Another Story

Chapter Six

In which Severus and Hermione talk

Severus was sitting on the couch with an open book in his lap and a pensive expression on his face when Hermione arrived that evening. He smiled ever-so-slightly and laid the tome aside as she exited the floo, brushing off her robes out of habit. She looked exhausted, he observed, wondering how many hours she had spent in the library in preparation for her upcoming tests. Hermione was going to finish school at the top of her class. Severus was certain of that. He was forced to admit that she worked harder than any of his Slytherin students and seemed to enjoy it too.

Severus made room for Hermione on the couch and put an arm around her, pulling her close to him.

His discussion with Dumbledore concerning his future had gone as expected. The headmaster wanted him to ignore further summons from the Dark Lord, and Snape had again made his case for trying to talk Voldemort out of killing him at the next meeting in order to learn the exact date and time of the next assault. Severus knew better than anyone how slim his chances were. But it was his chance to take. Dumbledore had understood that and had given him the only thing that he had to give in that situation: a copy of the book of incantations regarding the enchanted exit mirrors. It was utterly useless for dark purposes, but it was something. Would it satisfy Voldemort? Severus wasn’t certain, but he suspected that it wouldn’t be enough.

Hermione could tell by his silence, or more accurately the absence of snarky comments and so forth, and his firm grip on his shoulder that something was the matter. She had hoped to find him in a better mood. He had seemed subdued in potions’ that morning, but she had chalked it up to the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse. This was something more, she realized.

“What’s the matter?” Hermione asked him, taking his other hand and intertwining her fingers with his.

“Nothing,” he replied softly.

“I hardly believe that, Severus.”

“Everything then?” he suggested with a low chuckle.

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” she questioned, wishing that he wasn’t so private, so secretive, that he would just let down his defenses more often.

She rested her head against his chest and felt him sigh quietly.

“Hermione, do you really want to know? I think you would be happier ...”

“Ignorance is not bliss,” she interjected.

Severus looked down at her and nodded. There was a soft refrain from his youth that echoed through his mind with those words: knowledge is power. It had been said often enough. But whether for the purposes of good or ill, it quite frequently held true. He did not wish to keep Hermione powerless by withholding information from her nor did he want her to worry or suffer because of him. Which evil was the greater? He could not say for certain, but he did not think she would easily forgive him the first one.

“I may not return from my next meeting,” he informed her quietly.

She stiffened in his arms and didn’t say anything for a moment. Hermione had been afraid every time he had let her know that he would be going to one of those horrible gatherings, but he had always made some tacit statement indicating that he fully expected to return to her and even at what time. Her heart was racing as she groped for the appropriate words to say to him.

“Then you ... you shouldn’t go. You just shouldn’t go,” Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself.

He kissed the top of her head and said, “I must. You know my role. You know what my job is for our side in this war.”

“Of course I know,” she whispered, recognizing the logic of his argument and hating it at the same time. She gave a short laugh and removed her hand from his. “I was beginning to wonder if all my time in the library was a waste, but I suppose not,” she said enigmatically, reaching into her robes. “I have a present for you, Severus, and I suppose now is as good of a time as any to give it to you.”

“A present?” he questioned, furrowing his brow.

Hermione withdrew a gold pocket watch from within her robes and held it out to him.

“It belonged to my maternal grandfather. He knew that my mother wouldn’t have wanted it, so he passed it on to me instead with the intention, I believe, that it should find its way into other hands eventually,” she explained. Severus understood what she meant; that she should give it to her husband and from him to their son. “It was just a muggle watch ... then I had an idea,” she said, placing it in his hand.

“An idea?” he questioned, closing his fingers around it almost absently.

“I haven’t just been studying for my Newts, you know,” she said with a bit of a smile. “I realized ... after that first night ... that you put yourself in danger quite often. I wanted you to have an escape route. So I turned the watch into a port key. That was easy enough, I suppose, but I didn’t want it to be set for a particular time, and that required more research than I thought it would to find a way to do what I wanted.”

“One moment,” Severus interrupted. “It is a port key?” he asked.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“To where?”

“I’m getting to that part,” she said almost impatiently. “I had to get a note from Professor McGonagall to take a look at a few texts in the restricted section of the library. Then I had to get some help from the ancient runes' professor. But,” and she smiled with triumph as she spoke, “I think I managed to do what I set out to do.”

“And that would be?”

“I made a port key that will only react to your touch when you are either in pain or afraid. It might work with anger too, if it is considered a negative enough emotion. We could test always it,” said Hermione thoughtfully. “And it will take you from where ever you are to here, your chambers, or at least it should,” she added, remembering his original inquiry.

Severus looked down at the watch he had clutched in his hand and marveled at the sophistication of the enchantments that Hermione had placed on it. The level of skill required for such an endeavor was far beyond what an ordinary seventh year student could have accomplished. In fact he rather suspected that many of his colleagues would be hard pressed to replicate what Hermione had done.

“I wanted to give you something to keep you safe,” she told him.

“Hermione, I ... I am rendered speechless,” said Severus, clutching the watch to his heart as he looked into her eyes.

To make such a device was something from which Hermione would have derived great intellectual satisfaction, but that had not been her purpose in doing so. The reason she had spent hour upon hour in the library researching advanced spells was because she, when it came to Severus and his role, as he had put it himself, had felt helpless and very nearly powerless to do anything meaningful for him other than a few softly spoken healing charms. She wanted to protect him and keep him from harm, which had seemed impossible at first. Then one night she had taken the pocket watch from the bottom of her school trunk and had had an idea.

“Just tell me that you will keep it with you,” she said.

“I will, Hermione, I promise,” Severus told her, leaning down and kissing her gently to seal the oath.

As he began to pull away, Hermione slipped one hand behind his neck to keep him close enough for another, more passionate kiss. In a moment her fingers were entangled in his hair, and Severus had managed to tuck the pocket watch into his robes before pulling her into his arms. He closed his eyes and savored the blissful contact, and the hunger in her kiss. He would never have guessed that she was so passionate, but there was a lioness beneath her bookworm exterior, and he struggled to keep up with her.

“Severus,” she said as they both reluctantly pulled away, “do you think I could stay here tonight? Professor McGonagall doesn’t know that I’ve come down here ...”

“Hermione,” he said with an amused smile, touching her lips to silence her. “I would like nothing better than for you to stay here with me forever ...”

Her eyes widened in surprise as he said those words. Severus was never overly expressive. He could show his affection for her more easily than he could say it. And she thought she understood why.

“But I don’t believe for an instant that Minerva doesn’t know,” he finished, his lips quirking slightly into a more genuine smile, though a rather rueful one as well.

Severus looked away for a moment, wondering if he should regret part of those hastily said words. Who was he to talk of forever when each day was filled with potential peril and possibly death?

“When school ends ...”

“And the war is over ...” he nodded.

“Then we can stay together ...”

“Until the end of time, my love,” he said, gathering her into his arms again and burying his face in her curly hair. He fervently wished that those words could be true and not just wishful thinking.

Hermione felt a tightness in her throat as she clung to him too, willing herself not to cry, if not simply for the sake of not crying, then for Severus’ sake so that perhaps the future would not seem so bleak or unhappy. She wanted to be strong for him. She didn’t know when Voldemort would summon him again nor was she certain that he would be safe, despite her efforts to make sure of that. She only knew that they had to make the most of the moments that they had.

“Hermione, I want you to do something for me,” he said after a few moments.

“What?” she asked.

“Will you do what I ask of you, Hermione?” Severus questioned, stroking her back as much for his own comfort as for hers.

“Yes,” she said, trusting him completely. She believed that he was about to send her away for the night, but she also felt that it was something more.

“Your friends. Potter and Weasley. I want you to make up with them,” he told her.

Hermione frowned and pulled away from him just far enough to see the expression on his face. He seemed serious, but it was an odd request coming from him.

“Severus?”

“You need your friends, Hermione. All of them. Even the ones I don’t necessarily approve of. And, quite naturally, they need you as well,” he explained. A hint of mirth touched his lips as he added, “And besides, I would hate to be the one to break up the band.”

“Harry and I are doing all right. But Ron ... I told you what he said, didn’t I? About you and about Viktor?”

“In perfect detail,” he nodded. “But neither Krum, if I am any judge of character, nor I would want to see you divided over those words during this time of danger. Make up now, Hermione, and hex him with boils when the war is over.”

Hermione chuckled and said, “Because you’ve asked and because I’ve already said yes, I will try to make up with Ron, but I don’t think it will be easy.”

“That is all I can ask,” he said.

Hermione sighed quietly and said, “Then I suppose it’s time for us both to turn in.”

“Yes, I must not make it a habit to keep you out after hours,” Severus agreed.

“Do you expect him to call for you soon?”

“Yes, perhaps tomorrow night or the night after,” he said as she slowly rose from the couch and stretched, trying to hide the troubled look in her eyes without good results. “But don’t think about it,” he said.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Of course,” he said quietly as she stepped into the hearth.

“Good-night,” she said with a soft smile before disappearing.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered in return before taking the watch from his pocket and examining it again with no less awe than before.

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