The Quality of Mercy

I told you this update would be much faster. Thank you to everyone for your lovely reviews, and your well-wishes for my family. Only an epilogue after this -- I promise it doesn't take place on Platform 9-3/4, but someplace a little farther away. ;-)

Chapter 24: Healing

"M-Miles?" Hermione stammered.

"Hello, Hermione," said Miles, calm as if he were merely giving her his standard good-morning greeting. "Wands down, everyone."

She cast a quick glance at Severus; he nodded the tiniest fraction. Harry looked as if he'd just been hit by the wrong end of a Quidditch bat, but then he knelt and laid his wand down on the cold stone floor of the cell. With a sigh, Hermione did the same.

Miles smiled. "Excellent. So much better if we can avoid any more unpleasantness." His smile dimmed slightly.

"Unpleasantness!" she burst out. "When you just murdered Lucius Malfoy!"

Her supervisor's faded tea-brown eyes widened a bit. "I? Oh, no, Hermione, I'm afraid you must look to Professor Snape here to find your murderer."

He had to be lying. She glanced down at Severus, but he merely raised an eyebrow and then hitched himself up to a more or less sitting position. Then he spoke.

"I did put Lucius out of his misery, but I doubt anyone would call that murder. A mercy killing, if anything."

His tone was cold, dispassionate. He might have been referring to the death of a stranger, not a man he had once counted his friend. But he had said Lucius was coming to the end of his life, that the disease had run its course and there was nothing left to do. Judging by the way the sample of his blood had disintegrated, Hermione guessed that was the simple truth. No one could have lived for long with his cells in such a state of deterioration. Still, how terrible that Severus must be the one to end Lucius' life, even if death in such cases was a kindness.

"Strange mercy there, Professor," Miles said. Then he shrugged, and an incongruous twinkle glinted in his eyes. "But I shan't argue with you, seeing as you did me a great favor."

"A favor?" Hermione demanded, even as Harry made a disbelieving noise. "Why would you want Lucius Malfoy dead?"

"Why, indeed." Miles inspected the sleeve of his tweedy brown robes, flicked off a speck of lint, then said, "My congratulations, by the way, for solving the mystery. I thought for sure even a witch as clever as you would have a difficult time discovering the true reason for the Muggle attacks in the area."

She ignored the underhanded compliment. "So you thought you could cover it up by having me botch the investigation? For surely, if Hermione Granger-Weasley couldn't get to the bottom of the mystery, then that must mean there was no foul play involved!"

"Again, let me congratulate you on your insight. Yes, that was the plan. To be sure, I underestimated Narcissa's loyalty to Lucius, even when his mind was gone and he could no more be a husband to her than the mattress upon which he lay."

"Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry interjected. He still wore that expression of dogged disbelief, as if his brain resolutely refused to accept the fact that Miles Cornish -- mild, beige Miles -- could have anything to do with covering up an investigation...or anything to do with the icily beautiful Narcissa.

"Yes," said Miles. "Thirty-odd years is perhaps a long time to carry a schoolboy crush, but there you have it. And I really did nothing so terrible, Hermione, so you might as well stop with the outraged expressions."

Besides her, Harry muffled what sounded like a very small chuckle. Even the corner of Severus' mouth twitched.

Oh, of all the --

"It is terrible, Miles," she retorted. "You purposely meddled with an official Ministry investigation. You allowed innocent Muggles to be wounded and made no real effort to stop it. You did everything you could to make Lucius' illness run its course so you could be with Mrs. Malfoy. Did you ever stop to think she could be hurt? And was? Why, she could be dead if Sev -- Professor Snape and I hadn't come along when we did!"

"And I do thank you for that," Miles replied, apparently unruffled by her condemnation. "Truly, I did underestimate the violence Lucius was capable of. There are so few surviving records on Scarbury's, as no doubt you know."

"The level of violent mental activity correlates to the strength of the wizard," said Severus. He fixed Miles with a contemptuous stare. "Lucius was always quite strong. But I'm guessing you knew that already."

The expression of mild good humor abruptly faded from Miles' countenance. "He made it clear enough that my interest in Narcissa was unwelcome." He straightened then, and fixed them all with a glare that might have been frightening on someone else's face but on his features only succeeded in looking comically out of place. "But none of this addresses what we should do next."

"Well, let us go, of course," Harry said, his tone the very epitome of friendly reason. "After all, if Hermione and I both disappeared, there would be quite a hue and cry, wouldn't there? And despite her outraged sense of propriety, you really didn't do anything so awfully wrong, did you? I'm sure we can smooth it all over."

Oh, that was really too much. Hermione rounded on Harry, her lips parting to deliver all sorts of commentary on breach of trust and ethics in the workplace. As her eyes met his, however, he gave the tiniest shake of his head and glanced downward. He had his left hand resting casually in the pocket of his trousers, although she couldn't think why. It wasn't as if he carried another wand.

Or did he? She had no way of knowing, but despite all the words she wished to say, she managed to remain silent.

"Very reasonable of you, Harry," Miles said. "No reason why we can't all let this go? After all, no real harm done -- save to poor Lucius, but as the good Professor here has already accepted responsibility for that act, we can just leave that aside for now."

"You are one to prate of 'responsibility,'" Severus replied. He made no attempt to curb the sneer that pulled at his mouth. "You, who hid behind bureaucracy to cover up your misdeeds. Do continue to delude yourself -- I look forward to the day when Narcissa delivers the rebuff you so truly deserve. As if you ever had a chance with her!"

At this remark, delivered in Severus' best cutting tones, Miles scowled, and raised his wand. "I would take care if I were you, Professor. The wizarding world already believes you dead. Killing you now would only set the record straight once and for all."

At once Hermione took a step forward, and Miles added, "Truly, Hermione, I wish you no harm. But innocent bystanders do have a way of getting hurt."

Desperately, she said, "Miles, violence solves nothing. I -- "

But she had no chance to finish the sentence, for as Miles shifted his gaze toward her, Severus raised his hand, pointed at her supervisor, and snapped, "Sectumsempra!"

A bleeding gash opened along Miles' pale forehead, and he staggered. Harry took advantage of his momentary distraction to cry out, "Accio wand!" The holly stick leaped up into his outstretched fingers, even as Hermione called her own wand to her hand.

Their voices rang out in unexpected harmony. "Stupefy!"

And Miles, hit by both stunning spells at once, fell down in a heap on the hallway's dirty stone floor.

Her eyes met Harry's, and he flashed her a quick grin. Maybe they weren't the legendary trio anymore, but they could still manage a damn good spot of teamwork when necessary.

There was a cr-ack! and another, and two black-robed Aurors popped into existence in the corridor just a few feet away from Miles Cornish's prone form. One of them looked down at him and remarked, "Looks like we're a little too late."

"Just a bit," Harry agreed.

He drew his hand from his pocket. On his palm lay a round, brass-cased mirror almost identical to the two-way mirror Miles had given Hermione a few weeks earlier. This one looked slightly different, though; she saw a largish red button sticking out from one side.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Panic button," Harry explained. "We upgraded these about six months ago and gave the older models to Magical Law Enforcement."

The device explained the sudden appearance of the Aurors. Hermione nodded, then, recovering herself, moved over to where Severus sat, still propped up against the wall. Perhaps now she could finally discover the extent of his injuries.

Harry's gaze followed her. "Nice work, Professor," he said. "I didn't know that spell could be performed without a wand."

"I'm sure there are a good many things you don't know, Potter," Severus replied, although the comment was curiously lacking in its customary bite.

"What should we do with this one?" cut in one of the Aurors, the one with the long ponytail. Hermione thought his name might be Williamson, but she couldn't recall. He prodded Miles' unconscious form with the tip of silver-buckled black boot.

"Take him back to the Ministry," Harry said at once. "Definitely obstruction of justice, possibly tampering with an investigation, and most likely unlawful coercion of a house-elf." He flashed a quick grin at her as he said this last; it had taken a good deal of lobbying on her part to make intimidation and bullying of house-elves a punishable offense.

Hermione thought one could most likely add conspiracy to the list of offenses Harry had just enumerated. Then again, she didn't know for certain whether Miles and Narcissa had worked together, or whether he had acted on his own. The evidence they had against him was quite enough to remove him from his Ministry post, if perhaps not worthy of a sentence in Azkaban. That would be for the Wizengamot to decide, and for once she was glad to hand off a sticky problem to someone else.

After all, Miles had apparently acted out of love for Narcissa. Whether that love was misguided or misplaced, Hermione couldn't say. She only knew that she had probably exercised poor judgment of her own in coming to terms with her love for Severus. Oh, nothing as bad as allowing innocent bystanders to get hurt while Lucius' consciousness roamed about the countryside, but still, who was she to find Miles Cornish guilty of his crimes?

She reached out to touch Severus' face, to push back the heavy black hair and see the deep cut that ran from temple to jaw along the left side. Time to have that taken care of. Time to get away from here, from a place that smelled of damp and pain and disappointed hopes.

"We need to get to St. Mungo's," she said, as much to Harry as to Severus.

Williamson looked past Harry to Hermione. His gaze narrowed as it landed Severus Snape's hunched form. "Isn't that -- ?"

But she didn't wait to hear the rest of the question. She held Severus close to her, and Disapparated once more to the safety of the wizard hospital's waiting room.

***

Of course he protested. Of course he told Hermione in no uncertain terms that a stay in hospital was quite unnecessary. She would have expected no less of him.

"After all," she said, after drawing up a chair to his bedside and trying not to grin at the incongruous sight of Severus Snape in a white linen hospital gown, "you did get quite the knock on your head, in addition to that wound on your face. Besides, it's just overnight for observation."

He scowled at her. "A very minor bump, I assure you. It certainly does not require this -- this -- " And he plucked at the sleeve of the gown in obvious distaste

"Stop being a baby."

"Miss Granger, you overstep yourself."

She lifted an eyebrow in what she hoped was a fair imitation of his familiar expression. "Do I?"

For a few seconds he glared at her, and then a very dour smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You are rather enjoying this, aren't you?"

An answering smile lifted her own lips. "Perhaps."

How could she tell him that it made her happy just to see him part of the wizarding world again, even if it was only within the walls of St. Mungo's? His return from the dead had been greeted with everything from stares of outright astonishment to surreptitious sidelong glances taken when people thought he wasn't looking. Perhaps not the grand return she might have envisioned, but at least he couldn't hide away any longer and let the world pass him by.

He turned away from her for a moment and surveyed the rather bile-inducing seascape that hung on the wall. Of course, her opinion of its artistic merits might have something to do with the fact that the up-and-down movements of the painted waves conspired to bring on a feeling of faint seasickness.

"How is Draco?" he asked.

The abrupt change of subject erased her smile. She'd been hoping to deliver better news. "He's been stabilized. That is, he hasn't gotten any worse, but the healers can't seem to figure out how to bring him out of his coma." She paused, then asked, "Will he get any better?"

A lift of the thin shoulders beneath the hospital gown. "Difficult to say. I'll venture a guess that he won't get any worse, but whether he'll ever return to full capacity...." Another shrug.

"Well, once you're out of here we can begin to work on the cure again," Hermione said. She wasn't going to let it go. Not when they'd come so close. The healers had already said Severus could go home tomorrow morning.

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" She shook her head, not sure whether she had heard him correctly. "Of course we'll continue. We were getting so close!"

"So you say, but one successful experiment on one blood cell does not necessarily a cure make."

"I'm not saying it does, but certainly it's a step in the right direction."

What on earth had gotten into him? Negative he certainly could be, but she had never seen him being so defeatist.

He shifted on the bed so that he stared straight up at the ceiling, his profile harshly outlined against the pea-green walls. Finally he said, "I failed him."

"Failed whom?" she demanded. "Lucius? I thought you said there was nothing to be done for him."

"There wasn't."

She stood then and went to him, and took one of his cold hands in hers. "Then how could you fail him? My love, I don't want to use your own words against you, but I seem to remember you telling me once that Lucius did not deserve your pity." She recalled that he had told her much more than that: Do not think I owe Lucius anything, except perhaps a wish that his end might be as prolonged and painful as mine would have been....

There was no need to throw those words back in his face. No doubt he recalled them as clearly as she. She had probably already said too much.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "It is an easy to thing to say when you are not faced with the ruin of a man who once had been your friend. In the back of my mind I had thought somehow I could restrain him, get him quiescent enough to cast some sort of stasis spell that would hold him until you and I had perfected the cure." Abruptly he sat up and turned toward her, pushing the bedcovers aside. At the same time he let go of her hand. "But I realized soon enough that such thinking was useless. His mind was broken. The only way to save myself was to destroy the connection between his body and his spirit."

Hermione ached to reach out to him, but she held herself still. It seemed clear to her that Severus was wrestling with his own demons regarding Lucius' demise; better that she allow him to do so with no interference on her part.

"He was stronger than I could have imagined. It has been postulated that in the terminal stage of Scarbury's the mind gathers up all of its unused energy, its unused magic, and directs it outward in a desperate attempt at survival." His hands knotted around one another, fresh scrapes and scratches standing out against the pale flesh. "The Patronus held him back just long enough for me to pull the covers over his face and cut off his air. His body was weak, even if his spirit was not. The end came quickly."

He shut his eyes, lashes stark against his bloodless cheeks. Hermione, aching for the pain he must be feeling, said, "There was nothing else you could have done."

His eyes opened then, and fixed her with a harsh black stare. "I know. And that is the damnable truth behind it all. I could do nothing." And he turned away from her, then pulled the covers up over himself. She could tell from the rigid lines of his back that of course he wasn't asleep, but he had made it clear that the interview was at an end.

She left Severus' room, throat tight with worry. He had not forgiven himself. The wound was too raw, too fresh. Perhaps in time --

"Hermione!"

Harry's voice stopped her, made her turn around with some reluctance. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him -- really, Harry had behaved much better in their confrontation with Miles Cornish than she had any right to expect -- but she desperately craved some alone time. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, and all she really wanted was to sleep. What with getting Severus settled in his hospital room and discussing Draco's condition with the healers and all the other flotsam and jetsam that had occupied the last few hours, midnight had come and gone without her even really noticing.

A smile seemed like too much effort, but she thought she managed a reasonably pleasant expression as she faced him. "Still here? I would have thought you'd have gone home hours ago."

He lifted his shoulders. "I wanted to talk to you."

And that was the last thing she really wanted now, another lecture from Harry as to the insanity of her relationship with Severus Snape. She couldn't think of a way to fob off Harry without being rude, so she waited, telling herself she owed him a chance to speak his piece.

"I -- " He appeared to gather himself, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers before saying, "I wanted to say I was sorry."

If he had announced his intention to take up singing and appear on the next season of Pop Idol, she could not have been more surprised. "Sorry?" she repeated. It must be weariness that made her brain feel so sluggish, so incapable of processing his statement.

"I've been rather a beast, don't you think?" Now his expression turned rueful and a little embarrassed. "It's not my business what you do with your personal life. And you know -- " A blotchy flush touched his cheeks. "Professor Snape was kind of impressive, don't you think? To have taken care of Lucius and still manage to pull off a wandless spell like that even after he was injured?"

"Very impressive," she agreed. To her, even that was an understatement. Would any other wizard have been able to manage what he'd done? She still abhorred the Sectumsempra spell, although in this case she certainly couldn't argue with its results.

"So anyway -- I guess what I'm trying to say is you should do what makes you happy." He managed a laugh, although it sounded tinged with unease. "I won't say I really understand, but you're a smart girl. You know what you're doing."

Hermione thought of several replies, decided none of them were sufficient, and instead reached out and pulled Harry into a fierce hug. Until this moment she hadn't realized how much underlying worry she still possessed as to how he would handle her ongoing relationship with Severus. Knowing that Harry had given even a half-hearted blessing to their union had done more than she imagined to set her heart at ease.

He submitted to the embrace but pulled away after a minute. "Expect you're a bit done up," he said, his tone gruff. "So what's next?"

"Well, Severus has to stay overnight. He got a nasty knock on the head in addition to that slash down the side of his face. After that?" She paused, and wondered what exactly to say.

Yes, one enemy had been vanquished. There was still the larger issue of their research into Scarbury's to consider, not to mention the fact that she had no clear idea of exactly where her relationship with Severus was even headed. Yes, he had made a confession to her some time back that all he wanted was a place of his own, one with her in it, but what precisely did that mean? Did he expect her to take up residence in his lonely cottage in Yorkshire, or would he be willing to abandon his isolation and come live with her in Rosedell?

She said, somewhat startled at the admission, "I don't know."

***

The little machine whirred away, pulling dark blood up through a tube to a small glass tank. Once the tank was full, Hermione closed her eyes briefly, recalling again the careful symmetry of a healthy blood cell, the bright lines of the genetic markers for wizard ability delicate and lovely as a snowflake.

"Reparo," she murmured, moving her wand in a slow circle over the tank.

It had taken more than a week of skull-blinding work to get to the point where she could consistently visualize how those healthy cells should work. Severus had assisted, but he'd been forced to admit that she had a knack for it, while he somehow did not.

"Of course, that is to be expected from the brightest witch of her generation," he had said, his tone only half-mocking.

"And I would have expected more from the greatest wizard in Britain," she shot back, whereupon he'd taken her into his arms and kissed her quite thoroughly, quelling any further retorts.

He had not spoken of Lucius' demise since that dark night in St. Mungo's, and Hermione had decided to let the matter go. Perhaps it wasn't healthy to bury such things, but she knew that badgering him over it would do no good. One day he might finally find it in himself to speak to her of what he had seen as a failure. In the meantime, there was a great deal of work to be done.

Harry sent word that Miles Cornish had been fired from the Ministry but received only a suspended sentence, since it couldn't be proven that he had done anything worse than cover up key evidence in an official investigation. From his exile on the Isle of Wight he'd apparently sent pleading letters to Narcissa Malfoy, letters she had disposed of without opening.

Draco languished in hospital, with the faithful Pansy refusing to leave his side save for a quick bath and a bite to eat from time to time. To Hermione's great relief, Severus said nothing more about abandoning their research and instead flung himself into it with a fervor that matched hers. She wondered if perhaps he hoped to redeem himself by curing the son of the man he had been forced to kill.

Now she held her breath, watching as the cleansed blood flowed from the tank back into Draco's veins. Was it her imagination, or did the thin chest beneath the covers begin to rise and fall a little more noticeably? Too early to say for sure; she and Severus had determined that she could manage only two pints of blood at a time, and this was only the first batch.

Two healers hovered near her elbow, taking notes on her technique, while Severus was a watchful shadow at the foot of the bed. Narcissa and Pansy sat directly across from her, with Pansy holding Draco's right hand in both of hers. Hermione would have preferred to do this without an audience, but it was necessary that the healers learn how to perform the procedure on their own, and of course she couldn't have asked the Malfoy women to wait outside, not when they had waited and dreamed and prayed for this day.

Hermione hoped she wouldn't disappoint them.

"Ready for the next batch," she said, and the healer on her left lifted her wand ever so slightly, coaxing the blood up through the tube.

This time the warming flush that spread over Draco's face was immediately discernible. Pansy lifted her head and met Hermione's gaze, her dark eyes wide with terrible hope.

And again. And again.

The last drops of blood slid their way down the thin plastic tube -- procured with her parents' help, since of course no such Muggle technology had been available within St. Mungo's walls. The room was very quiet; Hermione fancied she could hear her own blood pulsing within the fragile confines of her veins.

Then Draco opened his eyes. He blinked, staring up at Hermione in some confusion, a puzzlement that only deepened as he caught sight of his former Head of House standing at the foot of his bed.

"Aren't you dead?" he asked. He sounded weak, but lucid enough.

Severus crossed his arms. "No more than you, Master Malfoy."

Pansy, who had remained rigidly calm this entire time, burst into tears and buried her face on Draco's chest, sobbing wildly. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around her as best he could, given the tubes protruding from his left forearm.

While Hermione understood Pansy's reaction, she couldn't help but feel that she was intruding on a very personal scene. Murmuring a polite apology to the healers, who stepped out of her way but maintained their post next to the bed, Hermione left the room, followed by Severus.

"Success," he said.

"It would seem so," she replied.

"You sound less than happy about it."

"Oh, I am. I'm happy for Draco and Pansy. They have a shot at a normal life now." As she said the words, though, Hermione couldn't help thinking, And what of me? What of my life?

For Severus had resolutely avoided any discussion of their future during the past week. Of course, the intensive work had left little time for personal discussions, and they had both been so weary that when they finally fell into bed they had no energy for anything except sleep.

Once he had been released from St. Mungo's, he returned to Yorkshire. Hermione had gone there as well; it only made sense, since his cottage was better equipped for their research then her own home at Rosedell. Although word of his survival had spread quickly from the wizard hospital to the Ministry and beyond, he had refused to speak with anyone except Hermione.

All in all, it had become clear to her that he had no intention of rejoining society. Could she live in the sort of isolation he seemed to crave?

Not that it mattered, since he had said nothing to her about what might happened once they completed their research.

He was silent for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out and took her hand. "Hermione."

She forced herself to meet his eyes. Whatever he had to say, she would face it squarely.

"We are done here, are we not?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. This was it, then. Never mind what he had said about wanting her in his life. He had had a taste of the wizarding world, and wanted nothing to do with it. She tried to tell herself she understood. All those years of isolation had only strengthened his solitary nature. It had been foolish, really, to think he could change himself so completely.

"Then let us go, you and I. Let us go where we can start over."

She found she still couldn't speak, but this time it was because of the rush of joy that welled up from somewhere deep within. Was it possible? Did he really just say he was ready to begin the rest of his life with her at his side?

His fingers tightened around hers. "Is it possible that the inimitable Hermione Granger is at a loss for words?"

"Yes," she said, then, "No. That is, no, I'm not at a loss for words, and yes, let's go away. Wherever you like. Now."

Then he leaned down and kissed her, kissed her thoroughly with no apparent care for the healers who passed by in the hallway, or the visitors there to see injured relatives and friends. Severus Snape kissed her, Hermione Granger, and her heart rejoiced at his boldness.

Whatever came next, they would be together. Always.

374

The Quality of Mercy /