A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 3: Love and Honor

Chapter 8: Halloween

By the next morning the wind had picked up, and the leaves were dancing in circles over the Hogwarts grounds. Grey clouds loomed on the far horizon, and Hermione worried that they'd have to make the return trip from Hogsmeade in the rain.

She had agreed to go along as a faculty sponsor, much to the delight of her third years (all but Slytherin). She hoped that this generation's Fred and George Weasley wouldn't choose today to make their debut.

At the same time, she was glad for the distraction. If she'd stayed at Hogwarts, she would have either spent the day in the dungeons, forcing herself not to ask any questions, or in her own office, wishing she was down in the dungeons forcing herself not to ask any questions.

As it was, she was sitting in The Three Broomsticks with Hagrid and Remus, desperately wishing that she were down in the dungeons, questions or no questions.

"This crowd can only mean Hogwarts has come to town!" Sirius Black stood in the doorway, smiling at the melee before him. Remus motioned him over and Hermione waved a greeting in reply.

As he pulled up a chair, Hagrid called out, "'nother mug o' ale, Rosemerta!"

Remus tapped him on the shoulder. "Go up and get it yourself, friend, you know you want to." Hagrid blushed, but he moved to the counter.

Sirius smiled at Hermione. "I got a note from Harry yesterday. He's all moved in, and likes his job just fine. Saw Ron on Friday, he said. Seems to be doing all right."

"That's good to hear," she smiled. "I'm afraid I haven't been a very good correspondent this term."

"Well, you've been busy, I hear," Sirius noted, shifting his gaze away from her.

Remus turned the conversation to the Quidditch match, and Sirius was saying that he wanted to come up for the game against Slytherin when Hermione noticed a cluster of students on the street outside. She knew students don't cluster unless something is going on.

As she came out of the pub door, several of the kids moved away, leaving a clear view of the pair at the center of the group: Arthur Prichard and Geoffrey Wood (cousin to Oliver), the Gryffindor seeker. Before Prichard could notice her, he shoved Wood hard enough to make him stumble back a couple of steps.

"Five points from Slytherin, Prichard," she barked. She had his attention now.

Prichard turned on his sneer. "Yeah, right. Like those will stick. All I have to do is tell Snape that Wood started it. Who's he going to believe? A student from his own house, or a Gryffindor witch who's barely out of school herself?"

Hermione took a breath, slowly, and allowed her eyebrow to arch just as slowly. She noticed a first year Slytherin back away. In her smoothest voice, she drawled, "Well, Mr. Prichard, if Professor Snape's reaction to my news that you have been turning in unacceptable homework assignments in my class all semester is any indication, I would guess that, of the two of us, he is more likely to believe me."

Prichard's sneer failed him. As she went back into the pub, she smiled.

That night, she went to the dungeons twice: once at nine o'clock, just as the Halloween Feast was moving from the Great Hall into the common rooms, once at midnight. After that, the potion would be all right on its own until six o'clock the next morning.

She couldn't stand to stay in the dungeons in the meantime. She couldn't stand the silence.

She slept fitfully, waking fifteen minutes before her alarm. She was in the workroom ten minutes before the hour, and though she knew Snape wasn't usually there so early, she hoped that she would find him preparing to stir the potion himself.

He wasn't there.

Hermione went to breakfast; Madam Hooch was the only one at the table. Not wanting to leave empty seats between them, she took Snape's usual place, mechanically reaching for the teapot.

She managed small talk, waiting for the others to arrive, hoping that they had news. By seven o'clock, Remus had arrived, as well as Flitwick and McGonagall, but when she asked Remus under her breath if he knew anything, he shook his head. Her heart sank.

Snape's first class was at eight o'clock. She refrained from going down to his classroom to see if he was there, but she was now officially worried. Dumbledore had never shown up at breakfast, and there had been no note in the mail. Mordred hadn't even made an appearance, as if he knew his Master wouldn't be present.

She went to her office to pass the time until her first class, but couldn't sit still. Finally, she decided that she had sufficient reason to see the Headmaster.

At the statue, she spoke the password: "Fizzy Lifting Drinks." She almost lost her nerve as she rode the staircase up, but Snape's words rang in her ears. I would say that if I'm not in class on Monday, you should worry.

She knocked on the door, and took heart at Dumbledore's cheery tone. "Do come in, Professor Granger."

She entered, and met the Headmaster's smiling eyes. "Sir, I…do you know where Professor Snape is?" she blurted out.

"Ah yes. I have been expecting you this morning. I wanted to ask if Severus had told you anything of his plans." He waited.

Hermione was stunned. If Dumbledore had to ask her for information… She swallowed. "All he said was that he wasn't going far, and that if he wasn't back by his first class, I had his permission to worry. I've been watching a potion we're working on; it will need stirring again at noon…" she trailed off, realizing that she was beginning to ramble.

"Please, sit," Dumbledore said, and motioned to a chair. "I know slightly more than you do," he began, "though not much. Severus has insisted on dealing with these matters himself--he believes me to be in danger." Hermione's eyes grew wide. "There's no reason to fear, child, while there is reason enough to worry."

The familiar endearment was a comfort, coming from Dumbledore. "So…do you know where he is? Is he all right?"

"I have an idea," Dumbledore answered. "And I believe that we shall find Severus before dinnertime." Hermione's mind raced, a thousand questions colliding in her brain. Before she could frame one of them, Dumbledore continued. "Professor Granger, I must ask you to proceed with your classes as usual. And I must ask you to be available to teach Professor Snape's final section of the day, should we need you. I believe Professor Sprout will be able to take his morning classes, as they are both first years. In the afternoon, I will send Professor Lupin to sit with the fourth years as they do some writing in class, if you will then take the third years. I believe the lesson plans will be in Severus's office--nothing you can't handle. Or you could always adjust them to something you are more interested in."

Hermione had stopped listening. At first she was distracted at the thought of four classes in one day (and three different preparations), and then she regrouped and began, "Professor Dumbledore, what if…"

"I think that you should head to your own class now, Professor Granger." She nodded, and rose to leave. "Hermione," he said, "I will let you know immediately when there is any news. Any news at all."

She managed a smile. "Thank you, Sir."

Finding herself unable to lecture, Hermione quizzed her classes for half the hour and then set them to working equations, saying it was in preparation for their upcoming exam. By the time she arrived in the classroom to prepare for the Potions lesson, she wasn't sure she'd make it through.

As she took her place behind the podium, however, the thought of Snape in every class she'd ever had from him, glaring at them from this same spot, was enough to convince her that she would be all right. ("What irony," she thought.) Luckily, she had Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and no Slytherins to insist she tell them where their Head of House was. These students simply looked relieved that he wasn't there.

At the end of class, she said goodbye to one of her own students, and then noticed Professor Sprout in the hallway. Her heart jumped into her throat and she swallowed it down.

"You're wanted in the infirmary, dear. Professor Dumbledore said to bring you right away."

She wanted to run. Professor Sprout was moving so slowly. As they turned onto the hospital wing, she did run.

She opened the door to find Remus and Dumbledore in conference with Madam Pomfrey. She couldn't find breath to ask the question. Remus touched her arm. "It's all right. He's here."

She turned to Dumbledore, who said, "I believe he'll be fine, my dear. But we need your help. Do you have any of your improvement on the Cruciatus cure made up?"

She had thought she was prepared for anything. But the thought of Snape… Her face contorted for a moment.

Swallowing hard, she managed, "I…I should make some up fresh. The stuff we…the stuff I have on hand won't be as potent." Dumbledore nodded. "Can I see him, Sir?" She looked pleadingly into the Headmaster's face.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think it would be best if you did what you had to do first. Then you may stay with him as long as you want."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Of course…no, of course you're right. I'll start right away. Thank you, Sir."

She didn't realize that Remus had followed her to the classroom until Professor Sprout said, "Oh, good. Someone to sit with her. I've been waiting; I didn't know quite how to close everything up and didn't want to leave it."

"We'll take it from here," Remus assured her.

Hermione had automatically moved to the storeroom, her hands knowing from numerous repetitions how to find everything she needed. She stepped up to the worktable, stared at the cauldron for a moment, and then went into her workroom.

Remus stood in the doorway. "I'm not much of a potion maker myself, but if you need any help…"

She shook her head and insistently wiped the only tear she couldn't contain from her cheek. "No, I can do it."

He stood in silence and watched her work. He'd never seen her brew a potion before. She was quick yet methodical, her movements occasionally mimicking, completely unconsciously, those of her mentor…her friend…. Despite the tears that were still threatening to fall, she never hesitated. Her hands never shook.

Back in the hospital wing, Dumbledore was still waiting. Hermione handed a vial to Madam Pomfrey and noted, "I've made up enough for about six doses. The whole vial, and another one every four hours. Hopefully that will be enough…" she choked on her words.

They waited in silence as Madam Pomfrey took the treatment into the room and behind the curtain at the far end. When she was done, she pulled the curtain back a bit, and moved a chair to Snape's bedside.

"Go on, child." Dumbledore's voice was soft and gentle, and Hermione felt the tears on her cheeks as she moved into the room.

"She can stay as long as she likes, Poppy," Dumbledore said, and then they both returned to their own duties, leaving Remus to take a chair by the door.

He watched the figure of the girl--the woman--as she took a seat next to the bed. Wiping a tear from her eye, she took the man's hand and sat watching him, willing him to wake up.

Remus would stay as long as she did, watching her from the chair in which Snape had spent the night, three years ago.

A/N: Fizzy lifting drinks are on loan from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

On to Chapter 9