was starting to feel better. He no longer grimaced in pain at every small movement, for example.
But though he felt marginally better, he wasn’t exactly sure what Granger expected him to do while she gallivanted around on the town, now that she had him here. Her combination of food and strident tones that promised only to stop when he got to London were enough to convince that he should accompany her at least this far.
He poked around the kitchen and made himself lunch, and then sat down to investigate her expansive library. Even if she could convince the Ministry to put more Aurors on the case, they still had to find the bastard. And if they knew what he wanted, then they could better predict his moves. The hidden laboratory in the woods made him suspect that it was a potion.
But what potion required a missing old man, a dead girl, and a mutilated cow? Severus wasn’t even sure they were related. Hermione hadn’t performed her Detection spell where the Muggle police had found Emily. And the cow looked horrible, but it wasn’t beyond a Muggle to do the same damage. Even so, he flipped through every book she owned, just to see what he could find.
****
Hermione headed to the Minister of Magic’s office. She hated to go over Eckhert’s head like this. She hated even more that she would have to talk to Percy, but there were more important things to be considered.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked. Unlike Eckhert’s secretary, this woman actually looked like she might be working. Letters folded themselves into enveloped behind while the keys of her typewriter clicked away in the corner. She arranged a tray of tea and biscuits artfully, preparing to take them in.
“Oh, I’ll do that,” Hermione said, taking the tray from her. “We’re old school mates. I’ve just stopped in to say hullo,” she reassured the woman, “if that’s okay.”
“I suppose so. I do have a lot going on out here,” she said, glancing at the typewriter. The charm on the keys needed fixed, Hermione noticed. They kept typing Percy Weasel, Minister of Mugic.
“I’m sure he would rather you fix that than bring him biscuits,” Hermione said. The receptionist nodded her head violently in agreement. With that settled, Hermione took the tray and opened the door to the Minister’s office.
“Just put them there,” he said hurriedly, not bothering to look up.
“Anything else?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t what he expected, and he looked up to find her smiling at him. “Hi, Percy.”
“Hermione!” he exclaimed, standing up. “What an honor. It’s sad to think we work in the same building and never see each other.”
She didn’t mention that she saw him everyday in the hallway since she started at the Ministry, but he hadn’t once waved hello and she had stopped trying after the third week. It would be rude and counterproductive.
“Even sadder to think I’m only here for a favor,” she said with a chuckle instead.
“A favor?” He motioned for her to sit, offering her a biscuit while she did. She declined, jumping right to her plea.
“I know you’re an important and busy man, so I’ll get right to the point,” she started. And then she told him everything. Everything minus Snape that was. For his part, he sat and listened. When she finished, he sat forward in his chair, his fingers steepled and his elbows resting on his desk.
“I’m afraid Eckhert is right, Hermione. You have very little proof to go on. If you had another witness to your Detection spell, maybe, but…”
Hermione didn’t waste a moment to think about the consequences of her next actions, she just reacted. “Snape saw it,” she said. “And his Dark Mark. It’s growing blacker. I’ve seen it,” she confessed.
“Snape!” Percy said with a gasp. “You’ve found Snape?”
“Yes, he lives in the area and he’s been very helpful with gathering evidence-“
“He’s a wanted criminal and you didn’t bring him in. Hermione, that’s a crime in itself. I really shouldn’t be discussing-“
“He was acquitted, Percy,” she argued.
“Only because our star witness conveniently disappeared. Did you know he’s wanted for questioning in Harry’s disappearance?”
“I’ve asked him about that.” This was not going the way she wanted, not at all.
“And?” Percy prompted.
“And it has nothing to do with a little girl dying!”
“Hermione, you have a known killer in your reach and you did nothing. Does Eckhert know about this? If I were him, I would fire you this instant. Actually-“ He reached for a large tome on the edge of his book entitled An Overly Self Inflated Guide to Being Minister of Magic. “I might just have the power to do so myself.”
“Percy!”
“Hermione, he is Dumbledore’s killer. He killed countless others. He followed L-lord, well, You-Know-Who. This isn’t one of your school adventures. Has he cursed you? Or maybe poisoned you somehow? I can’t believe you would do something like this on your own.”
It was obvious to Hermione that Percy would be no help. In the past, she might have tried talking her way of the situation, but her time with Snape had convinced her there were better methods.
She pointed her wand at the Minister of Magic and said in a clear voice, “Obliviate.”
His eyes went blank and after a moment, he shook his head and looked at her as though she had just entered the room. “Hermione, how nice to see you. It’s sad to think we work in the same building and never see each other.”
“It is, isn’t it,” she said sweetly.
“Unfortunately, I am an important man and have lots to do, so you’ll have to be quick,” he said. Hermione restrained herself from declaring just what a prat he was.
“I just stopped by to say hello and to tell you I saw your mother in Diagon Alley the other day. She wasn’t looking very well. You should really call on her.”
“Oh, right. Yes, well, I’ll do that,” he said, thumbing through some papers. She didn’t know if he had even registered what it was that she had said. But if he did at least Molly would be happy to have a visit from her son.
“Have a nice day, Percy.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hermione decided it was time to make a visit to St. Mungo’s.
****
The Healers who conducted the Aurors’ yearly examinations were on the third floor. But Hermione headed down a narrow and rickety staircase that led to the second basement to a door with a crooked sign that read “Neville Longbottom.” She knocked and after a hearing a mumbled “Come in,” entered.
“Hermione!” Neville said from his desk. Despite the dark and dank hallway outside, inside his office there were windows with sunlight streaming in. Plants of every variety lined the walls and cluttered the floor.
“Neville, how is everything? Still growing medicinal plants, I see,” she said with a genuine smile.
“I’m good,” he said with a smile, “as long as I don’t have to brew the potions myself. And how are you?”
She almost uttered a rote response, but things were not good or even fine. Things were very bad, and she told him that bluntly. She could always count on Neville to be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked when she finished explaining about the scary events in the north.
“The Ministry is determined to ignore the signs, but if we could gather together former members of the Order of the Phoenix, then we could stop this person before they gained power like Voldemort did. I already have one person ready to help,” she said, purposely not naming that particular person. She imagined Neville would react in much the same way that Percy had to news that she had found Snape.
“I don’t know,” Neville said. “Most people are gone. Ron is Egypt and his brothers are spread out everywhere. Fred and George moved their store to America. I’ve heard they’re richer than goblins these days. Lupin isn’t strong enough these days what with his illness and…well we were lucky to survive the first time round, weren’t we?”
Hermione nodded. Most of the Order had made the ultimate sacrifice to the cause. Remembering them reminded her how important it was to stop this Dark witch or wizard now while they could.
“Who’s the other person? Most of the Order isn’t around these days. Was it Luna? I had lunch with her today and she didn’t mention anything. Or maybe Arthur? But then you would have said two people because I really can't see Arthur doing anything without Molly by his side. So?”
Hermione cringed. She tried in vain to think of something, anything to say that wouldn’t make him suspicious and wasn’t outright lying. “I’d rather not say right now.”
Neville frowned at her. “Hermione, who is it?” he pressed.
“Snape,” she whispered.
His mouth fell open. “Who?”
“He’s saved my life, Neville. I was attacked in the woods, and he found me, and carried me back to his shack in the forest, and nursed me back to health, and he’s been helping me investigate this case until last night when his Dark Mark burned black and we just knew that this was too big for just the two of us. We need help, your help, anyone and everyone’s help so that this doesn’t turn into the nightmare we have already lived through once, a nightmare he has lived through twice,” Hermione said so quickly it left her gasping for breath, but she didn’t want to take the chance that he wouldn’t let her finish.
“A nightmare he helped create,” Neville said, his voice suddenly cold. “I can’t believe you would stand there and ask me to help him. After what he and his school pals did to my parents. I-I-you need to leave.” His face turned red and his voice wavered, and Hermione knew he was right.
She turned and walked toward the door. Pausing as she went through, she turned and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Neville. I truly am, but I have to do something.”
“Not with him, you don’t,” he replied.
“He’s the only one who will,” she said. And then she left.
****
Utterly discouraged, she rummaged through her pockets for the crumpled form and headed upstairs. If anything, she would accomplish this today.
Three hours later, she emerged from the examination room, more frustrated and angry than before. The Healers had poked, prodded, and shoved their wands in places they were never meant to go. All she wanted was a cup of tea and a piece of chocolate. Or sod the tea and give her some wine. She’d almost forgotten that she had left Snape back at her flat, but quickly remembered.
“Where have you been?” he demanded the moment she stepped through the Floo. He had taken off his robe, leaving him in a pair of trousers and a soft gray jumper rolled up at the sleeves. He almost looked like an average Muggle except that he paced the living room like a caged animal. Books and papers were strewn everywhere from the kitchen table to the living room floor. It looked like her bookshelf had exploded while she had been gone. She wondered what he had been doing all this time other than obviously trashing the place.
“St. Mungo’s,” she said, her irritation at his cold welcome home bleeding through her tone.
“What’s wrong with you?” If there was any concern in his harsh tone, Hermione didn’t bother looking for it.
“Many things according to the two twits who just poked and prodded me for three hours,” she spat. She took off her cloak and gently lowered herself into the nearest armchair. Her body ached all over, her left eye had a throbbing pain behind it, and her throat was parched.
“Of course there are things wrong with you,” Snape said sharply, sitting down in the chair across from her. “Or did you forget the curse that nearly killed you?”
“I didn’t forget,” she spat. “It’s just that no one believes me. If that’s true, Auror Granger,” she said in a high pitched tone that in no way resembled the Healer’s voice but represented it nonetheless, “why were you never admitted to St. Mungo’s? We have no record of any such curse.”
“You would have died if I had taken you to those idiots,” Snape said.
“But at least I would still have my job!” Hermione retorted, her voice rising slightly in volume. She felt all the frustration in her bubbling up and out and the only available target happened to be Snape.
“No you wouldn’t. You would be dead.”
“They asked me where I did go,” she said, knowing it would anger Snape. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she felt he deserved to be just as angry and irritated as she was. It was his fault she was in this mess, wasn’t it? She certainly would have help if it weren’t for him. Just as she predicted, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.
“And what did you tell them?” His voice was low and dangerous.
“What could I tell them? Yes, I know you don’t believe I was hit with a deadly unnamed curse that no one has never seen, but lucky for me a former Death Eater, murderer, and fugitive found me, took me back to his shack and healed me.”
“And I suppose I should have just left you there?”
“Yes! I didn’t ask for your help,” she said. It was irrational and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Being unconscious and freezing to death in the snow makes asking a little difficult,” he snapped.
“How do I know I was even hit with a mysterious curse? How do I know it wasn’t you that hexed me? All I know is that one minute I’m walking through the woods and then the next I’m waking up in your bedroom and you’re feeding me some story!” She stood up and glared at him. Her breaths came in little gasps the angrier she got.
“You think I made it all up?” he asked incredulously. “Some ploy to get women, I suppose. Curse them while their backs are turned and then drag them back to my budoir?”
“Makes perfect sense to me!”
His face contorted in anger. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together to form a thin line. Hermione could tell that he was holding himself back. “You’re not making any sense at all. I suggest you go to bed before you say something unwise.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!”
“I will when you stop acting like one,” he spat. He stood up and advanced on her, trying to use his height to intimidate her. She took a step back.
“I am NOT acting like a child. I am a MATURE WOMAN asking serious questions about what happened to me in that forest! SOMETHING is going on up there and NO ONE but me seems to give a damn. And why is your Dark Mark turning black? What do you know, Snape? What aren’t you telling me?” She was screaming by now. Snape flicked his wand, some spell to keep the neighbors from overhearing no doubt, but it only angered her more.
“I know just as much as you do,” he hissed, coming closer. He had her backed up against a wall and like a caged animal she lashed out.
“And why should I trust you?” she asked, pushing him away from her.
He caught her by the wrists, his long tapered fingers digging into her skin. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. All I had to do was leave you there in the snow to die.”
“Let go of me, you bastard, you murderer!” she said, twisting out of his grip. He let her go and she turned away from him, unable to look him in the eye after saying such horrible things, even if they were true.
“You should leave,” she said, her voice softer now as she recovered her breath.
“You invited me here. Insisted that I come. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, if I recall.”
“Now,” she insisted. She heard a huff, then the rustle of his robes. A few minutes later, she heard the click of the door and she knew he was gone. Wondering if he would ever return and what she would do without him, she sank to the floor and cried.
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