A Time for Understanding

Chapter 17: A Promise

Oft times gliding, other times sneaking, the usually inaudible footsteps of Severus Snape now tread heavily upon the blanketed pathway leading towards the cabin. Though the rapid crunch of his boots startled some of the woodland creatures from the underbrush, his pace neither slowed nor faltered. Pressing into the rain softened ground, his heels created shallow, crescent-shaped wounds into the grainy mud. The hem of his cloak trailed behind him, brushing across the earth, comforting the hurt in a sweeping caress.

A loud cracking sound--one he was sure had not come from him--caught his attention. Squinting into the wooded darkness, he tried to make out the source of the noise. He waited a while, warm, white puffs of air obscuring his view. Feeling he could tarry no longer, he again began walking, his steps gaining speed as he moved among the trees.

Far too much time had been spent at Hogwarts unnecessarily. There had been no meeting with Albus, though he'd deliberately misled the girl into thinking such a thing. There was little that could be done to protect her now, but he would do what he was able. He'd not have her trailing him as he scouted the grounds--not when there was a heavily warded haven that could protect her. Severus knew she would resent this slight deception on his part, but her disapproval would not prevent him from taking actions he felt were both crucial and required. And she would never know.

Upon leaving her, it had taken many minutes before he'd finally broken from the forest and entered into the open area belonging to Hogwarts. He'd let out a heavy breath, the sense of anxious anticipation he had been nursing since the onset of his journey dissipating as soon as the castle had come into view. Stone and archways, it appeared the same as always--tall, sturdy and strong. He'd almost been tempted to stride through the great doors, to see with his own eyes the changes that, thus far, had been invisibly made. It was difficult trying to picture his long ago comrades replacing the hordes of children usually cluttering the halls. He had never thought he would prefer the students, he'd noted sharply.

The cold bite of the air and the bitter taste of bile forming in the back of his throat had caused his eyes to burn. He'd expected to see some sign of darkness from the castle, some movement on the grass, the flutter of a misplaced leaf. But there was nothing. It was as if everything had come to a halt. Just...waiting. As he marched forward, the one living, breathing, moving thing in sight, he'd felt an intense sense of loneliness that overwhelmed his daily understanding of the word.

Circling the perimeter of the school, he'd stayed as far from the walls as possible. It was useless, he had known, to try to remain undetected. Years ago, he'd ensured that the Dark Lord would be able to sense his presence. The mark on his arm continued to burn under a heavy layer of black. Yet his time as a spy had heightened his need for caution. It was in the long shadows of the branches stretching from the forest that he'd walked, his feet knowing not to carry him further into the sunlight, past the boundary of darkness.

He'd always thought they'd have the advantage, working from inside the safety of Hogwarts' constructs. There'd been far too little time to prepare for a circumstance such as this. Before they'd evacuated the school, Albus had assured him of their success, though rarely had they prepared for anything beyond defense. Severus had doubted the confident words at their inception, and his doubts had only grown during the night. He knew better than Albus what they were to face. And that he would have to rely even more upon the skills of aurors and volunteer wizards did even less to comfort him.

Finishing the circle around the castle, his eyes had drifted upwards, towards the window belonging to the Headmaster's office. The glass was clean and clear, the place of the sun in the sky ensuring little glare on the sheer surface. Suddenly, there was movement behind the pane. Drawing his cloak further around him, Severus had hurried on his way.

He'd taken one last look at the landscape before returning to the forest. There was still movement at the window, a face half obscured by glass and gloom. They'd seen him. And they were preparing, just as he was.

And now, mere minutes from the cabin, he couldn't help but feel as if he'd been followed.

"That was a good shot, Neville," Hermione called. "But you still have to be faster than that." Panting, she bent down, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed red, the insistent stitch in her side alluding to many an hour spent among her books. She'd have to be a bit faster herself. Hopefully, her naturally speedy reflexes would compensate for prior lack of physical exertion.

The pain in her side not diminishing, she sank to the ground in order to catch her breath. Appreciating the rest, Hermione began to watch the boys in earnest. Her lips quirked upwards as she fixed her gaze upon Neville, observing as he fired a hex at Harry. He was showing true skill, and for that she was grateful. When she'd heard that Neville would be joining them, she'd worried--images of how he had been as a young boy flooding into memory. But seeing him in action now, she knew he was prepared as any of them. He'd come a long way. They all had, really.

Cramp finally subsiding, Hermione removed her hand from her side, turning her attention to Ron as he sidestepped a particularly nasty curse. Over the course of the past two years she'd seen his stubborn streak diminish significantly. While certainly not docile, he'd become much more willing take direction when it was needed. Their friendship was more of a partnership now than it ever was. She couldn't express how thankful she'd been when she saw him consciously tempering his tendency to act brashly, think later. She supposed it had been a natural reaction after what had happened to Sirius.

Sirius Black's death had been a terrible blow--but especially to Harry. It had taken almost a year for him to recover, to divest himself of the bitterness that had come to coat every look and word. His talks with Professor Lupin had helped a great deal. Hermione was convinced that it was the understood and mutual mourning between the two that had revived her friend. Though still present, Harry's anger had become less an irrational, all-consuming force, developing into something far more righteous in nature. Hermione knew that what anger was left was called for. She comforted herself with the knowledge that at least the lens he looked through was an improved shade of red.

Still studying the boys, a prickling sensation on her skin did not go unnoticed. Having the acute feeling of being watched, Hermione scanned their surroundings, and in doing so noticed another pair of eyes moving over the expanse of the clearing, darkly surveying the rapidly shooting spells and hexes biting through the air. Her smile came unbidden, relief flooding her body. The eyes turned to her as she jumped up from her place on the ground. Nodding, Severus gestured towards the cabin, expecting her to follow as he sunk out of sight.

Nearly tripping in her haste, Hermione ignored the call of her friends as she sped towards the cabin. Slowing as she reached the door, she heard the hollow sound of her shoes as they hit the wooden floor. The room was shaded as ever, and the small smile that lingered on her face receded when she did not clearly make out his form. Seeing that he had hidden himself in the darkest corner of the room, she moved in further still. "I'm glad you're back," she said softly. "Severus?" she asked, cocking her head as she waited for a response.

Startling her, Severus suddenly surged forward, his hand coming up to cup the air close to her face. "What is this?" he accused, his eyes angrily taking stock of her forehead.

Hermione frowned, brushing a tendril of hair from her face. "What's what?" she asked, probing the area in question. She cringed as her fingertips came upon a small laceration across her brow bone. "Oh. It's nothing, just a small cut from our practice. I'm fine," she assured him.

"You are not fine," Severus answered angrily. He scowled as he withdrew his wand. With a whispered incantation and a flick of his hand, Hermione felt the broken skin knit together. Her fingers again sought out the wound, but this time were unable to detect even the slightest traces of a scar.

"Thank you," she smiled. Her brows rose as she watched him retreat several steps away.

Severus stared at the place she'd been hurt, the crease between his brows deepening. He began softly, "Ms. Granger...effort should be made...one final time..." Noticing her hands beginning to clench, he continued in a stronger voice, "Effort should be made in an attempt to convince you, one last time, to reconsider your decision." He held a hand up to staunch the words threatening to flow from her mouth. "There is much to be done behind the scenes. I realized I've rarely complimented you...but your mind is a fine weapon...the finest you possess. You should use that to defeat the Dark Lord. Not your wand. No matter how the battle may unfold, it's your intellect that will be needed in the aftermath. A mind like yours...it has no place in battle."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "It's Hermione," she corrected heatedly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should try to protect the prize brains of the wizarding world. But I would so hate to miss out on the battle. Perhaps you can get Dumbledore to direct the action towards the Quidditch pitch? We'll have our choice of seats. Because you will be joining me, of course, if intellect is to be the deciding factor in who's permitted to participate in this war." Hands on her hips, Hermione stared at Severus defiantly. "Or not permitted, as the case may be," she added seditiously.

Severus surveyed her angry display without interruption. Uncrossing his arms in order to pinch the bridge of his nose, he scowled unhappily. "You are a foolish girl," he remarked, breaking the silence as he met her eyes once again. He sighed, and then nodded his head to himself. "All right then. You've made your decision. I'll no longer attempt to dissuade you. But I do have something else to say in regards to this war." He paused, and for the first time in a long while, tried to formulate his words in the most diplomatic manner possible. "War is not a time for bad habits, Hermione. And you've always had certain...bad habits...in regard to three particular boys." He lowered his voice gravely. "These habits are not something I wish to see translate to the battle field."

"I think fighting a war is a bit different than helping with homework."

Severus arched a brow. "You might be surprised. War brings out the very essence of who we are. You have always looked after those three, and it will be against your nature not to do so today. But if you are to fight, you must promise me to look after yourself, and only yourself. Dumbledore will protect Harry until it is time for him to face the Dark Lord. Up until that time, he will be safer than any of us. I do not want to see you put yourself at risk unnecessarily. Promise me you will leave Potter to himself."

She didn't answer right away, causing Severus to repeat more forcefully, "Promise me."

Hermione inhaled sharply at the fierce sound of his voice. "I promise that I will take care of myself, and I promise that I will stay out of Dumbledore's way as best I can. But I've spent seven years with those three, Severus...and we are strongest when together. In the end...I'm going to be with them. I have to be with them." The words were spoken in a determine voice, but looking up at him, her eyes were apologetic.

Severus drew his lips together grimly. "I suppose I will have to accept that then," he answered tersely. Irritated, he stared at her for a moment before letting the fabric of his cloak brush past her as he headed for the door.

"Severus," Hermione called after him.

He stopped, but didn't turn to look at her.

"About last night...I know this isn't the time to be spouting any confessions of...well, I don't know what. I'm not ready for that, and I don't think you are either. But," she continued quietly, "as for last night...I would like to acknowledge that it happened."

Slowly, Severus turned to face her. Looking into her eyes, so brown and hopeful, he felt his resentment melting away. "It's acknowledged," he said softly. Against his better judgment, he reached for her, allowing a finger to trace the newly healed skin across her brow.

"Good," she uttered breathlessly, feeling him secure a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Herm--" Severus began unsurely, suddenly cut off by the Neville's cry for her from outside.

Hermione shook her head resignedly. "I'd better go see to that." She looked at him regretfully before walking towards the door, her shoes once again making that hollow noise upon the floor. Pausing to look back, she asked, "Will we be leaving soon?"

A single nod of the head was her answer. Hand on the doorknob, Hermione hesitated, mouth open as if she'd something more to say. But her name was called again, and with a parting sad smile she left for the company of her friends.

Severus stared at the empty door frame for a long moment, the light from it hurting his eyes. Clearing his throat, he walked to the opening.

"Weasley," he barked.

Resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, Ron jumped at the booming quality of his name as it came over the clearing. He shot a questioning look at Hermione as she passed him. Catching his eyes, she shrugged and moved on to help Neville.

"Better hurry up, mate," Harry said.

"I know, I know," Ron muttered reluctantly. He spent a moment longer examining the yellow-green stain on both of his pant legs. Kneeling in grass and black mud, he'd rather be here than in a wooden cave with its very own black bat. Shaking his head, Ron stood, brushing the dirt from his clothing. He saw Harry give him a sympathetic look as he walked towards what he was sure would be an unpleasant encounter.

Ron warily made his way to the cabin steps and found Snape waiting for him there. The man looked worse than usual. Sleeping outdoors had done nothing for his appearance. At least at Hogwarts he had been clean, his clothes neatly pressed and devoid of dirt. His professor's rumpled and more-worn-than-usual exterior was disconcerting to say the least. It made him seem almost...human.

Noticing Ron's study of him, Snape shot him a withering look. Without preamble, he began to speak. "I'm loath to ask a favor of you, Mr. Weasley, but necessity compels it. During the battle, Potter will need to keep his wits about him, and Longbottom is far too incompetent. I will try as best I can, but the Dark Lord will likely be keeping all too close of a watch on my person for me to be of much use--"

"You want me to look after Hermione," Ron interjected.

The look of annoyance on Severus' face at being interrupted quickly changed to one of surprise. Perhaps the boy was not as dense as he had originally thought. "So you will do it?" he asked, his words clipped.

"She's my friend. I'd be watching out for her anyway. Not that she really needs it though. She can be quite scary when she's angry."

"I doubt the Death Eaters will find her terribly frightening, Weasley," Severus said condescendingly.

Ron shrugged. "Then that'll be their mistake."

"Let us hope so." A faraway look came into Severus' eyes, and the room went quiet.

At the sudden silence, Ron examined Snape more closely. "All this concern...You really care for her, don't you?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Does it matter?" he challenged.

"Yes, it matters. It matters because I love Hermione. I want her to be happy." Ron paused, furrowing his brow, and then began to speak at an unprecedented speed. "I don't think I'll ever be ok with this. But if you really had her best interest at heart...I might accept it. One day."

"I care very little for what you do or do not accept," Snape answered acidly.

There was another long silence, and then Ron spoke again. "Do you...love...her?" he asked in a bewildered tone.

Severus stared at him, equally discomfited by the question. "Time to go, Mr. Weasley," he said quietly. Charging ahead of the red haired young man, he walked towards the clearing and then just as quickly spun around. "Do me the favor of not forgetting your promise." Severus gave him a threatening glare before he sharply turned, making his way towards the youthful voices behind the curtain of trees.

Ron stared as the older man stalked off, hair and cloak billowing ominously in the breeze. Following in his wake, Ron, not for the first time, was grateful that the git was on their side. Even if he did like Hermione.