|
A Matter of Honor Book 3: Love and Honor Chapter 17: Epiphany When Hermione woke the next morning, Severus was gone. In his place at her back, Crookshanks purred loudly, curled up in the warmth his new favorite had left behind. When she rolled over to face him, the nose that was just peeking out from under the covers raised a bit, as if judging whether or not her movement presented a clear and present danger. "I know you're there, and I promise I'm not going to roll on you," she said, curling herself around her cat, her arm flung across Severus's pillow. The nose lowered itself; the purring grew loud again.
At first, she assumed that Severus didn't want to talk about their conversation last night, and had beat a hasty retreat. She had breakfast on time, sitting amidst the other professors and lingering over scones to finish a conversation with Dumbledore and McGonagall. After Minerva had gone (Hermione wondered later if they had planned this beforehand, or if Dumbledore had given some sign recognizable as such only to McGonagall), Dumbledore twinkled at her from behind his spectacles. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and the twinkle became a soft chuckle. Reaching for the pot of tea, Dumbledore began, "Miss Granger, I have been wondering whether or not to say anything to you concerning your relationship with Severus." He paused when she smiled. "What is it? Have I said something humorous?" "No, Sir. It's just…well, I've been waiting to see who would ask me first. I didn't expect it would be you." The Headmaster smiled. "I did not intend to ask anything, Miss Granger. Just to comment." She smiled again (since when did Dumbledore have to ask questions, after all?), and nodded for him to continue. "I have never seen Severus Snape so…content," he ventured. "I would say 'happy,' though I suspect that adjective will always be a little strong for our Severus." "Perhaps." Hermione sipped her tea, and then added, a little coyly, "Though you might be surprised." At this, Dumbledore let out a genuine laugh, nearly causing Hermione to drop her cup. "You are probably right at that, my dear," he said, and reached for another scone.
When she arrived in the Potions classroom, however, there was no sign of Snape. Hermione knocked on his office door, opening it when there was no answer. She thought about returning to her rooms and going through the hearth to see if he was holed up in his own chambers, but decided that he'd show up when he was good and ready. Setting herself to work, Hermione didn't notice the passage of time until her stomach began to growl. Looking at the clock, she was surprised to see that it was lunchtime. Still no Severus. She decided to surface, to see who was around. The thought of asking the others if they'd seen him didn't appeal to her, but maybe somebody would mention something. She joined Remus and Hooch at the table, and before long Flitwick arrived. The four of them settled into a lively conversation about Quidditch prospects in the new term (with Slytherin's troubles, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor had emerged neck and neck at the front of the standings), and it was only after lunch, when she was on her way back down to the dungeons, that her niggling worries about Snape resurfaced. She decided to check in with Dumbledore.
Pausing beside the Gargoyle, Hermione had a brief moment of panic, remembering the last time she had come to the Headmaster's office in search of Severus. She hadn't let herself think that he might be in trouble…. Flailing about mentally for anything that would anchor her thoughts and give her another possibility, a piece clicked into place. When Dumbledore welcomed her into the office, her opening query was much calmer than she felt. "Have you seen Severus, Professor? I'm wondering if he's in hiding because it's his birthday." The look on his face told her that her guess had been right. "I've always said that you were clever, dear. But I'm sorry, I don't think that his absence is as petty as that, much as we would like it to be." Hermione's face fell. "What…do you know something, Professor?" The thought that he had been keeping something from her at breakfast… "I have only just received word that there may be something darker at play. I myself had not realized that Severus was absent today, since you mentioned nothing at breakfast and I assumed that he was avoiding the dining table as a matter of course. Or, as you say, a matter of birthday." "I didn't realize he was missing until he didn't show up in the dungeons all morning," Hermione managed to explain. "Ah. Well, I will hasten to say that I do not think Severus is in immediate danger. I suspect…but then, let us hear what Sirius has to say." Black stood in the door, having just arrived. Hermione hadn't heard him come in, and didn't understand why he should have any information about Severus. "No real news, Sir," Sirius said, taking the seat next to Hermione as Dumbledore gestured towards it. Turning to Hermione, he explained. "As you may know, I…hear things. And part of what I hear concerns the renegade Death Eaters that I believe Snape has been tracking for some time now." Hermione did not respond or react; though she trusted Sirius, she would not give away anything that Severus had told her, could she help it. She realized too late, however, that her lack of reaction would reveal that she knew something, that the news wasn't a complete surprise. After watching her closely for a few moments, Black continued. "Early this morning, I got wind that there had been a meeting near Hogsmeade last night--three men, one definitely working on our side, though not with us. Of the other two…we're not sure." Hermione ran down the mental checklist: Snape's ally was the one Sirius was sure of, and the two were Snape's other, questionable colleague and the new contact. When she still said nothing, Black said, "I know for a fact that Snape wasn't at the meeting. I assume, however, that he will have gone to survey the damage for himself today, as soon as he heard." "The…damage?" Hermione asked. "The man on our side is…missing, and presumed dead," Sirius said shortly, but not without gentleness. Hermione took a deep breath, and turned to look at the Headmaster, who had remained silent throughout Sirius's narrative. Sirius, however, was still focused on Hermione. "If you know anything, Hermione, I need you to tell me. I need to find Snape, to see…" "No, Sirius. You will not put her in the middle of this." Dumbledore's voice was soft, but it was clear this was not a request. "Sir, I…" "No. What Miss Granger knows and does not know is none of our business. I assume, as you clearly do, that Severus has told her part of this--possibly more than we know. But we must leave it to her to speak of it, or to act on it, as she will. Hopefully, she will come to us for help, should she decide there is something to be done." Black began to protest, and Hermione to reassure, but Dumbledore stopped them both with a wave of his hand. "Miss Granger, I believe we will have Severus back with us, safe and sound, before the end of the day--once he has, as Sirius says, surveyed the damage. I would ask you not to take any drastic action, should I turn out to be wrong in this, without consulting me." Hermione nodded. "And Sirius, I think that it might be wise to allow Severus to deal with this? Let us lie low for today and see what news the evening brings." "As you wish, Headmaster. With your permission…?" He was already halfway to the door. Dumbledore nodded, and, when the door closed behind Black, said, "Miss Granger, I honestly do not think we have cause to worry." "Thank you, Sir. You'll let me know if you do hear anything?" "Of course. Though I suspect you will see Severus before I do." As Hermione rose to leave, he added, "You will wish him a happy birthday for me, won't you?" Hermione smiled, pulling the door closed after her.
As the afternoon wore on, Hermione's anger began to catch up with her worry. Dumbledore's reassurance and Sirius's explanation had kept the latter at bay; now that she was mostly convinced Severus wasn't in danger, she had room to be mad at him. She had made it very clear that she would not be left in the dark again, wondering where he was and when--if--he would come home. How hard would it have been for him to tell her that he had to go out to check on some reports, that he would be back by nightfall, that…well, anything?! In her distraction, she added too much octopus tentacle to the cauldron. The potion turned a sludge-grey color and bubbled up, oozing over the side. She waved her wand to stop the reaction, but decided to leave the mess for Snape to clean up.
After forcing herself to eat dinner with the others, and not to appear too distracted, Hermione retreated to her rooms. She paced, she vented to Crookshanks, she made tea that she was too wound up to drink. Finally, she gave up, and sat in the green chair to stare at the fire and wait. Several hours after dark, a small, honey-colored owl arrived at her window.
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. Clearly, Severus would have had a bad day--a severe understatement, since most likely his ally was dead. And she didn't want him to shut down entirely. But he was going to have to deal with her, and it wouldn't wait until morning. She moved to the fireplace, set her jaw, and said, "Severus." No answer. Louder: "Severus." On the third try, it dawned on her. The invocation of his name didn't work simply because he was there in his rooms; it was a request, and he had to give her permission to enter, each and every time. The implications of that--the questions of trust and control and the sheer stubbornness of it all--swept away her concern for Snape's state of mind. "Severus Snape, you bastard, let me through now or by the Gods…" The smoke shifted color slightly--the sign that she could pass through--and she stepped into the flames.
She had not expected this. Snape sat sprawled on the floor, his back to the sofa, with one leg stretched out under the table and the other drawn up to his chest. His robes and his jacket were strewn across a chair; his boots had been flung towards the door. He had undone his cuffs and his collar, pulled one side of his shirttail out of his trousers. His hair was more unruly than usual, with ends curling every which way and strands of it insistently falling into his face. The half-empty bottle of scotch on the table in front of him told the tale. At her arrival, Snape looked up, running through his hair the hand that was not holding the glass. He smiled faintly. "I suppose you are here to chastise me for disappearing? Well, my dear, I do hope that you won't restrain yourself on my account. At this point, I would welcome your further slurs on my parentage as a fitting end to an perfectly foul day." He poured another shot (more like two or three) into the glass, held it up to her in a crude parody of a toast, and drank. "Damn him," Hermione thought. She couldn't tell how drunk he was. She didn't know if he'd started with a full bottle or not, and she would bet money that Snape would remain annoyingly articulate, regardless. There was a glazed look in his eyes, however, that told her he had drunk enough to make a difference. She sunk into to the chair opposite him, and, offering no sympathy as of yet, asked, "What happened?" He poured another and sighed. Without prevarication or pause, he said, "Last night I received word that my ally had agreed to go with our colleague to meet with the new contact--to assess the situation and provide that service to which the American action films so charmingly refer as 'backup.' He didn't tell me when or where, but the meeting had originally been scheduled for the tenth of this month. I was being purposefully kept clear of things. This morning, at about five thirty, I received another message." He drank, and poured again. This one he held in his hand, watching the liquid swirl in the glass as he spoke. "You were right, of course." A glance at her, empty of sarcasm. "Our colleague was not to be trusted. And my ally is dead. By the hand of a man he called 'friend.'" He tossed back the drink, eyed the empty glass, and then hurled it into the fireplace. Hermione flinched. He continued calmly, as if there had been no interruption. "The new contact was Draco Malfoy. He claimed that he wanted to stop his father, that he had information. Of course I would have known better, and so I was kept away. My ally should have known better…" He trailed off, staring into the flames for a minute, but Hermione knew he was looking at something she could not see. "I left this morning thinking that I would hear the details of the meeting and be back before you awoke. Instead, I spent the day investigating a man's death. Two of our colleagues have gone to ground. The man with whom I am left will be of little help, though I am fairly certain that he is loyal. And we are left with one more traitor to hunt down." Hermione raised an eyebrow at his final turn of phrase, but said nothing. They sat in silence for several minutes before he turned his gaze on her. "Well?" "Well…what?" She wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. "If you could see fit to yell at me sooner, rather than later, I'd like to get it over with so I can pass out and wake up on what will have to be a better day." Hermione didn't respond. She simply rose from her chair and, taking the bottle with her, crossed to the bathroom. As shocked as she was to find Severus drunk, she would have been even more surprised if he didn't have a remedy already prepared. As controlling as he was, he wouldn't risk letting himself get drunk without…there it was. She returned with the vial of Sober-Up Potion and set it on the table in front of him. He shot her a look of amusement mixed with irritation, and said, "I'd just as soon stay drunk, if you don't mind." "Drink it." He obeyed, and eyed her almost warily. He closed his eyes as his head began to clear and said softly, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I honestly thought I'd be back…" She moved to sit beside him. When she said nothing, he looked at her. Her face was unreadable. "Your apology is accepted. Though we're going to have a long talk about this tomorrow." He looked confused. "Why tomorrow?" Then she smiled gently at him, brushing his hair out of his face. "Because I wouldn't want to make your birthday any worse than it already is." He chuckled at that, and they sat in silence, watching the fire.
Some time after they had moved to the sofa, Severus murmured, "You have no idea how hard it is to be kept back, to learn of things after the fact, to wonder if you could have helped…" He trailed off, and Hermione chose to stay silent. "Then again," he noted gently, "I suppose you do." Maybe, she thought, their talk wouldn't have to be quite so long, after all.
A/N: Someone posted to WIKTT that they wanted to see "drunken Snape." I'm afraid my version isn't dreadfully amusing or, perhaps, as interesting or dastardly as others, but the thought that he could still talk like that and be three sheets to the wind struck me as accurate, at least in the world of this fic. He's related to drunken Rhett Butler, by the way….
|
