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A Matter of Honor Book 3: Love and Honor Chapter 11: Return to Reality Some time later, she woke in his arms to hear him whispering her name. She sat up, and he said, "You fell asleep, my love. You should go now; it's late." He brushed her hair with his fingers. "I don't want to leave…" she began, unsure of what she did want, but he placed a finger on her lips. "It is too soon for you to stay. For both of us." She smiled in response. He stood and moved to the fireplace. "If you like, you can take the shortcut." He gestured to the flames. Giving him a look, she said, "It's fairly disconcerting to know that you could show up in my room by this route at any time." The corner of his lip curled. "Of course," she grinned, "I suppose that works both ways." Now his smile was wicked. "Of course it doesn't. Do you think Professor Dumbledore is the only one who knows how to manipulate a Floo network?" She did her best to look angry, but he pulled her close and kissed her lips--slowly, insistently, until she had to catch her breath. The hint of a smile. "Go now," he said, "before we change our minds."
It was much later still before either of them fell asleep. Sometime before dawn, however, Hermione managed. Just before her alarm went off, she was awakened by the sound of wings. Turning, she saw Mordred, and was up at once. She let the bird in and he fluttered to rest on the edge of the bed. Crookshanks eyed him warily. Taking the note, Hermione smiled at the now-familiar handwriting. "He loves me," she said to owl and cat. They were too busy keeping an eye on each other to respond.
Hermione wasn't quite sure how she was going to make it through breakfast. She was both disappointed and relieved to find that Severus had come and gone; apparently Arthur Prichard had challenged a seventh-year Slytherin to a duel, and they had been at the edge of the Forbidden Forest just before breakfast, seconds and all. Prichard was now in the hospital wing, blinded, and with a tree branch growing out of his shoulder. The older boy was in the Headmaster's office, facing Dumbledore and Snape. She didn't give much for his chances. It was Thursday, so she didn't have class until her seventh years met after lunch. She thought about taking a nap, but decided to tackle some of the grading that she'd let stack up since the week before. Just before lunch, she decided that, after all, she really did want to test a new combination before the weekend, and since the base needed to steep eight hours before she could use it, she'd need to start it now if she wanted it ready by the evening. And since Severus had a free period… She headed down to the dungeon, chiding herself for being nervous. As she arrived in the Potions corridor, she stopped at the sight of a man exiting Snape's outer office door. As the man stepped into the light, she saw that he was younger than she had first thought. And when he sneered, she caught her breath. He saw her then, and the sneer deepened. "Why, if it isn't Hermione Granger, Hogwarts's newest mudblood teacher. Still sucking up to Snape, are we? Or are you planning on sleeping your way into a tenured position?" "Hello, Draco," she replied, trying her best to make her eyes cold and distant. "What are you doing here?" He moved closer to her--too close--a gleam in his eye. "Wouldn't you like to know…" he drawled, before laughing derisively as he climbed the stairs.
Once he was gone, Hermione hurried to the classroom and threw open the door without knocking. Snape was pacing at the far side. "What in the hell was Draco Malfoy doing here?" she demanded. He did not respond. "Well?" Severus came to a stop at the front of the room, placing a hand to his head. "Nothing," he said flatly. "Nothing?!" How dare he shut her out now. "Yes, I can see it's nothing," she snapped. He turned a scowl on her that she hadn't seen for years. "I will not discuss this in committee right now…" "I am NOT a committee!" she stormed. His voice was almost threatening. "Later. We will discuss this later." When she began to protest, his voice slowed to a low growl. "Not now, and never in this room. Do you understand?" "I understand perfectly," she said, and slammed the door on her way out.
She didn't speak to him again until that evening, though she could tell he was watching her out of the corner of his eye at dinner. She opened his office door, again without knocking, and, closing it behind her, said, "Lucius Malfoy is one of the Three, isn't he." It wasn't a question. Snape stood. Gesturing towards the classroom, he said, "Secure everything, then come with me." She returned to find him waiting, the passageway open. Once they were safely seated in his room, he said, more gently this time, "We cannot discuss these things anywhere but here. This room--and the Headmaster's office--are the only rooms I completely trust." "I'm sorry," she murmured. He placed a finger softly under her chin, kissed her gently. "I did not mean for it to sound like scolding. But I am…not used to this. And I must have time to ponder things, to get my own thoughts under control, before I can discuss them." She nodded. Leaning back, he returned to business. "Yes. Lucius Malfoy is one of the Three. The leader, we believe, and the wizard who cursed me Halloween night." "Malfoy doesn't know Avada Kadavra, then?" "No," Snape confirmed, "he does not. Malfoy's greatest talent is getting other people to do his dirtiest work. Unfortunately for him, he also prefers to surround himself with people even less talented than himself." "So…why was Draco here?" He sighed. "Draco Malfoy was here to bring me a message from his father." Hermione was suddenly afraid. "But if Draco can just walk in here, into your office…" He shook his head. "I agree, it was a more effective gesture than sending me a warning by owl post. But think. Why could Draco enter, where his father could not? Aside from the fact that Lucius is in hiding and would be taken into custody the moment he showed his face on school property, that is." She thought for a moment, and then found her answer. "Because Draco was bringing a message--he wasn't intending you any immediate harm. If his father arrived, the wards would keep him out, because they would detect that, at some point, he intended to kill you." Severus nodded. She paused before asking, "Do you think Draco is working with his father--I mean, other than carrying messages? I hated him in school," she thought the word seemed too severe for childhood dislike, in conversation with a man who knew what hate was, "but I never thought he would…I guess I was being naïve." Snape shook his head. "I suspect that Lucius has kept Draco out of the way of things since he was old enough to understand them. He's only using him now because he's on the run--and because he knew that the sight of his son would throw me…and anyone else who saw him. No, that was part of Draco's problem in school. He had the attitude, but not the confidence to back it up, because he believed his father didn't trust him. But Lucius kept Draco clean, as it were, because he wanted to be sure there was a Malfoy left alive in the end to carry on the family name. So much for faith in our success," he added sarcastically, more to himself than to Hermione. She paused. "I've been thinking about that night, and I have another question." He nodded. "You said…you said that Malfoy and his cronies knew you were coming, that they ran, but that then they jumped you before the others could get there." "Correct." "Now, isn't there a chance that one of your contacts told them you would be there? I mean, are you sure you can trust them?" He smiled approvingly. "No, I am not sure. But I am as certain as I can be." He stroked her hair, a smile playing about his lips. "Now, I believe we have some work to do in the other room?" "In a minute," she said, and curled up beside him, placing her hand over his heart.
A/N: Bill was thrilled to see that Hermione manages to quote his favorite line from Star Wars (Princess Leia to Han Solo) when she tells Snape that she is not a committee. The passage in Severus's note to Hermione is taken from Matthew Arnold's poem, "The Buried Life," first published in 1852. Finally, it strikes me that any Victorian poet writing about faith and doubt (and aren't they all?) would have a place on Snape's shelf. So while it was easy to attribute to Hermione my own fondness for Victorian/nineteenth-century novels (and they do suit her), the poetry turned out to be a natural fit for Severus as well.
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