Arden's Refuge

"You're right, Severus," Dumbledore said slowly. "I'm not going to stop you."

Severus sat down at the table again and glared at Albus. "You knew this would happen."

"Severus, I..."

"You knew I would like her. You knew I never would have realized it if I weren't forced to. You set this up." His tone was bitter, convicting.

"Well..." Albus turned his palms upward and frowned.

Severus shook his head. "And you acted like it was necessary for security!"

"It did have its uses, Severus. It ensured that extra level of security that we like to have in the Order and--"

"But at what cost, Albus? At what cost?"

"To be honest, I never expected you to carry out the charade the whole evening. I expected that you would find a covert way to inform Miss Granger of your actual identity and that perhaps the two of you would--"

"Another of your hair-brained schemes," Severus hissed. "I never thought I'd be the victim."

Albus sighed. This was what happened when he tried to solve two problems at once. It had been a mistake. "In the back of my mind, Severus, yes, maybe I was... playing matchmaker. That was wrong of me. And for deceiving you--"

"I'm about to owl her. The Muggle bookstore seems like a good idea--even if it was yours. I'll try to find some way of telling her tonight..."

Well, maybe it wasn't such a mistake after all...

"She isn't going to like it when she finds out," Severus went on. "But she has a right to know that she has... other options..."

Albus restrained his natural smirk.

Severus covered his face with his left hand. "What am I thinking... other options? What if I just confuse her? She won't want to be with me, but then, she won't want to be with Weasley, either, now that she sees what... I don't know, Albus. What if I ruin her life... as she has, quite possibly, ruined mine?"

"She hasn't ruined your life, Severus; she's just made you aware of what you haven't got. And if you confuse her, it is a good thing. She and Ron haven't been confused enough, in my opinion."

"You dislike the match."

"I've made that plain since they started going out in their sixth year."

"I remember." Of course, then it had been a matter of indifference to Severus. Now it was a matter of jealousy.

"You should owl her soon, I think."

"All right." Severus left the room to find some parchment and quills.

-----

Hermione was surprised to receive a letter from Zeena, one of the resident owls at Grimmauld Place. Usually Ron used Pig (who lately seemed to be on her last leg), and Harry still sent Hedwig. The handwriting on the outside of the envelope was also unfamiliar--thin, sharp-edged, and completely perfect, almost calligraphic. She opened the letter.

Dear Miss Granger,

I would appreciate your assistance in a matter relating to the Order. If you can, please meet me at Selden's Books at 5 pm tonight. Zeena will wait for your answer.

Yours,

Severus Snape

Short, to the point... and completely unexpected. It was odd how her path seemed to keep intersecting with artifacts of Severus Snape lately. Glancing again at the firm handwriting, she reflected that it did, indeed, look exactly like the handwriting of a man who would furnish his kitchen with Mackintosh chairs and stock his beach house with Yemeni coffee. She was almost excited by the prospect of meeting up with the old greasy git. But how did he know her favorite bookstore? She quickly wrote out her reply.

Dear Severus, she wrote, deciding that "Professor Snape" was hardly appropriate now that she was 26 years old and out of school, I'll see you at five. Is anything the matter? --Hermione. She put the note in the little gray owl's beak and got back to her work as Zeena flew away.

------

Severus was at Selden's by 4:30. The bookstore was small and intimate, and he saw as he scanned the shelves that it specialized in late 19th and 20th century literature. Its atmosphere was mysterious and elegant, with antique furniture and unpredictable little turns in the dark mahogany bookshelves. A small loft formed an upper floor of sorts that appeared to be a coffeeshop. He bought himself a handsome volume of World War I poetry and climbed the little wooden staircase up to the coffeeshop, where he picked up a tall mug of dark French roast coffee and claimed a seat with a view of the door.

He pretended not to notice when she arrived ten minutes later, turning his eyes immediately back to the page. He tried to focus on the poem, but he realized, as he heart pounded and he tried not to watch her striding in his direction, that he had no idea what he was reading. She was here, in the same building... and he had nowhere to hide, no masks to put on.

And there she was, climbing the stairs. She had already seen him. There was no escaping now; he had to face her as himself. He suddenly realized how it felt to be on the other end of the cauldron in his potions classes and quickly resolved to be kinder to his students... except maybe the Gryffindors. They deserved it--all of them. No, he thought... Not all of them... His usual mental clarity was failing him. He tried to focus on his book again.

Then she sat down, right in front of him, a mere arm's length away. It was rude to keep reading--or pretending to, anyway--but he did it, anyway. He was Severus Snape; rudeness was one of the defining characteristics of his personality. "World War I is my favorite war, you know," Hermione suddenly remarked.

"Funny, I would have thought you preferred the second," he said, looking up reluctantly.

"Well..." she wavered, "In some ways, I do. I particularly like reading biographies of Nazis... Do you find that odd?"

"Not at all, Miss Granger. In fact, I rather share your fascination with the dark side," he said, straight-faced.

Hermione burst into laughter then suddenly tried to quiet herself. "I'm sorry, Severus, that just struck me as particularly funny. I meant no disrespect... Just, thinking about your history and all..."

He smiled a very tiny smile. "Potions masters can't be serious all the time. We'd go insane."

She laughed again. He found his nervousness slightly dissolving, and simultaneously growing... inexplicably. "You remind me of Albert Speer," she said suddenly. "Do you know who that is?"

"Of course. Hitler's Minister of Armaments and War Production, supervisor of slave labor, former architect, author of Inside the Third Reich... that one?"

"Impressive," she said, "Most impressive."

"What is this, Darth Vader Day?"

"Now, seriously, I've always thought that you were like Albert Speer--brilliant, introverted, a little bit dark but fundamentally a decent person... with an artistic streak, a certain... sensibility... I don't know why I feel so comfortable telling you this... This is odd, I've thought about you all these years, but you haven't been around... I mean, I haven't seen you much," she paused. Suddenly the discomfort that had been noticeably absent from the first few minutes of their meeting permeated the conversation. "I'm sorry, sir..."

With that word--"sir"--Severus felt like something inside him died.

"No, no, Miss Granger. It's all right. I suppose the last twenty years have been my Spandau, my prison sentence at Hogwarts for my crimes..." He tried to smile.

"Is it really that bad? I always thought you really liked tormenting young people."

"No, it isn't. And... yes, I do. Within limits."

"I never thought you were half so terrible as everyone made you out to be. Sometimes you were really funny..."

"Well, thank you, Miss Granger, but you flatter me. In retrospect, I don't think it was particularly funny when I insulted your teeth fourth year. In fact, I never apologized for that. I'm sorry."

She waved her hand casually. "Oh, it was nothing."

"It was something. I was terribly out of line then, and I regret it now."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," she said, and impulsively patted his hand, which was still lying atop the book of poems. "I forgive you."

Severus thought she surely could hear his pounding heartbeat then--that is, if she couldn't see his chest rising and falling.

She smiled at him and began speaking again. "Well, as pleasant as this little chit-chat is, I guess that's not why we're here. What did you need to tell me?"

"Ron is--"

"Oh, I already know about that. Molly told me he was going to America--with you, isn't that right?"

"Not leaving the country," Snape stated. Underneath the table he cast a quick spell to ensure that no one but he and Hermione could hear the rest of the conversation. "He is in a coma. We're keeping him at 12 Grimmauld Place until he comes out."

Hermione looked startled, but not particularly stricken. "Is he all right? What happened?"

"He'll be fine in a few days... he got in a the way of a bad hex, that's all."

"When?"

Severus gulped. She was about to find out the truth. "Two days ago," he whispered.

It took a nanosecond for the information to click in Hermione's mind. "Two days ago... that means... last night..." She paused and stared at Snape. "It was you, wasn't it?"