14th January, 2000. 12:44 p.m.
Placing the scrap of parchment down on the dressing table of the guest room Ginny had put her to sleep in, Lavender looked down at it one last time, scanning over the words. She reached over and picked up a bottle of skin-softening cream that Ginny had given her for her birthday last year. Determinedly, she placed it on top of the parchment, making sure it stayed in place. Then, giving a terse, self-reassuring nod, she slid her left hand into the pocket of her robes and fingered the wand that was always there.
An image flashed through her mind of the dream she had had last night, and she felt anew the wave of certainty and foreboding that had convinced her that it was not a mere dream, but a vision. <i>Yes. Yes,</i> she repeated inwardly, her internal voice strengthening as her left hand clenched around her wand.
Making her way silently and cautiously down the hallway toward the stairs, she heard Ginny’s gentle humming in Xander’s room and crept onwards, feeling a curious pulse of loathing toward the woman who, only a few days ago, she had been excited to think of as her sister-in-law. Ginny didn’t care for her family, no matter how much cooing and humming she did. Ginny didn’t care about justice or the truth.
Moving down the stairs, Lavender hurried into the kitchen and pulled the front door open roughly, darting out and pulling it closed quickly behind her.
Taking a deep breath, sucking the fresh air outside of <i>that place</i> where they didn’t care about Ron or her, she formed her mental image, swished her wand, and was gone.
***
14th January, 2000. 12:31 p.m.
The sound of cheerful voices and bursts of laughter floated up the stairs to him as he hurried down them.
“… So she said—” Draco’s voice cut off as he looked up to see Severus entering the kitchen. Hermione’s laughter petered out a second later as she swivelled her head to follow her friend’s eye line. After a moment of bemusement, she smiled at Severus and said lightly, “Draco was just telling me about Veronique. She—”
“How very interesting…” Severus said a little wryly, interrupting her. She was pretty when she smiled, but he had no interest in hearing the little gossipy tidbits that Draco always had in his store, just like his father had before him. The thought of Lucius soured Severus’ mood a little, and he felt a sneer threaten to grow on his lips as he thought, <i>I hadn’t imagined </i>Hermione Granger<i> to be one for that type of thing.</i> Then he shrugged off the thought. How ridiculous. Draco wasn’t Lucius, and Hermione was certainly doing nothing more untoward than listening to the casual stories of a friend.
Draco pulled a mock-sour face. “It’s very funny,” he said confidently, giving Severus a mock-hurt look and then throwing a smile at Hermione.
“I’m sure it is,” the older man said in reply, looking down at his two ex-students, cheerfully laughing as if they were carefree second years enjoying lunch at their House table. Except, of course, these two had never been friends at Hogwarts. Severus mentally shook himself of that second incongruous, troubling thought in as many minutes. What was wrong with him? This potion <i>wasn’t</i> going to rewrite history – for better <i>or</i> worse. But the two friends in front of him seemed to beg to differ about that first one as they exchanged wry glances about their boss’ lack of sense of humour. The expressions were so similar to those that his pupils at Hogwarts might have worn that it brought that thought back to him and made a small spark of anger flare inside him.
Feeling a little snappish now at both his inability to get a grip on his thoughts and at their insensitivity, Severus said shortly, “I have to go out. I just got an owl saying that a book I ordered has come in at Flourish & Blotts.”
“Can’t wait for lunch?” Hermione asked, looking up at him and seeming a little put out. “I was going to cook for a change!” she added with a faux-pouty look at the blond to her right.
“Hey! I thought it was sexist to have a woman in the kitchen…”
“It’s sexist to keep a woman out, too,” she rejoindered, and Draco smirked at her and then looked up at Snape, mirroring Hermione’s questioning look that was asking him to stay.
“I’ll get something while I’m out,” Severus replied, doing his best to keep the snap out of his tone as the two of them stared up at him as if he were the biggest kill-joy in the world. <i>Like Hogwarts second years again,</i> an internal voice snapped, causing Severus’ eyes to narrow ever so slightly.
“Okay,” Draco replied slowly, sensing that there was something a little off, but shrugging and looking back down to meet Hermione’s eyes.
Apparently, his look confirmed Hermione’s own feelings, as she suddenly rose from her seat and said, “You know, I could perhaps do with some more tomatoes…”
“We have—” Draco broke off his sentence as he raised his head and saw the look passing between his two friends in front of him.
Severus picked up the sentence for him, however. “I’m sure you’ll have enough for just the two of you,” he said smoothly, giving Hermione a challenging look that surprised her. “I’ll see you both this afternoon,” he added, giving Draco a nod as he turned to the door.
Although he had his back to them, he knew that the two young people exchanged looks before Hermione said, “I’ll see you out.” The gesture could have been sweet, but… for some reason it only made him even more annoyed.
“There’s no need,” he said gruffly yet quietly as he left the kitchen, but he could hear her trailing after him. When he reached the front door, he turned to watch her concerned face as she took the last few steps to his side.
“Is everything okay, Severus?” she asked, and she raised his head to look at him with a warm, concerned expression. He returned her gaze inscrutably.
“Why would it not be?” he asked, a challenge deep in his voice.
“Well... it’s just that you seem a little… off. Is it the potion? A side-effect?” He snorted at the thought of the potion. Fat lot of good it was doing him. He should just give up on taking it, let <i>her</i> enjoy herself.
When he did not respond, she asked in a meeker voice, casting her eyes down, “Is it me?” When she looked up at him again through her lashes, he felt a little swell of affection take over him, and perhaps she saw it flicker in his eyes because she took a step toward him and nestled her head into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I haven’t done anything, have I?”
A little timorously, Severus closed his arms around the girl. His thoughts seemed to swing wildly like a pendulum from wanting to comfort her and wanting to reply with a scathing retort that would bring tears to her eyes. He felt curiously out of control as two sentences warred on his lips: “No, of course not, I’m so glad to see you smiling again,” and, “I’m glad <i>you’re</i> having fun while someone else is cleaning up your fuck-ups!”
As he continued to be silent, Hermione leaned back from him and looked up into his face. “Severus… are you okay? You seem angry… I’m sorry that the potion is working faster for me than for you. You told me it might… You said that you had more to… more time to counteract. But it does work. I feel so much… lighter.” She smiled up at him shyly again, as if her new happiness might actually offend him, and Severus had the strange urge to cry. Merlin, what was this potion doing to him?
“I… I’m glad. I really am. Perhaps you are right. I just need to give it more time…” he said quietly, conceding that perhaps whatever was troubling <i>wasn’t</i> Hermione and Draco’s fault.
Hermione smiled more broadly now, a wide, slightly forced smile, like the one Severus imagined an Auror might give a dangerous criminal who had been talked into giving himself up but wasn’t <i>yet</i> in custody. “Maybe we can talk later? I’ll make some extra for lunch, okay? For whenever you get back,” she added quickly, cautious not to sound like she was <i>forcing</i> him to come back quickly.
Severus gave a terse nod and released her. <i>Talk</i>? Suddenly, a wave of panic swept through him as he realised that there was only really one thing they had left to talk about. He wasn’t sure he was ready to <i>talk</i> about that. Right now, if his angry and uncontrollable thoughts about Lucius and Hogwarts were any indication, he wasn’t even in a position to be thinking about that.
Taking a step back, Hermione almost seemed to guess what he was thinking, as she impulsively reached up and placed a gentle kiss on Severus’ cheek before turning, embarrassed, and hurrying back into the kitchen. Watching after her, Severus raised a hand halfway to his cheek and thought, <i>Okay. Talk. Maybe I </i>can<i> do that…</i>
***
14th January, 2000. 1:07 p.m.
“Harry! Harry! <i>Harry!</i>” his wife’s shrill, piercing yells tore through the house and reached him in the former bedroom that now served him as an office, but which he rarely used unless he and Ginny had had a fight and the kitchen wasn’t available to him. Like now. Still, when he heard that piercing scream, which seemed to be bordering on panic, he instinctively leapt up from his chair and sprang toward the door, one thought in his mind: <i>Xander!</i>
“Ginny, Ginny!” he called out as he dashed down the corridor.
“In here!” was her response, and it came not from Xander’s room, which he was hurrying towards, but from behind him, from the guest room Lavender and Ron normally used when they came to stay. That was one of the advantages of The Burrow—lots of bedrooms. Almost skidding to a halt, Harry turned back and entered the room with a different feeling now in his heart. No longer the sharp panic for his son, but the deep, leaden feeling of foreboding that captured him whenever he thought about Ron.
“What’s the matter?” he asked nervously as he stepped into the room and fixed his gaze upon the back of his wife’s head. The room was empty except for her.
“Harry…” Ginny began, spinning to face her husband, a scrap of parchment in her hand fluttering in the breeze her turning created.
“What <i>is</i> it?” he insisted, stepping toward her to take the parchment from her, anxious to know what was the matter before his heart burst from worry. Ginny capitulated, and instead of trying to explain, she handed the parchment to him.
<i>I know the truth. You’re trying to keep from it, but I know the truth, and I know what justice is. If you won’t believe me, I’ll get it myself.</i>
“What?” Harry began to stutter, but his mouth was too dry to let out any real word. He swallowed slowly and then tried again. “What does that <i>mean</i>? Where <i>is</i> she?”
“I don’t know, Harry. She’s gone… somewhere,” Ginny replied helplessly.
“Well, <i>obviously</i>!” he yelled back, suddenly irrationally angry with his wife’s unhelpfulness. <i>She’s always standing in the way of us </i>dealing<i> with things</i>. “Where, Ginny? Where has she gone? When did she leave?”
“Don’t shout at me!” Ginny snapped back, anxious tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know, okay. I’m not her keeper!” Ginny added defensively.
“Shit! She’s gone to find Hermione, hasn’t she? Because you let her think that stupid <i>dream</i> was real!” Harry let the piece of parchment fall to the floor and spun to exit the room.
“Harry Potter, don’t you <i>dare</i> go anywhere without me!” Ginny yelled after him.
“Stay here with Xander,” he growled over his shoulder as he dashed down the stairs, almost stumbling on the final few. Something <i>awful</i> was about to happen, and he could only hope that Snape was there to make sure it didn’t because he didn’t think he would make it in time.
***
14th January, 2000. 12:57 p.m.
“Why are you squishing them by hand?” Draco enquired over Hermione’s shoulder, watching her pulping some tomatoes a little over-enthusiastically, getting little sploshes of red juice on her blouse.
“‘Squishing’? It’s <i>fun</i>!” Hermione replied back with a smile. “Want to help? I’m going to strain them once this is done.”
“No thanks. This is an expensive shirt,” he retorted. “You could just do it by magic, you know.”
“<i>Fun</i>,” Hermione repeated. “Now, if you’re too squeamish for tomatoes but still want to be helpful, go get some bacon and chop it up into little squares. By magic or by hand, whichever <i>you</i> think is more fun!”
“I’ll go for the magic, thanks,” Draco replied as he crossed the kitchen to follow her instructions. “I do enough chopping and <i>squishing</i> with potions ingredients, thank you very much!”
There was a brief pause broken only by the sounds of squishes and a knife beginning to click smartly against the wooden chopping board, and then Hermione said, “You know, Draco, speaking of potions… I think I should say thank you—”
At that moment, there was a loud knock at the front door, interrupting her.
Draco, his casual tone sounding a bit forced and awkward, replied, “If you want to express your thanks, you can get that!”
Although he didn’t turn to her, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she was giving him a warm, grateful smile. He didn’t <i>want</i> her to feel grateful or indebted because of the effort he’d put into the Deep Pression potion. The potion’s success would be thanks enough for him.
“It’ll just be Severus having forgotten something…” she said as she wiped her hands on a tea-towel and hurried out of the kitchen.
“Like his key?” Draco muttered to himself, and suddenly the question of who was knocking on their door had him a little worried because Severus <i>never</i> forgot his key, and it was very unlikely that the book he had gone to collect would be so large as to prevent him opening the door himself. This was Snape, after all, not <i>Hagrid</i>. Leaving the charmed knife to continue its work, Draco hurried after Hermione just in time to hear a slightly maniacal, high-pitched giggle of, “Can I come in?” echoing from the doorstep.
“Uh…” Hermione began, turning to look toward the doorway to the kitchen, where she was glad to find her housemate hurrying towards her, prepared to take charge of what had suddenly become a <i>very</i> unpleasant situation.
“Thanks!” snapped the blonde woman on their doorstep, who suddenly stepped into the house and shoved Hermione hard, almost making her fall to the floor except she gripped the door just in time to right herself.
“Oh!” Hermione let out in protest and surprise as she clutched the door and glared at Lavender.
“What are you doing here, Lavender?” Draco growled angrily, catching Hermione’s unhappy glare and lifting his wand to indicate that he had the situation under control. The last thing he needed was the two women getting into a duel in the hallway.
“Don’t point that thing at me, Malfoy!” Lavender shouted suddenly, waving a hand at his wand dismissively. “I don’t give a shit about you. It’s her I’ve come for,” she snarled then, jerking her head at Hermione.
“Lavender,” Hermione began, making eye contact with Draco and closing the front door on his nod. The look he had given her indicated that the same kid gloves they had for Snape would be needed here. “Lavender, I really am sorry about Ron…” Hermione said in a placating tone. “We’ve told you all we know…”
“<i>No</i>!” Lavender shrieked back, turning on the other woman. “No. You haven’t, have you? You forget that I was one of Professor Trelawney’s top students, Hermione, not <i>you</i>, the brightest witch who couldn’t even avoid getting herself captured by Death Eaters!” she taunted, now reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wand, which she brandished a little wildly.
“Lavender!” Draco interrupted, letting his wand arm fall and reaching out with the other to grab the woman’s shoulder roughly.
In response, she shrugged her shoulder and spun a little wildly to him with a grimace, her wand following to point straight at him. “Don’t <i>touch</i> me, you Death Eater bastard! Don’t expect me to believe that you three, your twisted little threesome, were all falsely accused. No, you were falsely <i>acquitted</i>.” She turned the top half of her body now to face Hermione while her wand wavered somewhere between the two of them. “You’re a killer, you bitch! You killed him, didn’t you? I know you did! I <i>saw</i> it!”
Hermione visibly blanched now at this accusation. <i>How could she know? How could she have seen it?</i> ran in a continuous loop through her mind as she groped for words to respond with.
“You’re talking shit,” Draco protested, trying to call the furious harpy’s attention back to him now. He could see the dazed, startled look on Hermione’s face, and there was no knowing what either of the two women would say or do next. He had to get control of this situation somehow. Had to call Lavender’s attention to him and try to reason with her.
“Am I?” Lavender retorted with a twisted grimace of a grin on her face. “I’m not, am I, Hermione? I <i>dreamt</i> it. I’ve always had revealing dreams. I saw you on top of him. I saw what you did to him, Hermione!”
“Lavender—” Hermione began to protest, but the rest of her words died in her throat. What was she <i>supposed</i> to say? How could she answer these accusations? She wished now that Severus hadn’t gone out. Where was he? He was going to come back, but it was much, much too early to expect him.
Draco, watching the exchange, had started to lift his wand again when suddenly Lavender, who had been waving her wand around erratically, levelled it sternly and steadily at Hermione.
Almost simultaneously, Hermione raised hers, which Draco hadn’t even seen her remove from her pocket. As the two women glared at each other for a second longer, Draco almost felt like <i>he</i> were the one with the talent in Divination, as unthinkingly he launched himself in their direction, somehow sure that it was necessary. As he moved between them, he felt one spell whiz past his left arm a second before the words reached him.
“<i>Sectumsempra!</i>”
“<i>Expelliarmus!</i>”
Draco found himself dazed as he stood facing Lavender. Two words. What were they? Two spells… What were they? He recognised them, but… He looked down at himself and found that the floor was somehow rising past his feet, rushing toward him.
As Draco crumpled before her eyes and Lavender came back into view, Hermione barely had time to think about what was happening before the reflexes she had honed in war took over and the words, “<i>Petrificus Totalus</i>,” sprang from her lips. She stayed standing only long enough to see the shock and fury in Lavender’s eyes and the woman’s body crashing to the floor besides Draco’s before Hermione threw herself onto her knees and leaned over her friend.
He looked up at her with grey eyes and said, croakingly, “I remember this now… Hermione…” with a strangely gurgling chuckle.
“Shh!” she insisted. “You’re going to be fine, just stay <i>very</i> still. I’m going to get help, okay. Now. It’s okay. Stay there!” she added uselessly. As if he were going to go anywhere!
Lifting her wand, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on <i>something</i>, anything happy. Having latched onto a moment from her early childhood, she squeezed her eyes closed even harder and said, “<i>Expecto… Expecto Patronum!</i>” she finished in a stronger voice, and the wisp that had begun with her first ‘Expecto’ strengthened into a firm otter form. “Please. St Mungo’s. Aurors. Help. Now,” she gasped, and the otter, far from raising an eyebrow and telling her to make her mind up—Hermione couldn’t quite believe that she expected that Snapian gesture from her own Patronus at this moment—turned tail and galloped off to bring help, slipping through the front door airly, as if it were nothing.
“Oh, my God. Okay, Draco,” Hermione said, squatting down to him again and gripping his hand fiercely. “I’m going to come back in a second, okay? I’m going to go and get some dittany… and something to stop the blood…” All of a sudden, Hermione realised just how much blood there was, and she didn’t know what to do. Rising to her feet again, her eyes alighted on Lavender’s body for a second—<i>Merlin, shouldn’t I do something about her? What should I do?</i>—before she hurried off up the stairs to their potions store. Pulling open the door of the small, walk-in cupboard, she stepped inside and riffled through the bottles. “This? No, no, that’s not it…” she muttered to herself. “God, come on, Hermione! Come on. This is <i>Draco</i>.”
“Hermione!” came an abrupt, animal roar up the stairs in a deep, bass tone that suddenly filled her with relief and made tears spring up in her eyes.
“Severus! Severus!” she yelled. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m okay…” There were a few pounding thuds on the staircase, and then he came into view, blocking much of the light that was pouring into the dark cupboard.
“<i>Lumos!</i>” he said loudly, and the light that was suspended from the ceiling of the cupboard sprang to life. “Are you okay? Hermione, what happened? You’re covered in…” he continued, looking down at her blouse. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”
Hermione looked down at herself and gave a little hysterical laugh. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s tomato. It’s tomato,” she repeated deliriously, suddenly remembering that only a few minutes ago she had been having ‘fun’ with Draco, squishing tomatoes. Severus impulsively pulled her into a rough, relieved hug that lasted only a matter of seconds before he pushed her away again in a business-like manner.
“Give me that,” he said, snatching the tub of Coagulation Balm from her hands. It was a habit he had formed over more than twenty years, stocking his own stores with medicinal potions. Sometimes there were ‘rush orders’ for such things, but often times they were there merely to comfort him that he was prepared for all eventualities. Now, he was glad that he had formed such a life-saving habit. “Here’s the dittany,” he added, grabbing another vial from the shelf, a vial that she apparently hadn’t spotted in her anxiety. “I’m going to tend to Draco. Get help, Hermione! Get Healers now!” he insisted, his eyes boring into her own for the longest time he could possibly spare—perhaps half a second.
“I already did,” she said to his suddenly retreating form. Taking a deep breath, she repeated, “I already did. I sent my Patronus…”
Severus, pausing in his movement toward the staircase, gave her a small smile and a reassuring nod. “Good. It’s going to be okay. Come on, I’m going to need another pair of hands!” he added, turning from her again and almost running down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Before following after him, Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. <i>It’s going to be okay.</i> That’s what he had said. The words echoed in her mind, calling up all the other moments when he had said that to her. He had never once lied to her.
“<i>Nox</i>,” she had the foresight to mutter as she abandoned the cupboard and descended the stairs again. The front door was still open—Severus had obviously left it like that when he had opened it to find the carnage in their front hall—and a most surprising figure was now bounding up the stairs to the doorstep.
“Harry!” Hermione called out in surprise as she finished descending the stairs just as he took the last step up to the threshold of the front door with a tense look on his face.
Snape’s head now snapped up, and he almost growled at the man before him, “What have you <i>done</i>?”
“I didn’t do anything, I promise. I didn’t say a word. She had some fucking <i>dream</i>—” Harry replied, his words sincere as he stepped across the threshold without a second thought, almost as if he belonged there. “Is he… is he…?” he began to question.
“<i>Yes</i>,” Severus snarled back emphatically, certainly not willing to countenance any other answer to that question. Then, lowering his head again to continue applying the balm that was going to stem the blood-flow and save his employee’s life, he said in a calmer voice, “So is your <i>friend</i> by the look of it,” while gesturing across Draco to the inert female form still crumpled on the floor.
Harry seemingly ignored this, however. Instead, he began, “Have you—” but his unformed question was suddenly answered by an array of pops from behind him. Hermione looked over his shoulder at the five people that had suddenly appeared—three people dressed in the familiar shades of St Mungo’s Healers, and two athletic, cautious-looking people who must be the Aurors. As the three Healers pushed past Harry and crowded around Severus and Draco, a babble of three unfamiliar voices and one familiar one rising from the crowd, the two Aurors followed them up the stairs more slowly and paused at Harry’s side.
“Mr. Potter,” one of them began respectfully while the other gave Hermione a dirty look, “can you tell us what’s happened?”