A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 3: Love and Honor

Chapter 19: Gryffindor v. Slytherin

Ironically, Hermione found out what had happened that day by way of the rumor mill. Over tea that Friday, McGonagall told her what she had heard of the encounter in the Hospital Wing. ("Can you imagine the looks on their faces?" she tittered.) Hermione decided not to mention it to any of the involved parties, but assumed that Madame Hooch had been the one to step in, even before her intervention at dinner.

It was the end of the month before Hermione realized that Severus hadn't said anything more about the Malfoys, father and son, or her request that he finally rely on his Hogwarts cohorts to provide him with the support he so clearly needed. She bit her tongue, for the time being, knowing that anything involving Black and Lupin (much less her own involvement) would take him some time to sort out. At the same time, she couldn't imagine him refusing their help--not at this point--and wasn't sure what she would do if he did. But the worst thing on his mind seemed to be his classes, so she waited.

Luckily for Snape, they had other things to deal with as January wound to a close. With the term safely underway, Hermione had focused on keeping track of Remus's condition and continuing the trials they had discussed. Severus had been helping, of course, but it wasn't until the fourth week of classes that he joined them for one of their meetings.

"I have not forgotten you, Lupin. I have been considering various options. I want to discuss some things with Hermione, and hopefully we'll have an update for you by mid-February. If that is all right with you?"

He added the question off-handedly, but Hermione was pleased to see him making the effort, nonetheless. She was also oddly pleased at the thought that he was taking her participation in his efforts as a matter of fact--though she knew she hadn't heard the last of his complaining.

After Lupin had gone, Severus turned to her, his expression a blank. "Could we move to my office?" He motioned to the door, and she led the way.

Once she was seated, he said, "I have several things for you to read, before I can explain the decision we have to make," he noted, and she latched onto the word "we." A wry smile. "If you will forgive me for taking on the role of advisor, once again, of course. Though I won't require you to submit a report at the end of things, this time."

She smiled, more at his good humor than at his jest, and replied, "I am yours to instruct, Professor Snape."

He chuckled before steeling his expression again. "This is a serious matter, Hermione. If you have any doubts, we need to talk about them now."

"I'm sure," she said, with slightly more confidence than she felt. But at his questioning glance, she felt, and spoke, the truth of it: "I trust you."

A quick smile. "I have a list of things from the restricted section, but I also have some pages marked in books that I own. I…will have to ask that you read them in my chambers; I don't trust them outside those walls." She nodded. As he glanced over the list, he added, "If my own reactions over the past week are any indication, I predict we'll be retreating to your rooms more and more often at the end of the evening. The reading is bad enough, but one of the volumes in particular is…disturbing." He glanced up in time to see her shudder involuntarily. "I will of course be there whenever you need me to be."

She smiled weakly. "I know."

"Here, then, is the list. I assume you'll be headed to the library now?"

"You know me too well," she said, standing to leave as she glanced at the parchment.

He rose, and crossed to open the door for her. "Not half so well as I would like," he whispered, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze as she left.

A few days later, Hermione had covered all the listed material that was available from the restricted section (as well as a good bit that wasn't listed). As she finished marking her last homework parchment, she looked across the office to where Severus sat at his desk, grading essays.

"When you're done with those, do you think I could take a look at the passages you've marked for me in your own books?"

Not looking up, he answered, "Of course. I have only a few more essays remaining." But she could see the muscle twitch along his jaw. She set to recording homework scores.

After summoning the book with an almost silent incantation from wherever Dumbledore stored his more questionable volumes, Severus insisted on arranging it on the table for her, setting it down carefully and opening it to the first marked page.

Hermione was ready to protest, but then noticed the cover's edge as she took the chair he pulled out for her. The leather was…odd, and the realization that it was quite possibly human skin flickered across her mind before she forced her attention to the page he had selected.

Not that it was much better. The parchment was in fine condition for a book that must be quite old. But the edges looked as though they had been burnt (for effect, she told herself), there was a stain on the facing page that she didn't want to examine too closely, and the ink…she would only allow herself to note that it must be blood.

She took a deep breath, and let curiosity take over. Having read the selection over twice, she reached to turn to the next marker, then changed her mind and flipped to the Table of Contents. From behind her on the sofa, she heard Severus's sharp intake of breath, but he said nothing.

She skimmed the listings. The earlier items were surprisingly un-noteworthy. The usual spells and potions, some of them alternate versions of those she already knew. It was only in the second half of the book--the passages Severus had assigned were just after the mid-way point, she saw--that the entries became truly Dark. And towards the end, frightening. She didn't read the last page of entries.

Turning back to the second selection, she couldn't help but repress a shudder. From everything she'd read so far, she had her own working theory on what made Dark Magic dark. Partly, of course, it was the ingredients. Even some of the milder potions couldn't be brewed without ingredients that no self-respecting wizard would care to obtain, and which could not be purchased legally. But the primary distinction, she had decided, was intent. Some Dark potions simply could not be brewed unless the intent of the Maker was to harm another. It was that malicious intent that would make it difficult for them to utilize these ideas and combinations for a cure, even if they could acquire the ingredients. (And that was one errand that Hermione had decided she would willingly leave to Severus, though it didn't seem quite fair.)

Half-way through the second selection--a description of a charm that would turn one's opponent into animal form for the span of half an hour (she knew that the irrevocable version of the charm existed, towards the back of the book…that it was possible to turn somebody into an unthinking animal, permanently)--she couldn't read anymore. She reached to shut the book, and shuddered again. Leaving it open on the table, she turned to look at Severus.

He was reading, she saw, but he instantly looked up to meet her gaze.

"I'm…tired. I think I'm going to take a bath and go to bed," Hermione said, knowing full well that he knew she was covering her reaction.

"Should I…come up, in a while?" There was a tone in his question that she couldn't quite place.

"Of course," she said, smiling. She crossed to perch on the sofa beside him for a moment, and planted a quick peck on his cheek. "I'm fine," she said. And as she stepped through the fireplace, she couldn't help adding, "Though I know you worry."

He had found her still in the bath. Lost in her thoughts, she'd let the water go cold, and came into the bedroom shivering. Joining him in the bed, he immediately set his book on the bedside table, doused the lamp, and pulled her to him. Grateful for his warmth, and his silence, she let herself cling to him as she drifted to sleep.

"Noooooo!!"

The cry resounded in the darkness, and Hermione sat up straight, terrified. A second later, as he launched himself out of the bed, she realized that Severus had screamed.

"A nightmare," she muttered, following him into the front room.

"Severus…" she began, seeing him brace himself against the mantelpiece, forcing himself not to leave her for the isolation of his own rooms.

At the sound of her voice, he turned away. She waited.

"Gods! What could have possessed me to let you even see that book, much less read from it?" He began to pace. "And why, in the names of all the Gods, did you ask it of me?"

Hermione wasn't sure what to say, and before she could attempt an answer, he continued. "For the Gods' sakes, Hermione, why do you want to expose yourself to that filth?!" He spat out the word.

She met his gaze, and as he sunk onto the ottoman, she found her answer. "To help Remus." Before he could protest, she added, "And to help you."

He glared at her then. "I don't need your help. In fact, this would be a lot easier if you would just stay out of it."

"Apparently everything in your life would be easier if I'd just stay out of it." There was no real malice in her words, but he flinched as though she had struck him. Changing tactics, she crossed to him and knelt at his feet. Taking his chin in her hand so that he couldn't turn away, she said, "Tell me about your dream."

He sighed, and closed his eyes. She allowed it, dropping her hand to his knee.

"I was…at Malfoy's estate. It was one of the…meetings I…told you about before. He was…torturing…a young girl, a Muggle. Taunting her with the hope that she might survive the night if she…did what he wanted. Of course she would die. He began to…rape her as I…as I watched. And as he bent over her, I…saw her face."

Now his eyes sought hers, pleading. "It was you…and I couldn't move…I couldn't…"

She pulled him into her arms as he began to weep.

The next morning when they awoke, he had seemed shy, withdrawn. She clung to him, this time for his sake as well as hers, and made love to him gently until things were right again.

Settling in beside him, their arms sheltering each other, she kissed the tear away from his cheek.

"Severus, what is it?" When he did not answer, she pushed. "You let me help you because I asked; I decided for myself. And if you hadn't let me read your books, I would have gone to Knockturn Alley myself to look for them…"

He pulled her to his chest, clinging to her now. "How can you love me?"

"Severus…I…"

"How can you love me when you see what I have been…of what I am capable?"

Now she understood; the missing piece slid into place.

Turning her head, she whispered into his chest, "Because I do."

It was Saturday, and Hermione thought that the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match could not have come at a better time. Severus had insisted that they be on time for breakfast, and had chosen to sweep in through the students' entrance and up past the Slytherin table, stopping to bend his head to that of the Slytherin team captain before taking his place.

All signs of his difficult night were gone, and his opening remark to McGonagall was, not surprisingly, as unsubtle as his entrance.

"So, Minerva, I assume you're prepared for the disappointment that awaits you this afternoon?"

Hermione smiled at her eggs, and when she looked up for the salt, she saw that the rest of the table shared her amusement.

Hermione hurried to the front entrance to meet him. She had stopped to leave some papers in her office before the match. As she arrived in the hall, she saw him standing near the doors, eyebrow raised, arms crossed. She smiled at him, and he merely tapped a finger on his wrist in that Muggle gesture of pointing to a watch. In turn, she adjusted her Gryffindor scarf around her neck.

"You're late, Miss Granger. Certainly you don't want to miss the match today? Though I can see why you might not be looking forward to it with your usual interest. The prospect of losing is never a happy one."

"I'm not late; you're early."

"Hmm." He put his hand into a pocket of his cloak and deliberately pulled out the scarf she had bought him for Christmas. Having wrapped it around his neck, and ignoring her giggles, he pulled open the heavy door and gestured formally. "After you."

As they crossed to the pitch, he absently tucked her arm in his. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, and the cold wind had abated. February was promising to be mild, and after the gloomy storms of December and January, it was a welcome relief.

"Hermione!"

She turned to see who had called her name, and saw a familiar figure coming from the direction of town.

"Harry!"

She crossed to meet him, thinking that it would give Severus a chance to escape, or at least to avoid an extended greeting.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" she asked, when he finally let her free of his hug.

"Came up for the weekend. Needed a break, and Sirius wanted to see the match," he said. "And I wanted to see you, of course." He smiled broadly.

"Of course," she laughed.

"I'm off to meet Hagrid--Sirius is already there--we're sitting in the Gryffindor section…" Harry began, leaving the question unasked.

"He'll be thrilled--as will all those first-year girls," she teased. "So I'll see you after? Come have dinner with me."

Harry could see that she hadn't realized he wanted her to join them. It hadn't been an option. Glancing at Snape, who was standing a few yards behind her (was that a Slytherin scarf?), he smiled. "I'd love to, but Dumbledore's got first dibs. Come to dinner at our house tomorrow, why don't you. Remus already agreed."

"I'd love to," she said. But if you have some time tomorrow during the day, come up and find me. Maybe for lunch?"

"That sounds great," Harry said, and hugged her again.

She took his arm before he could move away, and they walked back up the hill to join Snape. "It's so good to see you," she said. "I miss you when you're not around."

"Me too," he said, meeting Snape's gaze. "Professor," he said, trying not to let his irritation sound in his voice.

"Mr. Potter, I see you've come to support your house in its certain disappointment today. Such loyalty is to be commended."

Before Harry could summon up an appropriate response, Snape had turned to match their stride. He heard Hermione stifle a giggle, and realized that he'd just been…teased…by Professor Snape.

As they approached the stands, Harry turned towards the Gryffindor students' section, and waved at Hermione. She waved back, and Harry realized that he didn't mind so much when he saw her Gryffindor-mittened hand tuck itself under Snape's arm.

Hermione removed her hand as they climbed the stairs to the main teachers' section. There was only room for one at a time, first of all, but it was also their habit, when in public--at least in close quarters--not to be even that demonstrative.

So she was surprised when, as they descended to take a seat just behind McGonagall and Remus, she felt Snape's hand under her elbow. She was grateful; she had never been fond of stairs, and the moving staircases of Hogwarts hadn't been any help. But she inwardly cringed as she saw Sprout and Pomfrey put their heads together.

Severus had chosen not to notice. Instead, he turned back to greet them, albeit tersely, and then remarked, his eyes on the field, "Well, Professor Sprout, a Slytherin victory today would put your house out of the running for the cup for…how many years is it in a row now?"

Poppy Pomfrey hooted with glee, and Flitwick and McGonagall exchanged amused looks as they tried not to laugh. From behind them all came Dumbledore's voice. "I believe it's an unlucky thirteen, now, Severus. As if you didn't already know." Hermione didn't need to turn around to see the twinkling in his eyes.

Slytherin won, 180 to 70.

"Sorry I'm late. We got an owl just before I headed up," Harry explained as Hermione opened the portrait. "Dumbledore wants to see us after lunch in his office--you too."

"What's going on?" Dumbledore must be taking advantage of Harry's visit, she thought, but for what reason?

"Don't know," he said. "Oh, yum--chicken pot pie!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd forgotten just how difficult it was to keep Harry's attention on a subject when there was food around.

After lunch, the pair of them arrived at Dumbledore's office. ("Butterscotch.") Sirius was there ahead of them, seated with Remus, who rose to offer Hermione his chair. Once she was seated, Sirius gave him a knowing look, which he chose to ignore.

"Is this all of us, Headmaster?" Remus asked. "I'll admit I don't have the slightest notion what this is about."

"If Harry's here, it can't be good news," Sirius noted. "Is he in danger?"

Harry looked perturbed by his godfather's comment, Hermione noticed. Before she could say anything, however, Dumbledore answered.

"No, there is one more of us. In fact, we cannot start the meeting without him, since he's the one who called it. I suspect, however, that… Ah, Severus. Do come in and tell us why you wanted to see us, will you? Your audience grows restless."

Harry glanced at Hermione, but she looked as surprised as he was. She, in turn, was staring at Snape, waiting for him to explain what was going on.

Snape thanked the Headmaster and crossed to stand behind him as he was seated at his desk. Turning to face the rest of them, he said simply, "I asked you all here because I need your help."

Sirius broke the sigh with a loud snort. "What is this, Snape? I don't have time for your…"

"Be quiet," snapped Remus. "Help with what, Snape?"

Snape took a deep breath. "I have…been considering this request for some time now. Recent events have left me…vulnerable, and it was suggested to me that I should ask you all for your aid."

Hermione flushed, but the men were too focused on Snape to notice. Except for Dumbledore, who twinkled at her over his spectacles as he reached for a lemon drop. Snape hadn't looked at her once since he'd entered the room.

"All of you know enough about my…endeavors to know that I do not ask for your help lightly. Quite probably, if you agree you will be in danger. Depending on the extent of your help, possibly grave danger. I…will continue to do most of the work myself, but I need your advice, as well as whatever information you may be able to discover through your respective channels."

He paused, looking at each of them in turn, and Hermione almost could not meet his gaze. She had been so sure that he would have finally asked for their help without her encouragement, but then again…he was asking them all to put themselves in danger, and at her urging.

"I cannot tell you any details until I have your agreement. If you choose not to support my efforts, you will be safer knowing less. All of you know the basic facts: I am tracking down certain remaining Death Eaters--the small group that offers the most direct threat to Hogwarts, or at least to Dumbledore."

"And yourself," Sirius muttered bitterly, having found his sarcastic tongue once more.

"Yes, Black, and myself. If the thought of saving my unworthy hide is too much for you to handle, you can, I would think, manage to find the door."

His tone was calm and cold, and Black was silent.

After a few moments, Harry spoke. "You're asking for information, primarily. Are you asking for information the Ministry would not give you otherwise? Is that why you asked me to this meeting?"

"I know more than the Ministry does, Potter. No, while the Headmaster and Black have their own sources of information, and while anything you would be able to contribute by way of information would be appreciated, I am asking something slightly different as well--of you, and of Black and Lupin." He glanced at Hermione. "And of Professor Granger."

"Information is one thing. And tracking is another--that I can do myself. At some point, however, I may have to face down these rogue Death Eaters. And I will not be able to do that by myself. Since I refuse to put Professor Dumbledore in the line of fire, I must ask those who would defend him to go with me in his place. Perhaps we can still avoid such a confrontation. But I have my doubts. In the meantime, there is still hope that we can save some lives."

The malice that had been so conspicuously absent from his tone crept back in for a single cut: "Though I'm sure that some of those lives aren't necessarily ones with which you would normally concern yourself, Mr. Potter."

"Severus…" Dumbledore's voice, a gentle admonition.

Harry ignored the exchange, and said simply, "Of course I'll help you. Any way that I can."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "You haven't heard my terms, Mr. Potter."

Black couldn't stand it. "You come begging for our help, and you want to give us the terms it'll take for you to accept it if it's offered? You're a piece of work, Snape, and a right bastard…"

"Sirius!" Lupin again. "Tell us your terms, Severus." Black's nose wrinkled at Lupin's familiar address.

Snape, who had been standing until now, took a seat in a chair to the side of the office. "First, I need to know everything that you may already know about the group in question. Second, I will not, in turn, share everything that I know with you--only what you need to know as we progress. Third, if any one of you acts without my knowledge, without my permission, or against my instructions, I will take action against you. Once you are neutralized, I will go to ground, take care of this myself, and resurface only when this thing is over."

Hermione flinched at the words; his tone, however, was smooth and low. He had taken her advice, but he would do this his way or no way at all. Somehow, she couldn't begrudge him his need for control. But the thought of him disappearing…

Harry spoke first. "I'll repeat my offer, Snape. And I accept your terms."

Remus started before Harry had done. "Of course I'll help, Severus. Anything you need. The Gods know you've done as much for me."

Hermione answered next, her voice weaker than she might hope. "If you don't already know my answer"--she saw the corner of his mouth turn up--"I'll give it. I'll do whatever you ask."

All eyes went to Sirius Black, but it was Dumbledore who asked the question: "Sirius? Your answer?"

"I need some time to think about it, Sir."

"As you wish," the Headmaster agreed. "Indeed, as thrilled as I am that you all wish to help, I think that we should all take some time to confirm our decisions. Perhaps after dinner, those of us who are willing to commit to this task should meet again? Be here at eight, please. We've plenty to discuss."

As they rose to leave, Dumbledore added, "Severus, Hermione, a word, please?"

Harry squeezed Hermione's arm. "I'll understand if you don't want to come, but will we still see you at dinner?"

"Of course," she smiled up at him.

After the others had gone, Severus collapsed into the chair that Harry had vacated.

"You did well, Severus," said the Headmaster. "And I hope you see now that you need not have worried about their response."

"Was that an 'I told you so,' Professor?" Even though his eyes were closed, Snape managed to raise an eyebrow.

"As close as I am willing to get," Dumbledore chuckled. "I'll leave that pleasure to Miss Granger."

"Not on your life," she said, causing Severus to smile. "Dinner at Sirius's and an 'I told you so' on the same day? Not even Slytherin winning the House Cup would make up for that."

"It would make up for a lot, however," Snape noted, reaching out to take her hand.

Professor Dumbledore beamed at them both, though Hermione was too relieved to notice.

A/N: Time to add a perpetual acknowledgement. As Irene will tell you, there's an underlying tone in this story that I owe to Laurie R. King--the similarity was there, she tells me (see my earlier note), even before I had read King, but now that I have read all of King's Mary Russell/Sherlock Holmes novels, I draw from her all the time, and perhaps more than I realize (though I am thrilled that Irene insists that I've caught her flavor in my own style). Though I don't have any conscious borrowings from her in the language for this chapter (I take that back: the phrase "absently tucked her arm in his" may be stolen from King--though it may also be from another fic, and if its yours, let me know!) the nightmare--though it would have come about anyway--is probably partly indebted to her. The verb "launched," used to describe Severus's departure from bed after the nightmare, is a conscious theft from Màrrach, though Kathy uses it to a slightly different effect there. ;) I have a feeling that R. J. Anderson includes the "not as well as I would like" exchange somewhere in her Darkness & Light Trilogy. And P.S.: Somebody on WIKTT wanted more of vulnerable!Snape. I hope this suffices. ;)

On to Chapter 20